I learned how to make it. I just never intended to make an entire empire out of it.
Mom, though, she knew before I realized what was happening. She made sure I got some help before I fucking collapsed.
I owe that woman everything. But it doesn't mean she should call me at 7:00 AM.
"Look, I haven't even had a cup of coffee. We're not going to Arizona for my birthday and we couldn't go to Perfect Pair together even if we wanted to, which is a bummer. Because I would have loved to be your date.”
She laughs. "True, sometimes I don't know when you're joking and when you're being serious."
"I'm being dead serious, Mother. I would love to go to a romantic dinner with you in LA."
"True, that's why I love you. You are the best son."
"I'm your only son, your only child, actually. If you want to come visit me here, that would be great. And honestly, if you want me to come see you in Colorado for my birthday, I'll make it happen. I love you, Mom."
I could practically hear her beaming. "Oh, True, you mean it?"
"I don't want to let you down."
"You really should go to Perfect Pair,” she says. “If you won't go to Arizona to find a single lady, maybe you should go to LA and just eat with a friend if not your mother."
"That's not how that restaurant works."
"No? How does it work?"
"It's a whole thing, Mom. Didn’t you read the articles? You have to make a reservation, but in order to get a table, you have to pass an interview to prove that you and your date are compatible. The food is prepared with true compatibility in mind and the ambience requires complete and utter tranquility."
"Do you believe that?" Mom asks. "Do you believe that food pairings and mood are simpatico?"
I laugh, pouring my coffee. "I don't know. I mean, it is a little woo-woo, right?"
"I don't know," Mom says. "It could be real. The whole restaurant could be very lovely, I suppose. Maybe your father and I should go."
I chuckle. "Sure, Mom." I try to go easy on her, but it's hard. My dad would never set foot at that restaurant. He prefers trout fishing and foraging for mushrooms, grilling out on the deck. He's not going to go to a Michelin restaurant that requires a pre-dining interview. No way.
"You're probably right. That was ridiculous of me to suggest. Well, anyways, we have reservations at the club this weekend."
I chuckle. "I'm not sure I could get a table anyhow."
"Maybe not," Mom says. "Sounds like you have to have a perfect pair in order to go."
"That's true," I say, running my hand over my jaw, "but damn, I really want to try the food. I want to experience this perfect pairing. I mean, does the perfect pairing really give you a better dining experience?"
Mom laughs. "Oh, True, I haven't heard you this excited in three years. When's the last time you've even considered food pairings?"
"Mom, don't get any ideas in your head. You sound a little too excited yourself."
"Well, it's only 7:15 and listen to you, dear."
"Mom, it must be the coffee kicking in. It's a new blend."
"Did you order it or did you go to the actual grocery store to get it?"
"I ordered it. I don't go to the store for anything, you know that."
"I worry about you, True. I think you need to get out more. If not Arizona, somewhere. Surely you can find a date."
"In the woods?" I ask, looking out my kitchen window. There’s not a single soul, a single car, a single house as far as the eye can see. "I'm not sure that's going to happen out here."
"Well," Mom says, "maybe you need a change of scenery, Truett."
"I told you, I'm going to come visit you for my birthday."
"I know, but maybe you shouldn't wait a month. Maybe you should find a date and go to this restaurant."
"You think so?"
"I'm usually right about these things, sweetheart. I think you need to go get a meal at a restaurant. I think you need an excuse to put on a nice outfit and go sit down and have some wine poured for you."
"Mom, I think you're pushing it."
She laughs. "Oh, you're probably right, True. You know best."
"Right," I say, doubting my own words. Love you."
"Love you too, True."
I end the call and I pour another cup of coffee. Reaching for my iPad, I pull up the morning news, flipping to the food and wine tab for the LA Times.
Of course, one of the articles is on Perfect Pair, another glowing, mouth-watering review.
I swear, every damn day there's a new one.
Boasting the delectable meals that this restaurant serves, and all of it sounds really fucking good.
Not to mention, the pairings truly do sound perfect. My stomach growls.