These days, it’s nothing new to go into a restaurant and order fine dining-quality food sourced directly from local farms and served in a stylish-but-casual atmosphere. But it wasn’t that long ago that the phrase “farm-to-table” had yet to be uttered – let alone overused. Menus weren’t covered with farm references, and the majority of restaurants were either white tablecloth fine dining destinations or strictly casual.
It was a fluke. Six degrees of separation, really: my college boyfriend’s soccer coach’s wife’s niece was dating a really nice guy who was a chef, and he had made them a delicious Greek salad for dinner one night. I was in school at the CIA, looking for an externship. They suggested I call him, since he had just opened his own restaurant and might want the extra help. I thought it couldn’t hurt to talk to the guy; he had worked at Erwin, one of my favorite restaurants, and if nothing else he could help me get an interview there.
