First, let me start off by saying that I definitely wasn’t business drunk. Mostly because I wasn’t drunk at all. But I did sip on 2.5 glasses of wine during a business lunch recently. In my defense, it was a 3-hour lunch. And the partner who invited me most certainly had more glasses of wine. And never once did I question my soberness or professionalism or proper etiquette. But, still, 2.5 glasses in the middle of the workday is not insignificant.
Second, ohmygoodness Salumi is delicious and really really really knows how to impress its backroom guests. J has been many times for sandwiches at lunch. Together, we had been once before (hence these photos from last summer—even with my 2.5 glasses of vino, I didn’t have the courage to photograph the “business-drunk” lunch). I should warn you that the lunch would have been awful for a vegetarian or anyone on a low-sodium diet. There was meat in every. single. one. of the 6? 7? 8? courses. Except for the dessert course. But for at least 5 minutes I was under the impression that the chef told us the vanilla gelato and blackberries were sprinkled with pig salt. It turns out, the chef was saying pink salt. I suppose the sodium levels took over and I heard what I wanted to hear at that point.
Back to the meal. Sandwiches it was not. When you reserve the backroom, you eat what they serve and you fall a little bit in love with what you eat. We enjoyed antipasti, including several kinds of house-cured salami and prosciutto and olives. Then there was the prosciutto-wrapped chicken wing course. Surprisingly easy to eat, especially for someone like me who does not do chicken with bones unless forced. Is that weird? Moving on. We dabbled in sausage with onions and peppers (something I refused to touch 9 years ago when J and I were early in our relationship). Then there was the eggplant parmesan dish. AH-ma-ZING! Out of control, I tell you. Meaty—now that I think about it, perhaps this was the one meatless dish—but light and balanced. Next we had pasta. Wide house-cut pasta noodles with red sauce and bits of lamb. I don’t particularly like lamb, but I could have eaten that pasta for days. The piece-de-resistance was the enormous braised pork shoulder. It was phenomenal. But the tastiest part of the entire meal were the tiny button mushrooms gracing the edges of the pork shoulder. I have no idea what was going on with those mushrooms, but they were intensely delicious. The moment they popped into the mouth, it was clear these mushrooms were something special. My grandmother, who “hid” onions in my tuna sandwiches for years (you can’t hide that taste, first of all, and secondly, why did she take the extra time to dice the secret onions that I hated? I’ll never know), would have been proud of my affinity for those teensy delightful mushrooms.
So, it turns out that working as a private civil attorney has its perks, which this week came in the form of a much-appreciated salt coma on a Wednesday afternoon. I “bonded” with a couple of partners at my firm and got to know some really friendly client-folks. I was at the private table in the backroom that people who had spent upwards of 60 minutes in line to eat a sandwich (see above) kept peeking around the corner to see. We had the fancy food—instead of mere sandwiches as big as my face—with the many bottles of wine and we were having a great time schmoozing in our business suits at 2:30 pm in the middle of the week.
[The above communal table was not ours, though the private backroom isn’t much fancier than this. Which is part of the charm, really.]
Lest you think it was all fun and games, I billed nearly 8 hours on Wednesday, despite the 3.5 hours I was out the office for lunch (and no, the time at Salumi didn’t count). I put in the time at the office not because I’m worried about meeting my billables—luckily, my hard work and high standards have paid off so far in the form of more work from the partners—but rather because I have so much work to do and what feels like very little time to do it.
The good news is that I’m learning how to set boundaries. On Friday, I found the courage to ask a partner if it would be necessary for me to work on his project over the weekend. On weekends past, I simply did the work. This time, he kindly told me that it wouldn’t be necessary. So I’m giving myself a treat. No work this weekend. It makes me nervous because there is much to be done next week. But I am trying to convince myself to believe there is more to be gained from taking a break and refreshing my brain and energy for what’s to come on Monday.
For the record: Salumi deserves its good reputation. Not because it’s Mario Batali’s family’s place. Not because it’s fancy. It’s most certainly not. Just because it’s good. Really, really, reliably good.
