Bellini’s finally happened. I talked myself out of last week, for whatever reasons. I planned to do it today and started talking myself out of it earlier, and said, “No, this is just depression rearing its ugly head again,” and made myself go.
(For the uninitiated, Bellini’s is my favourite restaurant. It’s a little Italian deli, opened decades ago by Mr. Bellini, who had retired from running a deli in New York and moved to Florida. His wife was an English and Latin teacher at my high school, so he got bored being the only one home all day, so he opened a deli down here. I’ve been going to Bellini’s for approximately 35 years.)
I walked in and felt something was different. The decor was slightly different, there were small differences here and there. Shelves with bottles of pickled veggies and sauces weren’t there. But… it was more than that. Something felt… off.
I glanced over behind the counter, expecting to see Scott, the owner, working with his employees, making food… but he wasn’t there. Kinda odd for an early afternoon Saturday, but not unheard of. I walked back to the dining area, saw a server I know, and she seemed… not upset, but not her usual self. She greeted me with a, “hey, baby,” like she always does (and she’s a cutie, but as much as I’d like to think that means anything, I know it doesn’t), but there was a distraction in her demeanor. (Now, at the time, I didn’t think anything of it. Service help can’t always be 100% bastions of sunshine and joy, real life can dampen that.)
I sat at (one of) my usual table(s), and she came over, asking if I needed a menu. I told her I didn’t, and she repeated my usual to me (pretty good, considering I’d not been there in a few months, and only a couple times in 2017… but she’s worked there six years now), which I confirmed. She seemed a bit more her usual self then.
Food came, it was delicious as usual, but I wondered if it tasted a little different. Still great, but yes, it did. Maybe they were using different bread, maybe a different provider of veggies or meat or cheese? Wasn’t sure. Still, it was great, and I enjoyed every toasty bite of my Italian hero, all the way, hot.
When she (I really should learn her name) brought over my check, she asked if I had heard Scott had sold the place. I hadn’t, and voice my surprise. Health issues and long hours and such led him to do so, and the new owners took over last week. (Remember, two weeks ago, I went and they were unexpectedly closed? I bet that had something to do with that.) She asked if I enjoyed the sub, I said I had, and she remarked they hadn’t changed anything in the menu… and appended with with a “yet.”
I said that I hoped they didn’t, and she agreed. We talked a little bit more (they weren’t busy, so I wasn’t keeping her from any waiting customers), I gave her her tip and went to pay my bill.
So… we’ll see. When new owners bought Bellybusters years ago (2008ish?), they signed a contract agreeing they had to keep certain items, the specialty items Bellybusters was known for, on the menu… but they changed things. Went from fresh ground beef on the burgers to chopping up frozen patties. And it made a big difference.
So much so, more new owners ended up buying it from them, changing things back to the way they were, and getting back all the customers the first changes had driven away (myself included.)
I don’t know if there was any contractual (or otherwise) agreement along those lines here. We’ll see what changes they’ll affect as time goes on.
Regardless, it’s not the same without Scott there. When I first went, I was 12 years old, volunteering at the public library/playing D&D (and other RPGs) in the basement, and one of the other volunteers/players suggested we grab it for lunch. Back then, Scott and his wife (the daughter of Mr and Mrs Bellini) were still living in New York, attending college, but they would come down for the summer and on holidays and work… and I remember him being a skinny, tall early 20something.
As time went by, we both got older, less skinny, and got on a first name basis. No matter how long between visits, I could always expect to walk in and hear a friendly, hearty, “Hey, Terry,” from Scott. For the past six years or so, when he was off (usually evenings), his son-in-law, Paul, was working and would greet me in lieu of Scott.
Certainly, it’s not exactly what the song was about, but I think “Where everybody knows your name” said it best:
Where everybody knows your name
And they’re always glad you came
This is really the best blog ever. 