that time I ate at Charlie Trotter's

Ahoy,

I've just seen the news that Charlie Trotter has passed away. Although, it's really not like I knew the guy, and I don't even remember meeting him. His passing does bring to mind what I do know of the man and his restaurant. Charlie Trotter's is a common name on the Chicago, and even worldwide, fancy restaurant scene. I didn't know it at the time, I had no clue. It was one of the best restaurants in the world and I had the opportunity to dine there as a high schooler. A meal here typically cost in the hundreds of dollars. For some reason, I along with other peers got a free meal in high school for some reward for leadership or community service or something.

I really didn't know what I was in for. I figured, free meal - sign me up! (This mantra would guide my decisions for many years to come.) I knew nothing of the reputation of Charlie Trotter. I knew nothing of the culinary world outside my own house nor the proper mores associated with fine dining. I even showed up late. And the RRS will attest to my dining barbarism because it was years later on our first formal date where it was just the two of us (and not also all my high school friends) he was appalled to find that I didn't put my napkin on my lap.

I really don't remember much of my meal at Charlie Trotter's. Thinking back, I should have made more measures to do so. I do remember that my bread plate was never empty. Whenever I finished a roll, someone would swoop by unnoticed and place a new one. I do remember there were many dishes and each dish was only a few bites. What kind of meal is this?, I wondered. But the food, I don't remember what we ate, was all delicious. And someone would come out to tell us what we were eating, all of it foreign to me. We sat in a private room, I think. The restaurant was closed that night and we were the only guests, a ragtag group of high schoolers and their club sponsor. I do remember we got a tour of the wine cellar, and I do remember not being interested because I knew nothing of wine or its many forms of seduction. I do remember being incredibly, incredibly full. And I'm pretty sure Charlie Trotter, the chef royalty himself, came out to greet us and give us the tour. I do remember he seemed like a nice fellow, no airs about him.

Thinking back, I'm amazed and grateful to have had the opportunity. So many others save for months to dine here and we even had the restaurant to ourselves. So many others covet their time at his table, and at the time my meal here was not nearly as well appreciated as anyone else. It was dinner and just like any other night I needed to eat and do more homework. I regarded it as simply any other meal, and only in my adulthood could I truly appreciate where my taste buds had been. It was only years later when I had begun to acquaint myself with the world of James Beard and Michelin that I even remembered that I ever ate at Charlie Trotter's.

I can make no excuses for the immaturity of my high school self. My current self, however, apologizes on her behalf. When I later saw that Charlie Trotter had closed his restaurant, I knew that my meal there was once in a lifetime. I remain forever grateful that I not only got to dine at his restaurant, but also got to meet the man. I wasn't worthy.

tastefully spooned,
jt