Friday October 15th 2004 – Dinner at Paolo’s

Friday October 15th 2004 – Dinner at Paolo’s

When Willy Brown was da mayor of San Francisco he made the observation that Paolo’s was the one place he cared to dine when visiting the South Bay—those weren’t his words, but I think I got his intent, minus the “The City” snobbery his words must have implied. By South Bay, I mean San Jose, fifty miles south of San Francisco but worlds apart. But Paolo’s you can say is the place that brings the two worlds closer.

My wife and I had dinner there tonight. Our usual waiter, “R” wasn’t there. He was in Iran getting married, to a lovely young woman. He has been about to marry her for at least a year now. “R” is Iranian and quite mysterious as we’ve only come to know about him in snatches of conversation on slow nights at the restaurant. We usually go on a Friday evening just after the crowd dining in advance of the start of a performance at the San Jose Center for the Performing Arts is hurrying out before the curtain rises.

“R” is a character that knows how to read people very well. He loves to kid with a couple or four-some at one table while engaging a neighboring table in the fun. He radiates a puckish demeanor that creates just the right amount of tension that he breaks with a funny gesture or remark that elicits a laugh. He’s a physical person that shakes your hand, looks you in the eye, and asks how you’ve been since the last time. He has the flattering charm that makes women feel special when he’s catering to them.

He had been absent for several months a year or so back and we had the impression that he was on some kind of extended sabbatical. One evening we entered the restaurant and there he was charming as usual. “Where have you been,” we ask. “Iran,” he replied. We were surprised knowing that he had once said he could never return. It was a slow evening. We were looking for a half bottle of a wonderful Barolo but the restaurant didn’t have any more in stock. He offered a full bottle of Chianti he thought we’d like and I agreed if he would help us drink it. Since it was a slow night he bought three glasses and in between the one or two other tables he was serving he sipped wine and told us a story of having left Iran with little hope of returning. He still has family there and longed to return. Several months back, he was given some assurances that if he returned he would be welcome. As soon as he arrived he was detained. He was unclear about what happened during his detention but his personal skills that served him well as Paolo’s must have served him well in Iran. He was allowed to return to the U.S. and was free to come and go without further bother. Hence, the current trip to marry and return with his new bride.

Dinner without “R” was enjoyable as usual. The Maitre’d and Sommelier “J” greeted us warmly excused “R” for running off to get married, without any concern for his regular customers and gave us a nice window table. The restaurant in the 1980s was located on East Santa Clara Street at Twelfth Street in downtown San Jose, the heart (city center in Europe) of which Yahoo Map puts at one block north of St James Park on North Second Street. San Jose streets are labeled north when they cross Santa Clara Street. Below the streets are labeled south in this case South Second Street. Similarly, First Street is the demarcation point for labeling streets east and west. Thus Santa Clara Street is west on the left side of First Street Facing north and East on the right side.

In 1991, the restaurant moved to new digs at 333 West San Carlos Street on the San Jose River Park literally a stone's throw from the Guadalupe River. Where we were seated we could see a lighted stairway leading down to the paved bank of the river, which had a nasty habit of flooding regularly every decade or until it was broken of this behavior by the Corp of Engineers just before Paolo’s took up residence. The restaurant is on the ground floor of a multistory high-rise office complex that houses a brokerage firm, a big four or five (with the mergers who knows) accounting firms, and other offices. The building sits right under the flight path for San Jose Airport and you can stand outside the restaurant, near the bridge that crosses the Guadalupe River to the Center for the Performing Arts and watch, American, United, Southwest, and other flights make their final approach into SJC. My wife and I both like watch planes take off and land.

The two of us began visiting the restaurant when it was on East Santa Clara. I first came across the place with my boss, a rotund Italian fellow that reminded me of Jackie Gleason, who happened to have a first name the same as the restaurants. It was a business meal, my boss was a publisher trying to sell advertising space, I was an editor the customer wanted to get to know better, and it went on for hours. I loved the food and the place made me feel like I was welcome to stick around and enjoy myself. Whenever PR flaks asked me where to host an event, I would point them to Paolo’s. There are few real pleasures in life but a meal at Paolo’s is one that is still relatively easy to indulge in. Tonight I had the Osso Buco, a veal shank that was tender enough to cut with a fork and the bone marrow, which I always save for last was to die for. My wife “I” had the Halibut special, “good enough for Jehovah,” she exclaimed. We washed it down with glasses of Chianti and finished it off with a crepe dessert topped with mascarpone cheese drunk on Grappa.

Life is good.