Doors Wide Open

The warm weather is a game-changer.

Walk into a popular restaurant on a 75-degree December day and the silence will be deafening.

It was so quiet, so empty, that I stepped back outside to make sure they hadn't ceased Monday hours.

Nope. Open every day.

Back in I went, only to be greeted this time by a smiling face from the kitchen.

And then shortly thereafter, an affable server.

Turns out that they were only too happy to welcome me in on an unusually dead afternoon.

We agreed that any place with a patio was doing record business this Monday.

But Secco has no patio.

What they do have is two doors, front and side, so I immediately started a campaign to have them both opened.

The only downside was that the staff then realized what an exquisite day they were missing.

Given the unseasonable warmth, I decided to go with a rose from the chalkboard's secret stash.

The kitchen staff, with no one to cook for, was eager to have something to do.

I heard tell of a sandwich they were thinking of adding to the menu and volunteered to be a guinea pig for it.

The grilled sandwich of house-cooked pastrami, house-made sauerkraut, Swiss and whole grain mustard came on a Billy bread, although once it makes it on to the menu, it'll be on Sub Rosa's rye bread.

Even without the benefit of caraway, the sandwich was stellar - crispy bread filled with perfect pastrami, bits of fat still clinging to the meat, and and the ooze of kraut and cheese.

With no other customers to talk to, the staff was at my mercy for mealtime conversation.

Willingly (no doubt boredom) they obliged.

I got music talk, bread talk (it's everywhere these days), restaurant talk and (surprise) wine talk.

My sandwich came with a nicely dressed mixed green salad, an ideal way to mitigate the pastrami's heft.

And outside the open door, Caytown buzzed by.

A woman in work clothes and athletic shoes getting in some sunny exercise.

A couple with matching nose rings walking hand in hand.

Two moms with young 'uns soliciting donations for their children's school.

And yet not a one of them came in.

The loss was theirs.

The rose was drinking like a red, the sandwich was beautifully executed and the music (XX, Arcade Fire) was cranked just high enough to wash over me and float out the door.

Much as I loved being the star (read: only) customer in a restaurant, I eventually played lemming and followed everyone else out into the day.

But way better fed than they were.