#fine dining italian menu

[spagnoletti]

In the world of culinary experiences, fine dine restaurants stand out as the epitome of gastronomic indulgence. These establishments offer not just meals but an entire culinary journey, meticulously curated to tantalise the senses and leave a lasting impression. At the heart of this exquisite experience lies the fine dine restaurant menu, a culinary masterpiece designed to elevate taste, presentation, and dining ambiance. In this article, we delve into the intricacies of a fine dine restaurant, exploring its essence, the art of crafting it, the delightful culinary offerings, and more. Read more!

[mkt-market]

Tasting menu restaurants

Embark on a gastronomic journey with MKT Market's exquisite tasting menu. Discover a symphony of flavors meticulously curated for discerning palates. Elevate your culinary experience—reserve your table now at one of the premier tasting menu restaurants, and savor each moment as MKT Market transforms dining into an extraordinary adventure.

[holylulusworld]

Dinner for one (1)

Summary: You eat alone. You like it that way. Someone disturbs your dinner.

Pairing: AU!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, grumpy Bucky, pushy Bucky, a hint of fluff, mentions of dead relatives, cheating ex-boyfriend

Dinner for … masterlist

“A table for one?” The hostess looks you up and down. It’s not the first time you have dined at the fancy restaurant. Every once in a while you treat yourself and go out to have dinner at your favorite Italian restaurant.

“For two,” you splutter and curse yourself for it. “I mean…uh…I brought a friend.” You drop your gaze and take a deep breath. “I meant that I brought my stuffy. Is it okay that he’ll sit with me?”

The hostess eyes you up and down. You can see the wheels in her head spinning. “That’s a little odd, don’t you think?”

You expected her to act like that. “Did you know that in Japan there is a restaurant trying to make dining alone less awkward? They seat patrons with giant stuffed animals if they are alone. I had the opportunity to see it myself.”

She blanches at your response. “Japan? You’ve been to Japan?”

“Yeah, I had the chance to live there for a while. My boyf—” You bite your tongue and shake your head. “I accompanied someone. He wanted to start anew in a foreign land.”

“Cool,” she looks around the restaurant, searching for a table for two. “I can give you the one in the corner. It’s not the best table, and usually taken by a regular. But he won’t come this week. He canceled his usual reservation.”

“That would be very kind of you,” you wring your hands as she guides you toward the table. “I’ll be right back with my…uh…”

“It’s fine,” she says. “I’ll reserve the table for you. You can order in a minute.” You nod and walk back outside to get your fluffy friend.

While you are busy unlocking your car, the hostess talks to the waiter. “Please don’t ask questions and try not to stare. The guest will bring her plushie to keep her company.”

“A plushie?” The waiter furrows his brows. “Oh, like in Japan! I saw something about it on the internet the other day.

“Well, she’s a regular and lonely. For almost a year she has come here every few months to dine alone. She always looks sad. Let’s help her have a great evening.”

“I’d like to have the chicken parmesan, and for dessert, I’ll take the tiramisu.” You close the menu and give the waiter a shy smile.

“Do you want wine for your chicken parmesan?” The waiter asks. He doesn’t look at the huge bear you placed on the free chair at your table, only at you. “Miss?”

“Can I have apple spritzer?” You shyly glance up at the waiter.

“Of course, miss,” he nods and gives you a soft smile. “I’ll get you an apple spritzer. Your food will be ready soon.”

“Hmm…that smells great,” you inhale the scent of your food deeply. “What do you say, big bear? Do you think this is a nice restaurant?” You look at your bear, giggling as it stares back at you with its plastic eyes.

You take the first bite, moaning at the taste. Chicken parmesan always had a special place in your heart. Or rather your stomach. “So good, big bear. I wish you could have a taste too.”

“What do you mean my table is taken?” A grumpy man wildly gestures toward you and your bear. “There is my table, and it’s occupied by some woman with a teddy bear? Are you out of your mind?”

“Sir, Mr. Barnes. We are sorry. Your secretary called and canceled the reservation,” the hostage tries not to lose her composure at the man’s rude behavior. “We can offer you a table for one right over there.” She points toward a spare table.

“Do I look like some lonely loser eating alone?” He cocks his head to glance your way again. “I want my table, and I want it now. Let her sit at the table for one.”

“She has company, Sir,” the hostess tries to stop the man from storming toward your table. He stops right in front of your table, glaring at your bear.

“That’s a teddy bear,” he sneers and dares to poke your bear with his index finger. “Is this some crazy kink?” He looks at you, expectantly. “Lady?”

“I-I,” you stammer. This man angrily stares at you, and you are too scared to answer him. “I…try to eat, Sir.”

“Cat got your tongue?” He cocks his head to look at your food. “I need you to sit at the table for one. I’m waiting for someone…” He sighs as you keep on shoving food in your mouth to avoid talking to him.

“Sir, she’s having dinner. We can have the other table ready for you in a minute.” The hostess tries to get the man to leave you alone. “Please. She only wants to eat in silence.”

“With a bear,” he points out. “Fine, if she won’t sit at the other table, I’ll sit with her.”

“What?” You sniffle as the man tries to take the bear off the chair. “Hey! Don’t touch big bear! Please just leave me alone!” Your lips wobble and tears well up to your eyes. “It’s my birthday and you are ruining it!”

He puts the bear back down and wrinkles his forehead. “Why are you dining alone on your birthday, only a bear by your side.”

You shrug. “I got no one who wants to celebrate with me. My parents are dead, and my boyfriend found someone better and prettier in Japan. I had to start anew and didn’t find friends in this town so far.”

“You’re all alone on your birthday?” His features soften and his shoulders relax. “Hmm…” He looks at the bear on his chair again. “How about we eat together? I’m hungry, and you are alone.”

“I got my bear,” you insist. This man is too pushy and grumpy for your liking. You don’t want to eat with him, nor share your table. “Why don’t you sit at the table for one?”

“I-“ he licks his lips. “I don’t want to eat alone. My date stood me up and…uh…eating alone is…it sucks.”

You look at the man. He holds out his hand, telling you his name as you shyly glance at his offered hand. “I’m James…or Bucky. Uh-you can call me Bucky.”

“Y/N,” you murmur and shake his offered hand. “And that’s big bear. He…”

“He helped you through hard times,” Bucky offers. “Can I sit at your table? Is that alright with you?”

“Uh-sure,” you hold out your hand for your bear. “I can put it in my car and come back.”

Bucky shakes his head. He calls for the hostess and asks for a table for three or more. He grabs the bear and holds out his hand for you. “We can eat at the table over there and your bear can sit with us.”

“What…you,” you sniff. “You want the bear to sit with us?”

“Why not?” He shrugs. “He’s your friend and helped you through hard times. I get it. I have a good friend too. Steve.” Bucky smiles now. “My friend helped me through hard times too.”

You watch him take off his glove to reveal a metal hand. “Oh.” You say and carefully touch it. “I didn’t know.”

“Please have dinner with me,” he asks again. “I know I’m a little loud and grumpy, but I didn’t want to ruin your birthday too.”

You look at your bear tugged under Bucky’s arm. “Okay…” You breathe. "If you want to waste your time on me."

"Doll," he softly says, "spending the evening with you is not a waste of time."

Bucky and you will talk for hours, and enjoy your food.

He tells you about his friend Steve, and you talk about Japan, your ex-boyfriend, and how you got big bear.

When you finally part ways, you promise each other to meet at the restaurant again to spend every Friday evening dining together...

Part two: Dinner for two

Tags in reblog.

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter one

summary: leaving your old life behind, you move to copenhagen to follow your dream of opening a restaurant. almost a year after opening, luca's quest for inspiration brings him right to your doorstep.

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 2500

a/n: remember when i said we'd get pastry chef luca fanfic whether we liked it or not? well, it seems i can't be normal about anything bc i have an outline of (potentially) 10 chapters right now based on this headcanon. while i try to keep reader characters pretty neutral so that you can picture yourself, i have this reader creating food from her own life experiences/cultures so do what you will with that. also, i tagged some peeps from my headcanon post, but please let me know if you'd like to be removed.

masterlist | part two

He’s in search of inspiration when he finds the restaurant – your restaurant. 

It’s an American stagiaire and a single conversation that makes him realize that he’s missing something – that he’s been in need of something fresh, a new perspective– setting him on his quest. 

The best things are inspired. 

Luca stares at a blank piece of paper for what feels like hours, writing a few things down, sketching up an idea, before viciously crossing them out, hopelessly stuck on new ideas for the new menu. After a few half-baked ideas that go nowhere, It occurs to him that he may be in need of a little inspiration himself. He can’t think of the last time he’s taken his own advice, mulling over the carefully-chosen words of wisdom imparted to Marcus a couple of weeks ago, and he’s determined to change that. 

A review in the paper, an old colleague’s recent trip there, and a glowing recommendation from a close friend are what bring him to the restaurant. 

He’s not sure what to expect – having forgone any interest in cuisine described with the words trendy or fusion a long time ago – but Luca reminds himself that it’s the writer’s word choice, not the chef’s, when writing the article. 

When Luca steps into the small home-turned-restaurant, he’s immediately inundated with a warmth, a homeyness, that takes him by surprise. From the open kitchen, to the golden lighting, it feels vastly different from the classic Danish-style, fine dining establishments that have swept the country. 

But Luca reminds himself that the announcement of noma’s 2024 closure, has shifted the conversation around dining culture in Denmark, and already, he can feel that this is the breath of fresh air that he’s been looking for. 

Luca’s seated quickly with care and hospitality by a highly-attentive host, which he only assumes is a symptom of the fact that he read somewhere that you’re an American. While Danish, the host is boisterous, as if he’s known Luca since childhood. Luca smiles politely in response, graciously thanking the man and his chocolate brown curls. 

The menu is small, indicating that each dish receives enough care to be excellent and he likes that, despite being described as trendy and fusion-focused, your menu is creative. It’s different. It’s inspired. 

He chooses the special of the day: the mapo tofu bolognese – a traditionally Italian concept done from an Asian perspective – and the suggested wine pairing.

It doesn’t take long for him to receive his glass of wine, or his food, and he’s pleasantly surprised by how efficient service seems. Stealing glances through the open kitchen, he watches as you and your sous lead dinner service with a kind of compassionate leadership and playfulness that warms him from the inside out. 

“We recommend mixing the whipped tofu into the dish for a creamier sauce. Skal,” his waitress greets, with a warm smile on her face as she sets down the bowl of noodles. 

“Cheers,” Luca replies, his eyes savoring every single detail of the dish. 

It’s somehow elevated, thoughtful, and elegant, yet comforting all at once. 

Luca picks up his fork, using it to collect a little bit of everything – a perfect noodle twirl with just enough sauce, and ground pork before running his fork the whipped topping – raising the fork to his lips for his first bite. 

As the flavors hit his tongue, he closes his eyes, and it’s as if time has stopped, just for a moment. 

The wheat noodles are perfectly al dente while the whipped tofu is almost ricotta-like, transforming into a silky smooth addition to the dish, cutting the tingle and heat of the Sichuan chili peppercorn-based sauce. 

The corners of his lips turn up as he takes a breath, opening his eyes as he savors the delicate layers of flavors. With a crooked smile on his face, he decides that he’ll most certainly be back next week. 

-------------------------------

You make peace with the fact that tonight is one of those nights – a slow night – as you finish washing your hands. It being a slow night, you’d encouraged your staff to up the hospitality at the pre-shift meeting. Treating guests with the utmost personal touches in an effort to build genuine connections would be the focus of tonight’s slow service. In fact, you and Mathilde, your sous chef, had been running dishes out this evening – something you rarely had the luxury to do. 

“You should go say hello,” your sous encourages, nodding towards the dining room through the expansive window of the open kitchen. 

“Thought it was your turn,” you reply in a casual tone, paying no attention to who she’s referencing.

“No, I think you should take this one,” Mathilde nudges you, causing you to look up. You shoot her a funny look, your eyes flickering over the mischievous expression she has on her face, to where she’s gestured towards. 

“To-?” you begin to ask, before seeing exactly who she’s talking about.

“Ehm. Tall, blonde, and tatted!” she emphasizes in a whisper yell. 

You don’t really need the description as you glance over at the dining room, easily spotting the man seated at a two-seater near the front window.

“You’re right. He’s become a bit of a regular,” you agree with a curt nod that means all business, no pleasure, as you move a few things as you walk and talk around the kitchen, tidying up.

“That’s not what I meant,” she scoffs with a playful eye roll. 

“You know, Jesper thought he was Swedish because… look at him… but he’s apparently a Brit,” she gossips with you, her eyes stealing a glance his way. “We’re slow tonight. He’s here every week. Sure he’d appreciate a direct thank you from the chef!” 

“I-,” you hesitate, wondering why she’s so damn insistent on this. “... yeah, alright. I’ll go.”

“That’s my girl!” Mathilde cheers, in a sing-song voice, she hands you the beautifully plated bowl of pasta to take out to the dining room.

As you walk over towards his table, you make a note that it seems as if the mystery man has made this a bit of a routine. He shows every Saturday at exactly 7 pm, week after week, for the past month or so, as if it’s a standing date he has with himself. After his first visit, you half-expected him to bring a date when he returned, or bring a group of friends, or for something different to happen. 

But it hadn’t and you’ve watched him come in, week after week, with a different book each time. He always orders the special of the day and whatever suggested wine pairing Jesper’s recommended that week.

Most Saturday nights you're busy leading a kitchen or cooking on the line – having little to no time to fixate or wonder curiously over your weekly diner – but tonight’s pace affords you the luxury to spend more time at the front of house. Truthfully, you know it’s the thing that sets you apart. Sure, the hospitality here in Copenhagen is excellent, but you bring an American hospitality-style to this restaurant – and above and beyond mentality – that feels welcoming, personal, even, as if your restaurant itself is just an extension of your home. 

You’ve heard your staff – front of house and back of house – whispering about him, all seemingly enamored and enchanted by the charming Brit. All any of you knew about him was that his name was Luca and that he’s always more than kind to your front of house staff. 

He doesn’t say much when he comes in, you’ve noticed, but every Saturday at 7 pm, he���s pushing his way through the front door with punctuality and a gentle ease.

The whisperings from your staff had all revolved around who your mysterious regular must be: whether he was Danish or Swedish, that someone that good looking must already have a partner, that he doesn’t wear a ring. 

You hadn’t paid much attention to the gossip (or at least that’s what you’ve told yourself) more focused on running dinner service then trying to piece together the story of your handsome, mysterious regular. 

“Hello,” you greet him warmly. “I just wanted to come introduce myself and say thank you for becoming one of our regulars. Your support means a lot to all of us.”

“Hi, I’m Luca.”

You share your name with a smile as he shakes your hand. 

Luca turns his attention down to the bowl you’ve put in front of him, his eyes taking in the beautiful presentation hungrily. 

“Wow, this looks… incredible,” he marvels, returning his gaze back to you. 

“Thank you. I’m sure my front of house already walked you through this but if you’d like for me to-,” you begin. 

“Yes, that’d be great, thanks,” he interjects, a crooked smile on his face that makes your heart skip a beat. 

You have to pull your attention away from him, hoping he doesn’t notice that you’re quite possibly gawking at him. 

He’s kind, charming, and he’s easy on the eyes (easy on the eyes, really being an understatement here).

“Today’s special was inspired by a childhood favorite of mine,” you begin, walking him through each component of the dish. 

Crispy Rice. Caramelized marinated trumpet mushrooms and charred broccolini. Your mom’s sauce approached with classic French techniques, courtesy of your sous, Mathilde, a classically French-trained chef. 

It’s a marriage of your story. Of the people around you. It’s your heart and theirs, put into a dish. 

“You’re the chef?” he asks, unable to hide the surprise in his voice. 

“Yes,” you answer, trying your best to get a read on him. 

He balks, and you’re unsure of how you’re supposed to respond. Was he surprised that you’re a woman? That he’s been eating your food the whole time and expected a male chef? Before you can overthink it, Luca clarifies with:

“I’m sorry. It’s just-, I can't think of the last time I saw a head chef work front of house, let alone with this much care.” 

Oh. 

You let down your guard, wondering why you’d assumed the worst when the man’s been nothing but kind to you and your staff so far. 

"We're a little short staffed tonight. And I love getting to talk to diners… especially on nights like this,” you explain, trying your best to sound like you hadn’t just assumed that he was a sexist asshole. 

He shakes his head in disbelief, looking down at the picturesque bowl, then back to you.

Luca is impressed, and he has no intention of hiding it.

He picks up his wine glass by the stem, raising it to you.

"Cheers,” he says. “And thank you. This is a really beautiful dish.”

“Of course. Enjoy,” you reply, giving him a polite smile, before heading back into the kitchen. 

 -------------------------------

“Good service tonight, everybody!” Jesper, your front of house manager, announces while clapping a few times to signal to staff that it’s time for a post shift meeting. 

As you all gather in the pristine front of house space. Some of your cooks have taken their aprons off, others haven’t had a moment to unwind from the shift yet – business picking up in the last hour or so of service. 

Jesper goes through his nightly wrap-up notes, celebrating the wins of tonight, and making sure to celebrate how everyone rallied to pick up pace when business spiked. He’s gregarious, larger-than-life, the kind of person who can talk to anyone about anything, making him an excellent front of house manager, and even better sommelier. You really lucked out with the twins, you think to yourself – with Jesper and Mathilde – when they were more than eager to work with you on opening this restaurant. 

“Oh, and before we go, a client left a gift… table number four,” Jesper says, in reference to Luca’s table. He pulls a tan-colored pastry box from another table, setting it down on a table where everyone can take a look. 

“As a thank you. He requested for me to share. So have it and let’s make a note next time he’s in to really treat him like a VIP.”

One of your most-talented servers opens the box, eliciting a chorus of gasps, giggles, and excited whispers as soon as the assortment of croissants and pastries are revealed. 

You and Mathilde exchange a look as everyone else busy themselves with unpacking the pastry box. Mathilde raises an eyebrow and you’re not sure what to say. Witnessing your silent exchange, Jesper makes his way over to the both of you, before extending his arm to reveal the card he’s holding. 

“And this, my dear…” he begins, exchanging a look with his sister. “...is for you.”

“What do you-, just me?” you ask as you take it, hesitantly. 

“I think so, yeah,” he nods, confidently. 

To the Chef, the front of the card reads. 

“Jesper, let’s check out some of these pastries, yeah?” Mathilde suggests, not so subtly hinting towards her brother. 

He nods, giving you a little space so that you can read the card Luca’s left for you. 

As your staff divvy up the box of laminated pastries, sighing with joy as they taste the decadent, hand-crafted sweets, you take a few steps away to open the note. His handwriting is pristine – perfectly neat in every way, like he’s written over carefully measured invisible lines.

Chef,

Thank you for all of the great meals. I'd like to return the favor, that is, if you're open to it. 

Tomorrow. 5 pm. Dronningens Tværgade 2, 1302

While Luca’s gift has been more-than-generous, you find yourself overwhelmed by questions. Was he a chef too? And why had he not said anything? And what was this gesture all about anyways?

You read the card a few more times, turning the words over in your head as you try to make sense of it. 

Mathilde can see your overwhelm, your eyebrows knitted into one confused expression as she saunters back over to you.

“What does it say?” she asks, curiously. “A love confession perhaps?”

“Mathilde, you really have to stop reading all of those French romance novels!” you tease her. “It’s giving you too many ideas.”

“It’s the only way I keep up with my French!” she defends herself with a lackadaisical shrug, earning a laugh from you.

“Uh no… it’s actually a thank you card… only I think he… wants to feed me,” you share with her, holding the card out so that she can take a look. 

“He’s a chef too?” she asks, taking the card from your hands. 

“I think so, yeah,” you reply, letting out an exasperated laugh. 

“Oh shit!” Mathilde exclaims, as soon as she sees the address that Luca’s written down. 

“What?” you ask her, wondering if there’s something you missed. 

“The address… that’s AOC. I think he’s a chef at AOC, babe,” she gasps, shaking her head as she hands the card back to you, sending a ‘you lucky, bitch’ look your way.

Oh shit, is right.

[thehouseofevangelista]

I just watched a tiktok of Will Poulter talking about the lack of fine dining restaurants specializing in African cuisines, and how only 4 Michelin stars have ever been held by Black chefs. I feel like this fact would be such an interesting addition to the Sydney wants a star plot line and considering how their first menu drew so heavily on Carm’s Italian culture it would be nice to see a future menu drawing from Syd’s Nigerian/west African heritage.

[generalllimaginesss]

prompt: “if you don’t love me just say that”. “i was 15 minutes late!”

with Jamie drysdale if possible <333

I hope you like this!! My first Jamie fic :)) Also I’m about to start working on a few more requests, but keep sending them in! As always, thank you so much for reading!!

••

The clock on the nightstand read the time as 7:15 p.m. a reminder of the absence of a certain someone that should’ve been home already.

Jamie had promised that he wasn’t going to be late for the date, but he was going golfing with a few of his teammates, and well, there’s no telling what events unfolded and what time he would be home.

As you were finishing the small details of your makeup, satisfied with your reflection in the mirror on your vanity, the sound of the door that led to the garage frantically opened and shut. A flash of fair skin and dark hair darted straight past you to the shower in your shared bathroom.

“Jamie…” You gave him a disappointed sigh, listening as he was taking the world’s fastest shower.

“I know, I know,” He called, washing the sweat out his hair.

It felt like he was taking forever, but between the time that he got out of the shower and started to dry his hair with the hair dryer, about 15 minutes passed.

You had already laid his suit on the bed with his shoes and belt to the side so that he wouldn’t have to take the time to decide between the many suits he had.

“Trevor told me to tell you that he’s not sorry for stealing me for the day,” Jamie winked at you, flashing a teasing smile as he began to get dressed, tucking his shirt in, putting his belt on, and tying his shoes.

“Hm, was that before or after you realized you were going to be late,” You asked, spritzing perfume on your wrists and chest.

“Babe,” Jamie whined.

“The next time you see Trevor, tell him he’s the side bitch,” You flashed a sarcastic smile towards Jamie, him grinning in response.

“Is that right,” Jamie quipped, adjusting the watch on his wrist. He snaked an arm around your waist, the smell of your perfume intoxicating him. His lips left a dewy kiss on your temple.

“Better be,” You responded under your breath and began to make your way to the living room, waiting on Jamie to make sure his hair looked decent and completely ignoring his attempt at reconciliation.

The two of you made your way to your favorite fine dining restaurant near your house, an Italian restaurant that had some of the best drinks in town.

“What are you getting?” Jamie asked, his eyes peering at you from behind his menu.

“The usual.”

“And that would be…” Jamie knew he’d have to work a little bit to get out of the dog house for being late.

“If you don’t love me just say it,” You rolled your eyes as you raised your eyebrows as him, holding back the smile that was fighting to show while giving him a hard time.

“Babe, I was 15 minutes late!” His voice rose as he defended himself. He knew you wouldn’t be able to drop this until he made it up to you in some way.

“I’m just teasing, you goob. I know you love me,” You thumped his forehead, him rubbing it in response.

“I love you so very much,” He took your hand and tangled your legs underneath the table.

“More than golf?” You questioned.

He pretended to think about it, resulting in a kick to his shin, but he quickly responded.

“Golf’s got nothing against my girl,” He smiled, kissing the top of your hand.

He discretely rubbed his shin, but he’d take a million kicks to the shin if it meant he could tell you how much he loved you all the time.

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Chatterbox (M, cold, 'drabble')

A little prompt-based fluff for you guys :) Reed and Greyson go out to dinner, but Reed realizes something is up when Greyson won't shut tf up lol. I'm loving writing this relationship, I can't lie, so sorry if it's too much Reed and Greyson lately - I'll get back to my other guys soon!

1.6K words (just a tiny lil blip of a story haha) CW: Male snz, coughing, fever, contagion mention. Hope you like it :)

Chatterbox

Reed looked down at his phone as he waited on Greyson, rereading the stream-of-consciousness texts his boyfriend had sent throughout the day.

Greyson

1:42PM

sooo pumped for tonight bb :)

1:56PM

should I wear a suit…? I know it’s a new spot but the website definitely reads ‘fine dining’, like fine-er than most of my clothes know how to be...

2:24PM

I think I’ll do dark jeans & a black button up. johnny cash style. cant go wrong w that. hahah.

3:17PM

I know ur working still but im just really excited to see you:):)

It was cute – borderline adorable – how nervous Greyson seemed for their dates, even after almost a year of the two of them being together. Reed had, of course, answered Greyson’s plethora texts throughout the day, but had tried to keep himself subdued so he wouldn’t give away his hand; tonight, he was going to ask Greyson to move in with him.

He knew it was a bit of a long time coming, but Reed was really trying to keep from scaring Greyson off by doing anything too quickly. His boyfriend certainly had a bit of past-relationship trauma that Reed tried valiantly to navigate; it was hard to figure out what the right time to do anything was. Sometimes, he wasn’t sure there was ever going to be a right time to push their relationship to the next level. But things had been good lately; like, really good. Tonight felt… right.

Greyson’s presence was palpable before Reed even saw him blow through the door. He looked up from his phone and clocked his boyfriend, standing out side the restaurant with his elbow locked over his face; Reed cocked his head a bit, confused. Was he… coughing?

The chef, clad in the Johnny-Cash-getup he’d promised, shook himself out before pushing the door to the restaurant open. He pawed at his nose with the back of his hand while asking the hostess to point Reed out – she gestured towards their table, and Greyson smiled when the two of them locked eyes. Reed waved, smiling back. Something was certainly… off.

“Sorry I’m late, baby,” Greyson said, kissing the top of Reed’s head before sitting across from him. “The fuckin’ train was running late again.”

“I’ve told you a million times I’ll come pick you up for dates,” Reed said, squeezing Greyson’s hand across the table. “You don’t always have to take the train.”

Greyson shrugged, smiled a little loopily. “I like the train,” he said, picking up his menu and squinting at the small font. “Lots of time to think. I’ve come up with my best dishes on the subway, I’m pretty sure; you remember that tart I made for the writer’s dinner, the one where we saw each other for the second time? Came up with that on the train. I was sitting next to this girl, probably a student, and she was eating one of those little egg tarts, the ones from the Japanese bakeries? I thought, damn I bet a root vegetable in one of those would fuckin’ slay – spoiler alert, it so did. Where would I have come up with that if not for the train? Plus, it’s one of the most sustainable ways to travel. I get my good karma for not actively killing the environment in. Win-win. What’re we eat – HTSHH! NXTSHH!” Greyson’s explosion of word vomit was very suddenly cut off to stifle two painful-sounding sneezes into the back of his hand.

Reed blinked for what was maybe the first time since his boyfriend sat down. “...bless,” he said after a beat. Greyson nodded, sniffled a little, and picked the menu back up.

“What’s this place’s thing anyway?” Greyson continued, flipping the menu over to look at drinks. “I can’t seem to figure it out; are they Italian? Mediterranean? Fine dining? Just high-end? No tasting menu, but prices are high enough to warrant one. Wine list reads very Italian, but there are like three dishes with hummus on them? I’m half-expecting to be served babaganoush bolognese. Which… maybe would work? Actually, eggplant, tomato sauce… I could see it working. You never know. Can’t judge a book by its menu, right? What’re you drinking? Want to get a bot -?”

This second monologue was cut short when Reed reached across the table to place a gentle hand on Greyson’s face. Just as he expected: hot.

“Babe,” Reed said gently, taking his hand back, “you’re burning up.”

The chef cast his glance down, embarrassed. “You weren’t supposed to figure that out till after dinner,” he muttered. Reed laughed.

“Seriously? You had to know I’d figure something was up. You’ve been monologing since the moment you sat down. Have you been sick all day? You should’ve told me, honey. How much cough medicine did you take before you showed up here?”

Greyson looked up at Reed and gave him a little half-smile. “Pretty sure I downed half a bottle of Robutusssin, not gonna liiii – hh! HhNXTSHH-ue! Huh-TSHH-ue!” Once again, Greyson attempted to stifle, to no avail. He allowed himself two painful little coughs before righting himself again.

“Bless you,” Reed said again. “I wish you would just sneeze normal, that always sounds so painful.”

“We’re in a restaurant,” Greyson said, a huskiness beginning to creep in to his voice. “That’s so gross.”

Reed rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Who cares? No one’s looking at us. They’re too busy with their many, many hummuses.”

A laugh bubbled out of Greyson, and with it came a flurry of congested coughs he directed into the sleeve of his shirt. “Don’t mbake me laugh,” he muttered, taking a drink of water. “You’re gonna get us kicked out.”

“Good,” Reed said, flagging the waiter. “I’m so sorry,” he said when the young, well-dressed server came to their table, “something’s come up and we’re going to have to go.” He handed the kid a fifty. “Thank you for your help.”

The server nodded, said thank you to Reed, and went to grab the two men’s jackets. Greyson raised an eyebrow, confused. “What’re you doing?”

“Taking you home,” Reed said. “You need tea and soup, not…” he glanced back down at the menu, “fattoush flatbread.” Greyson visibly deflated.

“I wanted to spend the evening with you,” he said, his voice subdued. “I’m sorry. I should’ve called and canceled, I just… I mbiss you when we don’t see each other all week. You’re always busy, I’mb always busy, it just fucking sucks. I don’t even know how I got fucking sick… oh wait, yes I do. Elijah had a cold last week – was that last week? Did I tell you that? I can’t remember. I think the servers gave it to him. Fuckin’ servers, I’ve never met a group of people who get sick mbore than theehh – huh! Fuck – HUHETSHHH-ue! Huh-! HhITSZZZCH-ue!” Greyson folded in half, his torso practically beneath the table in an attempt to keep the entire restaurant from hearing him. It was, of course, at that moment that the server returned with their coats. Reed took them silently, and stood to gather his boyfriend, who slowly unfurled himself from his own lap.

“Bless you,” he said, gently helping Greyson to his feet and slipping his coat over his shoulders. He lead the two of them past the host stand and onto the sidewalk, where he turned Greyson to face him.

“First of all,” he said, sweeping Greyson’s hair out of his eyes and caressing his cheek, “I know a subset of people who get sick more than servers, and it’s chefs. You and all your chef buddies are pestilence incarnate because you work nine hundred hours a week.” This prompted a little laugh from Greyson. Perfect, thought Reed. Break the tension.

“Secondly, yes, you did tell me that Elijah was sick, and I told you, and I quote, ‘Don’t get too close, I know you two love to share a cold’, but I know you don’t like to listen to authority, so not sure what I expected.” Another laugh. Greyson pushed his hair back, rubbed his nose, and pulled Reed in to hug him. Reed continued from this spot, pressed into Greyson’s shoulder.

“And thirdly,” he said, “I miss you too. All the time. Which is why I asked you out tonight.” He pulled away, reached into his pocket, and dropped a key into Greyson’s palm. “I don’t want to miss you anymore. I don’t want you to have to take the train from Brooklyn every single night, I don’t want us to hang out once a week, I don’t want to drop you at your apartment to take care of yourself. I want to see you when I wake up every morning. I want to hear you sneak in at three AM after you and Matt go clubbing. I want to take care of you, at home, when you’re sick.” Reed smiled, a little embarrassed, as Greyson stared at the key. “Move in with me,” Reed said. “Please.”

Greyson’s mouth opened, then shut without words a couple of times before he looked Reed in the eyes. “Yes,” he said, nodding. “Okay. Yes. Yes, please.”

Reed felt a smile bloom on his face, huge, goofy, unashamed. He took Greyson’s face in his hands and planted a kiss on his lips. Greyson held his boyfriend by the waist, then picked him up to spin him around. “I love you,” Greyson muttered into Reed’s mouth.

“I love you more,” Reed said, smiling. Greyson turned away then, suddenly to -

“HRRSHH-ue! HhhITSHZZCH-ue!” he sneezed away from his boyfriend, which prompted a laugh from Reed.

“Probably too late for that nicety,” Reed joked, elbowing Greyson playfully. The chef huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes.

“I figured sneezing directly into your face would probably kill the moment,” he said, sniffling. “But I’ll go ahead and just do it next time.”

“Oh, shut up,” Reed laughed, kissing Greyson again. “C’mon. Let’s get you home and in bed. Sickie.”

Greyson smiled a little. “Yeah,” he said, looping his arm into Reed’s. “Let’s go home.”

[literalite]

character/story influences tag

rules: write up a blurb or make a visual collage of the people or characters (from books, TV shows, movies, etc.) that inspired your story and/or OC, either visually, personality wise, or just a general vibe

thanks for the tag @tricoufamily :DD i am tagging @gunthermunch @lucidicer @itsmariejanel @orphyd @goldenwaves this is FUN u should do it. thank u

medias/characters meet me in the woods: man in the dark (paul auster), orlando (virginia woolf), lord huron's entire discography, specifically meet me in the woods and the ghost on the shore, the godfather 1972 (barely), age of adaline 2015, the old guard 2020, this specific cc cross, and reading homer's the iliad in my final year of high school. somehow don't go where i can't follow: the raven cycle (maggie stiefvater), his dark materials (philip pullman), adventure time 2010-2018, mitski’s bury me at makeout creek album, next of kin by alvvays, bite the hand by boygenius, matilda (roald dahl) (jokingly), horrible no good homoerotic teenage friendships, the chosen one trope, and this post by tumblr user @/louisegluckpdf. also my life which explains why the aesthetic is completely disjointed RIP violent affairs (with @lucidicer): nbc hannibal, bones and all 2022, arachnids, ethel cain’s preacher's daughter, sir chloe’s i am the dog album, mine and olli's deranged combined mental energies mutually focusing on t4t cannibalism  vinny reign: matt murdock (netflix daredevil), joel miller (tlou), the fallen angel painting by alexandre cabanel, caravaggio paintings, catholic guilt, arsonist’s lullabye by hozier caleb vatore: those italian twinks that renaissance artists kept referencing to paint religious figures, dorian gray, orlando, timothee chalamet (LMAO), the reveal that the noo don’t kill yourself you’re so sexy guy is a twink [redacted] morrow: gojo satoru, howl pendragon (studio ghibli), jay gatsby, kageyama shigeo and also a bit of reigen arataka (mp100), ronan lynch and gansey (the raven cycle), eden's entire discography, birdcage by novo amor, mercy by sir chloe, myself ophelia griffin: ophelia painting by john everett millais, blue sargent (the raven cycle), clairo, phoebe bridger's discography, strawberry blonde and your best american girl by mitski, clairo’s immunity album, the first crush i ever had manny pluto: yotasuke takahashi (blue period), tbh a lot of blue period in general, alhaitham (genshin impact), adam parrish (the raven cycle), a hint of geto suguru, working for the knife by mitski nayef al karim: spiders, abel AND cain, julian slowik (the menu 2022), hannibal lecter (yes obvious i know but moreso the focus on fine dining as opposed to the psychology), stewy hosseini (succession), inbred by ethel cain

[jasfhercallejo]

“Negroni… Sbagliato… with Prosecco in it.” I literally screamed when I saw this cocktail on the menu. It was giving Emma D’Arcy's strong "stunning" personality.

Here at Kermit Siargao, we indulged in the best of both worlds – authentic Italian cuisine and the breathtaking beauty of Siargao. The restaurant and pizzeria gained a reputation for serving some of the finest Italian dishes on the island. Using the freshest ingredients imported from Italy and complemented by local organic produce, every dish is prepared from scratch with no artificial flavor enhancers.

From freshly made bread and pizza dough to tantalizing pasta dishes, the menu here is a culinary delight. And to quench your thirst, they offer a variety of cold beers, local craft beers, refreshing juices, and their signature cocktails. We ordered Bruschetta Italiana, Pork Saltimbocca, and Kermit Pizza, and a few cocktails (read: I know right tanghaling tapat? haha pero bakit ba di naman bawal haha)

Just to share, Lamari Siargao is actually one of our choices for accommodation, but we opted to stay in Siargao Island Villas and Siargao Bleu as we got lucky the beachfront rooms were still available. Nonetheless, Lamari is definitely a good contender. While we did not stay here, we grabbed a few food and drinks at the majestic Lamari Bar. The bar has a striking bamboo façade and a spacious al fresco dining area — the perfect place to kick back, listen to good music, eat good food, and grab a few laughs with friends. The cocktail menu is just as extensive, serving local artisan brews along with more popular imported spirits.

Siargao Island's dining scene promises a culinary adventure that will satisfy every palate. Whether you're craving international flavors or eager to sample local delicacies, these restaurants offer a diverse range of options to tantalize your taste buds. We had our last meal in Siargao here in Isla Cusina, and it did not disappoint with its sumptuous and delectable Asian and Western cuisine.

From the Italian wonders of Kermit, to the refreshing smoothie bowl from Shaka Cafe and the heavenly ice cream from Halika Siargao, every bite and sip was a moment of pure bliss. What a gastronomic experience (read: masarap mag buhay baboy dito haha)

If you love ice cream, you should definitely check out Halika Artisan Gelato in Siargao. They offer special flavors, and some of your favorite ones with a fine artisanal touch. The cool sweet richness will hit differently (in the best way lol) after all the fun under the heat of the sun. Notably, their ice cream is so good that they’ve become a street staple!

We have to admit we’re not foodies, but we were impressed by the level of culinary expertise here. The cuisine in Siargao possesses an international flair that other Filipino islands didn’t necessarily have – walking through General Luna and Tourism Road, you’ll notice Italian, Indonesian, Thai, Filipino restaurants, as well as bars and breakfast spots. There are also so many cute cafés on Tourism Road – we actually didn’t expect there to be such a café culture on the island.

[casualaruanienjoyer]

Prompt idea: AU where Niccolo introduces Sasha to his parents 🙂

Anon!!!! Aaa this is adorable😭 right right, there are many ways to go about this one, but I think I have an idea, so enjoy!! Sorry it's so long!! (Also my headcanon is that Niccolo's family is whatever the equivalent of Italian is in the world of AOT)

Meeting Niccolo's parents

Niccolo and Sasha have known each other for a while now. Since he got tasked with cooking for the military, they meet almost every day. Sasha was always there first, breakfast, lunch, dinner. It didn't matter! She'd arrive early to ask him about the menu for the day, and she'd usually manage to get extra food from him too. She was always the last one to leave.

Niccolo is, quite frankly, absolutely smitten with this unsophisticated woman. The more he cooked for her, the more he fell for her. She's just… hilarious! He'd never met anyone like her before, someone that enjoys his food so much. Someone that is so unapologetically gluttonous and wild. It amuses him.

Sasha, on the other hand, felt rather confused. Every time she saw Niccolo, she felt very happy, bashful even. But was it her love for his food making her feel like that, or was there something else? She decided to not think about it too much. She didn't usually take feelings like this very seriously.

But today she finds this to be almost impossible.

Today they are set to visit Marley, take a bit of time off to explore the world beyond the walls. And Niccolo somehow managed to convince Captain Levi to let him tag along. Niccolo owns him a lifetime supply of exotic tea, but that doesn't matter now.

What matters is that today he will visit his parents. This was an agreement between him and Captain Levi alone, since it has been a while since Niccolo last saw his parents. They are growing old, and he doesn't know when he'll get to see them again.

"Come, I'd like you to meet someone" Niccolo whispers and pulls Sasha into the crowd with him. It doesn't take long for them to lose the others, and Sasha is confused. "Don't worry, the Captain knows about this."

His grip on her hand is firm, and they walk so fast that she has to hold onto her hat to stop it from being taken away by the ocean breeze.

"Not long now" he turns to her, smiling, and Sasha's heart skips a beat. Her brows furrow and she looks down at the rhythmic movement of her feet. Why did she feel like this?

They soon arrive before a narrow building, squished between many others. Niccolo fixes his clothes and hair, then knocks on the door.

An older, taller man with a pretty impressive moustache opens the door slightly and his eyes widen when he sees Niccolo. "BIANCA, COME HERE! IT'S NICCOLO!!" The two basically yank Niccolo and Sasha inside. His mom checks him all over while his dad rushes out the room to set the dining table.

Sasha feels out of place. Why did Niccolo bring her here?

His parents ask numerous questions.

"Where have you been???"

"Have you eaten???"

"Are they treating you well in the navy???"

"Who is this pretty young lady???"

"I'm fine, I'm fine! I swear!" Niccolo scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. "Papa, Mamma, I want you to meet Sasha" and he gestures towards Sasha, taking her hand in his.

Sasha's heart skips another beat. What is happening?

"Oh my, what a pretty name!"

Sasha clears her throat. "Ah-um. Nice to meet you!" She says a bit too seriously, extending a determined hand towards the dad, shaking his vigorously. She then proceeds to do the same for his mom. She comes off a bit stiff, but they smile regardless.

"Wow, such strong arms! Are you also in the navy?" Bianca asks.

Niccolo looks at Sasha with a knowing gaze. "Yeah. Yes, we met in the navy. Of course" she smiles, hoping they buy their story. Sasha's never even been good with boats. They make her sea sick.

"Unfortunately, we can't stay long, our ship only pulled in here for a few hours. But I thought we could enjoy lunch together?"

"Yes yes of course bambino mio, we were just about to enjoy some home made pasta together."

The table is now set and everyone grabs a seat. Sasha can't help but admire their beautiful home. It feels very warm and cosy.

"Sasha, have you ever had Testaroli? I hope you'll like mine!" Bianca says as she bring out plates full of delicious looking food. Sasha has no idea what Testaroli was, but she couldn't care less. She was now INCREDIBLY hungry.

"Ah mamma, I'm sure Sasha will lo-" but the moment the plates touch the table Sasha immediately digs in. She takes a forkful of pasta and shoves it in her mouth. She looks incredibly focused, assessing every foreign flavour in her mouth. Her brows furrow and relax and her expression changes several times per second.

She lowers her cutlery, one hand reaching up to wipe some tears that hang at the corners of her eyes. "This… this is MAGNIFICENT! AMAZING! DELICIOUS! HOW HAVE I LIVED MY WHOLE LIFE WITHOUT KNOWING ABOUT TESTAROLI" she whines dramatically, leaning back in her chair and throwing her arms in the air.

Her parents are in complete shock, but Niccolo laughs and pats Sasha on the back. "There there, don't worry about it, I can make it for you any time you want!"

Sasha looks at him with big sparkly eyes and smiles widely.

Niccolo and his parents burst out laughing while Sasha continues to devour her pasta. They spend the rest of their lunch chatting about Niccolo's parents and what they have been up to.

Time finally comes for them to leave, and Niccolo hugs his parents very tightly. "I hope to see you again, mamma, papa. Please take care of yourselves!"

Bianca wipes some tears away while Stefano proceeds to slap Niccolo's back really hard, dad style.

"Next time see you at the wedding, no? HAHAHA" Niccolo's dad shouts as they leave through the door, and Sasha almost trips and falls down the modest set of stairs in front of the entrance.

"The WHAT-?"

💜This fic is now also on AO3

[spagnoletti]

Experiencing The Essence of Italian Fine Dining in London: Spagnoletti

Welcome to the enchanting world of Spagnoletti, where Italian soul food meets a retro-futuristic 'flour lab' experience right in the heart of King's Cross. If you're a food enthusiast with an insatiable craving for exquisite flavors, innovative dining environments, and a touch of theatricality, you're about to embark on a culinary adventure that will redefine your notion of Italian fine dining in London.

Italian Essence with a Contemporary Twist

Imagine a place where the essence of Italian cuisine meets a contemporary twist, and the result is a symphony of flavors that dance on your palate. At Spagnoletti, we've curated a menu that celebrates the soul of Italian cooking, all centered around a single, extraordinary ingredient: flour. This seemingly humble component becomes the canvas upon which our chefs create culinary masterpieces that transcend traditional boundaries.

A Flour Lab Experience

Step into our whimsically retro-futuristic 'flour lab' and witness the magic unfold in our open kitchen. Here, we craft fresh ingredients from scratch every single day, ensuring that every bite you take is a celebration of authenticity and innovation. From sumptuous pastries and delectable breads to mouthwatering snacks and intricate pasta dishes, every creation is a testament to the dedication and passion of our culinary artisans.

Open Cucina: A Feast for the Senses

Our open kitchen concept isn't just about showcasing the culinary process—it's about engaging all your senses in a gastronomic journey. From breakfast to dinner, our menu offers an array of options to suit every craving and occasion:

Breakfast Delights: Kickstart your day with an assortment of freshly baked pastries that melt in your mouth and set the tone for a day of indulgence.

Lunchtime Temptations: Whether you're seeking a light bite or a hearty meal, our selection of small plates and sharing platters ensures a delightful lunchtime experience.

Dinner Extravaganza: As the sun sets, the enchantment continues with signature pasta dishes that showcase the true artistry of Italian cuisine.

Where Culinary Creativity Meets Ingenious Design

Spagnoletti, the embodiment of Italian fine dining in London, isn't just about exceptional cuisine; it's an experience that engages all your senses. Our restaurant design pays homage to London's innovative spirit, inspired by one of the city's pioneering engineers. The cleverly divided interior offers distinct environments for individuals, groups, parties, or business events. Whether you're looking for an intimate dinner or a lively celebration, Spagnoletti has a space that suits your needs.

Elevate Your Experience at the Spagnoletti Spritz Lounge

For those seeking a touch of sophistication and a dash of elegance, a journey to the upper floor unveils the Spagnoletti Spritz Lounge. Here, you'll find a long communal bar that serves draught Venetian wine, beer on tap, and an innovative cocktail station. It's the perfect spot to unwind, connect, and savor the finest libations in a captivating ambiance.

Your Flour-Centric Culinary Journey Begins!

As we conclude this enticing journey through the world of Spagnoletti, we invite you to experience firsthand the magic that unfolds when Italian soul food meets contemporary innovation. From the humble flour that weaves through every dish to the whimsical 'flour lab' design, every element has been meticulously curated to provide you with an unforgettable dining experience.

Don't miss out on the chance to immerse yourself in the enchanting world of Spagnoletti. Whether you're celebrating a special occasion or simply looking to treat yourself, our doors are open, and our culinary artisans are ready to take you on a journey through the heart of Italian fine dining in London. Book your table now and prepare to savor the extraordinary.

Ready to Indulge? Reserve Your Table Today!

[dietmountaindreww]

fine dining.

warnings: suggestive talk, other than that nothing! - mentions of food. [Drew Starkey x Female reader.]

part 3 of a series in which Y/N is Drew’s co-star

Drew chuckles at Y/N’s response. “So Dinner and Wine.. Fine Dining if you ask me. There’s an Italian near mine i’ve been meaning to show you.” He smiles at her, “We can just walk in, booking a table might attract paparazzi.” Drew knows it’s the best option for them.

Drew holds the heavy door open to the restaurant on his street, “After you.” Y/N giggled as he playfully remarked , holding the door for her. He converses with the hostess, asking for a table for two.

Y/N and Drew are seated at a table in the corner of the establishment, which is a perfectly fine and private spot. “This is a good spot, we aren’t in the limelight.” He winked at Y/N, pulling out her chair for her politely before taking his own seat opposite her. Y/N

smiles and rests her hands on the menu softly on the wooden table before her, before asking Drew.

“What do you usually get from here?”

“They usually have amazing pasta, which i usually get with a wine. What about you what are you thinking?” Drew smiles at Y/N.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

Greeting the host who comes over to the table, Drew orders their drinks and food before leaving. He looked at Y/N before leaning over so nobody can hear their conversation. “So how did you find today? Do you think it went okay? With the Interview.” He quietly asked, a big soft golden retriever smile plastered across his gorgeous face. Y/N smiles back softly, “I think it went great. From the hears of that reporter i’m sure the Outer Banks fans are loving it.” She finishes with a soft laugh, her strong scent of cherry lipgloss travelling, empowering Drew’s focus on her. Drew listened attentively as she talked, she just always managed to know how to make him feel so comfortable, her laugh a delightful blessing to him. “I’m sure you’ll get lots of support, you definitely deserve it Y/N.”

Y/N felt flattered, blushing before leaning back slightly. She couldn’t really handle being that close to Drew without getting flustered. Good friends. She quickly changes topic. “Nice shirt by the way.” Nodding at his tight fitting tee, but really just checking out his muscular structure and arms. Drew looked down at his shirt and smiled, loving how flustered Y/N looked. “It’s just a simple shirt but thanks Y/N.” He is so proud of how weak he made her, proud of his body and her reaction, before smirking slightly. “Do you like the way i dress?” Coating the realistic meaning behind those words, Y/N was caught off guard immediately. Hoping their drinks would arrive soon so they could drop the whole checking Drew out moment. “Uh.. yeah, yeah you have good- good style.” Drew smiles now. “Thanks, that’s a golden compliment from a stylish woman such as yourself.” He hopes this compliment distracts her, worried he said something he shouldn’t have. He didn’t want to offend her or ruin anything about their little evening by being helplessly flirtatious.

Y/N nodded and thanked Drew before their wine finally came to the table. Drew is slightly nervous as he remembers the last time the two of them had wine they ended up hooking up. He feels his heart racing and speaks to calm his nerves. “So, how have you been? Sorry if i haven’t had much of a chance to speak to you. I’ve had a packed dining schedule recently, then this interview of course.”

Y/N understands and nods, taking a sip of her wine. “I’ve been just fine, how about you though? Not overworking yourself are you?”

Drew leans in, “well you know i like overworking myself.” He commented with a wink, “But seriously, I need some rest. It’s like I never stop working but i just love it so much.. i’ll probably take a break pretty soon.. then i could see you more often.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. Did he really want that? “Sure.. we can hang out.” Mentally reminding herself he was just being kind, and being a good friend.. Taking a long sip of wine as their food is placed before them and they both thank the staff. Drew hopefully smiled.. trying not to seem to excited. “That sounds great. We can get to know each-other more and i even take you up to the beach to teach you how to surf.. if you didn’t know already.” He hopes Y/N would like that, he loved the ocean and hoped it would be exciting if she accepted the surfing date he had in mind. “You surf?” She smiled widely, mentally noting. No wonder he’s so muscular. Taking another bite into their meals. Drew playfully replied “Yup, you don’t? I love it.. it’s super easy once you get the hang of it.. we can have a beach trip or something.” He nervously suggested, still leaning close to her so their conversation was between them. Once Y/N had finished her current portion she softly smiled as she sipped her wine. “That sounds great Drew.. I’d love to.” Drew had a large smile on his face, excitement clear in his tone. “When will you want to go surfing?” He asked, wondering when they could book it in and what date because he really is looking forward to it now they’re talking about it. “Oh, well I’m free this weekend?” Y/N spoke as she neatly placed her cutlery down. “My agent’s on vacation so i don’t really have anything booked.”

The two finish their meal, arranging to meet on Saturday, as the waitress brings the bill soon after clearing their plates. “Shall we go then?” Drew suggested as he pulled out his Waller and counted a few notes to be able to pay the bill. After placing the money on the table he looked at Y/N with a smile, before she protested. “Oh, Drew i can split the bill.” She grabbed her bag from the floor mentally cursing herself for not offering earlier, she was so zoned out in thought she hadn’t even noticed, how shitty of her. “No, I’m paying for it.” Drew smiled kindly, he didn’t mind paying for the bill and he always liked paying for dates, Y/N knows how much he will go out of his way to make the people he loves feel special, he feels kind of bad now and thinks maybe he isn’t making her feel special or doing enough for her, he’ll pay no matter what. “Are you sure? I have money.?” She slightly hesitated, unsure if it was fair. Plus, they were just friends right? “Course.” He gave her a kind gaze, hopping she noticed, wanting her to feel well treated just as if she were a princess, which she was in his eyes . “I should pay for it, don’t even worry about it doll.”

As they leave the restaurant, Y/N tries her best to not let his charming ways get to her so personally as he held the door. “That was nice, it’s really cosy in there.” Dew smiled, it warmed his heart to see her so happy. “I know right? I fucking love this place, I’ll call you a cab to your place.” Y/N smiled. “I can book myself a cab, no worries. But thank you.” She found his thoughtful nature so attractive, whoever ever ended up dating Drew would be a lucky woman. Although she loved being his friend and loved their beneficial occasional, she often wished it was more. But she couldn’t allow herself to think like that, she pulled out her phone to book a cab.

Drew feels content right now, his effect on Y/N was evident as her smile radiated happiness and he was so glad. “Of course, I’m always happy to offer to take care of you.” Y/N felt her cheeks glow pink. “Says it’ll be here any second.. so Saturday right? Beach dat- day.” Correcting herself before she got ahead of her own thoughts. “Yeah Saturday will be great, looking forward to teaching you.. I’ll pick you up around 10?” Y/N agreed before rushing to her taxi door as Drew stood beautifully with his hands in pocket and watched.

[leoslosttoolbelt]

YOU GUYS HEAR ME OUT valdangelo rivals to lovers au where they both run different restaurants that happen to be right in front of each other. Nico owns a fine dining Italian restaurant that's frequented by important people and always has the best reviews and Leo has a Mexican restaurant that's always buzzing with students and takeaway orders - literally no one cares about their rivalry except them. Both of their food places are so different with such different target demographics that comparing them doesn't make sense but neither of them are going to 'back down'.

Nico gets a wine cellar? Leo's already updating their best-selling salsa recipe. Nico gets a michallin star? Leo needs to expand to another floor to handle the customers. Despite how much they seem to despite each other, nothing says more about their relationship other than the way that Leo spends his Friday night at Nico's restaurant when they've both closed - bickering over a bottle of white wine and some of Leo's off-the-menu spicy chicken pesto and cream risotto concoction that Nico makes fun of but makes regardless. Or the way that Nico orders from Leo's restaurant at least twice a week when he's had a busy day - he never talks about how Leo always gives him an extra serving of guacamole, or the way Leo always makes sure to deliver his order to Nico's doorstep himself.

[keepingupwithsasha]

RPM SETS THE BAR!

Located in the Mount Vernon neighborhood of Washington, D.C., RPM Italian embodies a modern ethos with an Italian essence, showcasing a chef-inspired menu that emphasizes contemporary flavors and encourages sharing among diners.

The ambiance- chic and contemporary, complete with white leather seats and attentive service, sets the stage for an opulent evening out. The menu offers versatility with its foundation in Italian comfort food: expect starters like prime beef meatballs in rich red sauce, premium steaks such as Gorgonzola-cured wagyu, and housemade pastas. Central to RPM Italian's culinary identity is its pasta program, featuring over a dozen varieties of freshly crafted artisanal pastas made by hand daily. Complementing this cornerstone are a plethora of menu highlights, including an extensive array of antipasti, crudo, steaks, chops, simply grilled fish, and beloved Italian classics, all ideal for communal enjoyment.

But what about the service? RPM understood the assignment in this department for sure!

The attention to detail and preparation are paramount at RPM Italian restaurant, where both style and cuisine are meticulously curated. From the impeccably dressed waitstaff in their white coats, evoking a Hollywood-esque ambiance, to the personalized approach of each waiter, it's evident that every aspect is finely tuned to deliver a sophisticated dining experience. Their eloquent descriptions of entrée choices and drink options further enhance the overall performance.

Yes, the menu is phenomenal if you're an Italian lover, but, the service is what really made the experience one to remember. RPM Italian deserves a spot on your list for anniversaries, memorable first dates, and any occasion where you seek to savor life's moments with flair. Kudos to the entire RPM team for their dedication to treating every guest like a celebrity and maintaining the integrity of the food and dining experience, which has garnered more acclaim than even the celebrity owners themselves. Here's to RPM Italian – cheers!

[aloyxtilda]

IF lis and tilda went out to eat dinner - where would they go? And what would they order?

Oh my goodness I love this question!! 😍❤ So fun to imagine. 😌 Haha.

So my guess is, Tilda would suggest some 3 star Michelin restaurant. While Lis would prefer more common fine dining. Still fancy enough to be romantic but at a much lower cost. Of course our Zenith would go with what makes her lover happy. Tilda would order the most expensive dish on the menu. Barely caring what it is as long as it's top quality. She gets the Grilled Filet Mignon with Lobster and Béarnaise Sauce and for her drink, vodka with olive. Elizabet orders the Chicken Cordon Bleu with Creamy Parmesan Sauce. Her drink is an old fashioned. Elizabet can hold her liquor well. She has a high tolerance while Tilda is a light weight and could get drunk easily if not careful.

Our red head dressed appropriately in a slim black dress and only carefully did her hair and make up more than usual. While Tilda is highly over dressed in an incredibly expensive blue blazer and pants, designer white collar shirt, jewelry covered in diamonds and fancy Italian dress shoes.

Thank you for this question. 🌹❤🍷😌

[the-restau-rants]

We Do Not Want Fries With That

I have long maintained that the best thing that the owners of any given business can do is simply stay the hell out of the way. Because one of our owners keeps getting these “brilliant” ideas, which everyone pushes back on, then the idea is implemented anyway, then the idea fails in truly spectacular fashion, and then we go back to what we were doing before, having wasted time and money and customer goodwill in the process. But this most recent one really takes the cake.

As anyone who has followed me for a while knows, I work in an Italian restaurant. And while it’s not fine dining, it’s definitely on the higher end of things; a solid 7.5 out of 10 on the fanciness scale. We pride ourselves on being as authentically Italian as we can manage, and go for more Italian-Italian than Italian-American. At lunch, we have panini on our menu, which are served with a cup of soup or a little salad. But the big guy has a “brilliant” idea for what should be served with them instead:

French fries.

The pushback from the staff, especially our KM and our sous, has been even stronger than normal. In the first place, unless you’re planning on using frozen fries, prepping fresh housemade fries will add another 30-40 hour per week guy to the kitchen payroll, in a time when we are already grossly understaffed in the back most shifts. Secondly, french fries, especially the fresh ones, go cold very, very quickly. You’d need to fire each side to-order, and when you’ve got a dozen panini that are going to be going out at different times, that’s just not feasible from a logistical standpoint.

My biggest objection, though, is from a brand integrity standpoint. Again, we are more upscale. We do not have ketchup or ranch dressing anywhere on our menu or in our restaurant. But if we have fries, then we will need to start carrying both of those things. And while the owner keeps insisting that the fries would be “just a lunch thing”, you and I both know that such a policy would only last for about a week before they were available at dinner; all it would take would be one of our owner’s mooch buddies complaining that he can’t get fries with his steak, and then they’d be on the dinner menu. And once you’ve got them on the dinner menu, it’s only a stone’s throw to, “I’ll have the ravioli, and my son will have the chicken fingers and fries dinner”.

This restaurant has survived as long as it has because we have made it a point to not be Olive Garden or Macaroni Grill or Carrabba’s. But the owner keeps trying to do his level best to turn us into those places. And the resentment among the staff, front and back of house, and even among some of the management, keeps growing. Our sous has stated, flat-out, point-blank, that the second that fries hit the menu, he hits the bricks. And I am of a similar mind. This might finally be the straw that breaks the camel’s back for me on this place.