GO PATRIOTS…GO

AS PROMISED….

Worried (always) about whether Sunday brunch will ever be a killer-crazy-busy shift at moonstones, I drove down there with worry and concern…only days after requesting that the Chefs add some “new”, fresh ideas, something else fun– Like Caramelized Pork Belly disguised as Thick Bacon (In Chelmsford, one sells much better than the other, though they are the same exact thing!)  Or a doughnut topped with gooey bacon-caramel.  Or French Beignets, dusted in powdered sugar.  Or a stoopid-omelet, overflowing with caramelized onions, patatas bravas, chorizo and laced with siracha!

I drove down, wondering if by chance any of the changes would already be in place–during the bye-week with the Patriots taking the day off–looking forward to an omelet and an hour of observation and contemplation… “How can we fill all the seats?”  This, I already pondered while driving down Mammoth Road en route.

Upon arrival, as I walked through the front door, a couple of ladies had looks of slight disappointment–looking as though they might leave–as the handsome young host offerred quickly– “But I have a couple of tables leaving soon, so it shouldn’t be too long.”

My mind screamed.  “What are you talking about young host–we have 125 seats–how could you not know where there is an available table!!??” 

However, being more (outwardly) mature these days–an older, wiser Scott Plath–I stifled the inclination to step in and correct the host, to grab the ladies by the hand and pull them towards the dining room and away from the exit.  Instead, I powered a smile, an affirming (or was that doubting) nod of the head, and walked past the group towards the seating areas.  I would find the right spot for the two ladies, and come back and assist that young man, and save those customers from the cold.  “To the rescue” I figured…

And then…What the…?

Sure enough, every single table was occupied, with only bar stools available.  I was amazed.  The place was abuzz, staff walking with purpose and hot coffee here and there, and–only moments later–the busser quickly cleared and re set the just-and-only-vacant table, to which the host seated successfully with those same two ladies, who chose to believe his promise of “soon.”

I then approached the (very busy) Chef/expo; “Tiffani…what the hell…we are packed!?”  Tiff offerred her typical big smile, while calling orders and simultaneously garnishing eggs benedict with wisps of micro-greens, and said matter of factly– “You look surprised.  The Patriots have the day off.”

Smiling, satisfied for the moment, I hopped a bar stool, enjoyed the  amazing special omelet; chorizo and caramelized onion, and wondered if I will, ever in fact, see that damned doughnut on the menu–now that the Patriots are home, and the masses are free to brunch in number!