Gene Earl discovered her vocation when she visited the city’s best gourmet restaurant with her father. It was an extraordinary occasion for many reasons. For one, it was her 13th birthday, and it was also the occasion when she witnessed an extraordinary kindness, a gesture that she would remember her whole life. Gene never imagined there would come a moment when she’d be in a position to pay back that kindness, but 20 years later, the moment came. Jean’s dream was to be a chef, a great chef.
So when she was 20, she traveled to France to learn to cook in a country that has the most famous cuisine in the world. After 12 years, she was among the best, and that was when she returned to the States. Jean took a job in a New York restaurant, a top one where her reputation quickly grew as one of the foodie City’s most inventive and skilled chefs. But her dream was to go back home to DC. Her father was getting old, and she wanted to be near him.
So after nibbling on the Big Apple for eight years, Gene accepted an offer from one of Washington’s top restaurateurs. He offered Gene a fabulous salary, 30% ownership of the restaurant, and complete creative freedom. And on top of it all, attached to the contract was a project that would give Gene her own TV show, a national celebrity. It was everything she’d ever dreamed about. Gene flew to DC and told her father all about it.
“I’ll be here for you, Dad,” Gene exclaimed, “just like you were here for me.” Bob Earl kissed his daughter’s hands with tears in his eyes. “I’m proud of you, baby girl,” he said. “After all we went through, who’d have believed you’d be the best chef in the world?” “I don’t want to be the best chef in the world, Dad,” she said.
“Only in Washington DC.” The next day, Gene set out for the meeting at which she’d be signing the contract that would fulfill her every dream. The Uber dropped her off at the venue for the new restaurant, but as she got out of the car, she caught a glimpse of a green onyx. “I know that place at the corner,” the driver said. “It used to be the best restaurant in town.
Senators and presidents ate there. But a few years ago, the owner died, and it’s been downhill since then.” Gene thanked the driver, but instead of going to her meeting, she crossed the street towards the old restaurant with a shabby green awning printed with a word: Farginetti’s. She pushed open the door, and the memories came flooding back. Jean’s mom died when she was just 11, and her father had struggled to keep the family afloat.
Bob had fallen into a depression. He lost his job as a copy editor and was forced to freelance. Money was very short, and sometimes dinner was tin ravioli or alphabet soup. It was then that Gene started to experiment with her mom’s spices to add flavor to their meager meals. When Gene turned 13, Bob had made a reservation at Farginetti’s, the capital’s best and most fashionable restaurant.
Gene was delighted. She was well aware that her father had been saving for months for this treat. Father and daughter sat down at their table, and Jean read the menu excitedly. “I don’t know what a pic she cried. What are you having, Daddy?
Bob shook his head. “I’m not hungry, baby girl. I had a huge breakfast,” he said. “This is all for you.” When the waiter arrived to take their order, Jean said, “I want the Tournedos Rossini and the lobster bisque.
“Very good choice, ma’am,” said the waiter solemnly. Then he turned to Bob. “And for you, sir?” “Oh, Gene cried. Daddy was so silly.
He’s been saving to come here for lunch for months now, and he spoiled his appetite with breakfast.” The waiter threw Bob a quick look and saw the man blush. He immediately recognized what was going on. Bob had enough for Jean’s lunch but not his own. The waiter, his name was Carl Bader, went to Mr.
Farginetti. “Excuse me, sir,” he said. “There’s this little girl and her father. He’s been saving to bring her here for a birthday for months, but he can’t afford to order anything for himself. Would it be okay with you if I paid for their lunch out of next week’s salary?
Mr. Farginetti shook his head. “No, that’s out of the question, Carl. Lunch will be on the house. Go to the chef and tell him I want them to have what he served the president last week, and to take a birthday cake.
Gene and Bob had sat and waited nervously for over an hour and were stunned when not just one but five waiters paraded in with a series of gourmet dishes and set them before the father and daughter. “Lunches on the house, with Mr. Farginetti’s compliments,” Carl said, winking at Gene. Enjoy!” For Bob and Gene, it was a magical meal, and it ended on a high note when the chef himself brought in a wonderful cake ablaze with candles.
Father and daughter were on cloud nine when they walked out. “James said Bob happily, “I have a feeling our luck has changed.” And it did. The next day, one of Bob’s old friends called and offered him a job at a new magazine he was starting up, and Jean believed Farginetti’s had made it all happen. That was when she decided to become a chef.
Twenty years later, the old restaurant was looking shabby, but Jean recognized the waiter immediately. “Carl!” she exclaimed. “Carl Bader!” The man looked surprised.
“Yes, ma’am?” he said. “How may I help you?” “Twenty years ago, I came here for my 13th birthday,” Gene explained. “You spoke to Mr.
Farginetti, and he gave us a wonderful lunch on the house. I’m so glad to have an opportunity to thank you.” Carl smiled. “Yes, I remember you,” he said. “Sadly, we’re no longer as popular as we were, you see.
Mr. Farginetti passed away five years ago, and he left me the restaurant. He made me promise I’d keep it going, and I’ve tried, but it hasn’t been easy. Our chef left. He went back to France, and the replacement I hired was a disaster.
Right now, I’m the manager, waiter, and cleaner. I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep the doors open much longer.” Gene was staring at Carl and had a brilliant idea taking shape in her mind. “I’m a chef,” she blurted out. “I’ll turn Farginetti’s around.
Let’s do it for Mr. Farginetti.” Carl’s mouth hung open. “You’re a chef, really?” “Yes,” Jean said.
“I’m Gene Earl. What’s your famous dish, Carl?” “I can’t afford you,” Carl said. “I don’t need your money,” Jean said. “I have a lot of money on my own, and I’m gonna help you.
Gene turned down the lucrative contract she’d been offered and went to work at Farginetti’s. Within a year, the old restaurant was booked solid with waiting lists of celebrity customers. One day, Carl came to Gene with an envelope in his hands. “Gene,” he said, “I promised Mr. Farginetti I’d never sell, but I never promised him I wouldn’t give the restaurant away.
Carl handed Gene a document that gave her 50% ownership of Farginetti’s, the restaurant that had changed her life and was now her future.
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