A hospitality experience that changed my life.

The Power of Being Remembered.

by Molly Miller

“People will forget what you said, forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” – Maya Angelou

I was twenty years old and had just moved from the small town to the “big city” of Dallas, TX and started my very first job in hospitality development. Drinking from a fire hose is certainly a great illustration for that time in my life as I was immediately put in charge of the development of two restaurants in another state and was simultaneously learning the ropes of everything having to do with building restaurants - from ordering leather to discovering and understanding what a banquette was. All of it was an absolute whirl-wind. 

While immersing myself in this industry, I was fascinated with New York City. Mesmerized by its hustle-and-bustle, I dreamt of living there. I had several cousins who lived in a small two-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn with seven guys… In other words, I had free place to stay? Yes, I would travel to NYC by myself and stay in this tiny apartment and hope that several of the guys were out of town so I could have a free sofa to sleep on after I spent every day exploring the city. 

But where to begin? My dad had grown up on Long Island, but that wasn’t much help. I was eager to learn and take in all I could. Every day at work it seemed like restaurants were being mentioned - all of them being rooted in this amazing city. I remember reaching out to my boss at the time - an incredible mentor - and then to several chefs within the company. ”Send me all of your favorite restaurants in NYC,” I said. What I got back was a list that has continued for years and has grown and adapted and been shared numerous times. 

On that list, was a restaurant that my boss had provided and made note of it being his very favorite. That restaurant: Il Buco Alimentari.

I still remember those early trips to NYC - it’s nerve racking when you first begin traveling alone - but the hardest part is stepping out of the door. Once you are on the streets of the city there is truly too much to pay attention to to pay any mind to worries of being alone or where will I go next - and plus, I had my list. Well, I had my list and a small black moleskin notebook and pen. Everywhere I went I made sure to have that notebook and pen - and everywhere I went I would sit alone and journal what I noticed, who I saw, what I ordered, the overall floor plan, the design of the space and the furniture and funny stories and encounters I may have had. Funny side note: I highly recommend this strategy as I cannot tell you how many times this led to free food or squirmy bartenders telling me the staff was nervous about what I was writing. Could it be that this 20 year old was a food critic? I know, I know, far fetched, but it’s true. And it worked time and time again. 

So it was on a day just like this. I had emerged from the threshold of the free sofa living situation and made my way to Manhattan for breakfast. And on this day I would be crossing the doorstep into the unrivaled Il Buco Alimentari. I turned left on Lafayette (I’m sure after walking many a mile) and made my way down Great Jones St. And then, there it was. Honestly, I could have missed it as this was spring and the winter awnings and enclosure weren’t installed. I walked in and immediately fell in love - I mean who wouldn’t? The woman behind the bakery counter knew everyone stopping by for their morning orders and greeted them by name, asking about their families. The coffee counter was filled with men in suits having their cappuccinos and everything smelled perfectly of fresh made bread. The atmosphere was something out of a storybook. It felt like a place that had lived - mismatched tiles and warm hues and finishes, the large light fixtures hanging over the back dining room - the warmth resonated through every aspect of the space. 

And then, there I was - standing in front of a guy behind the host’s desk - he was asking me where I wanted to sit and I’m sure I was looking everywhere but in his direction - I heard his question and stared back at him: “can I sit outside?” He laughed, there was no one outside but of course I could sit outside - there were small cafe tables ready for me. So I followed him out there and I ordered an iced coffee and avocado toast. Don’t come for me Gen Z - this, my friends, was before avocado toast was a “thing.” But also, I mean, come on! Of course it’s a thing! And when that avocado toast comes with a perfectly cooked poached egg and anchovies - say no more!

Alright, I will continue. 

My visit was brief. But this trip to Il Buco was the first of many for me. Not on this trip, no. I had plenty of other places to see. But as the years went by, I would visit the city two to three times a year and every time, I tried to make it to my restaurant - always sitting outside. Whether it was chilling winter or scalding summer, that was my spot. I would order my iced coffee but often changed the entree. I still remember, it was probably the fifth time there, I walked through the door to the same atmosphere I had come to love and there he was again. The same host had been there often but I didn’t think anything of it. He always treated me warmly, and yet for some reason I had never thought to introduce myself. And yet this time I walked in, I looked at him, and before I could say “may I sit outs…” - he looked at me and said, “Iced coffee and outside girl, you’re back!” 

It’s difficult to put into words the feeling of being seen and, for that matter, the feeling of being remembered. Though the event may be minute and the circumstances relatively underwhelming, this moment defined hospitality for me. It was not just me he remembered. I began to realize how he greeted every customer - just as the woman I had observed behind the bread counter that very first visit, he knew every local customer by name. Hospitality, as an industry, has often gotten lost on its path, dwindled down to values of money and table turns. And yet, this man got it - he knew that hospitality, at its core, is about valuing humans and creating spaces and atmospheres with quality ingredients that set the stage for moments and enjoyment of all different kinds. Humans crave hospitality in our bones. We crave the opportunity to sit in a welcoming space and feel seen and cared for, reminded of our own value and the value of those that prepare these moments. It is often subliminal, and yet it is deep and I believe it runs through us all. 

So it was him, he redefined hospitality for me. That moment introduced me to the amazing opportunity we have in this industry to create not just beautiful spaces but to bring together thoughtfully tenacious and caring individuals who seek to serve. Those people exist. They deserve to be highly valued and they deserve to be seen and taken note of. 

I will end this story by sharing that it did not end there. Through many more visits I came to find out that this man was from my hometown. But then life moved on quickly - I was moving swiftly through this career in hospitality development and getting the unbelievable opportunity to work on projects all throughout the country - I found myself traveling less into the city and when I was there I seldom had the opportunity to make it to Jones St. And yet, one day, several years later, I walked into one of my very favorite hotels, The Marlton, and who should be behind the counter but him. It was not but a moment until we looked at each other and he said “iced coffee and a seat outside girl?” This, my friends, is a talent. This is a gift worth noting. This is what I hope and crave I can create and help create in every development. These are the types of people that make a space skyrocket from just another beautifully designed atmosphere with unbelievable food to a space humming with true hospitality.