by MATT TILLQUIST
I’m not the type of person to proclaim that everyone should work in the service industry. In fact,
I would urge you to avoid it if you can.
Overall, the work is overwhelmingly thankless and consistently stressful.
Working at Che Fico Alimentari was no exception.
What set Alimentari apart, what kept me coming back, was the team I was a part of.
More often than not, the staff of a restaurant can tell you if it’s going to be a bad night before the doors open. Being down a cook or short on support staff can send a night into a doom spiral that can be difficult to recover from. Che Fico Alimentari was an anomaly in this regard.
Alimentari could only function if each person on the floor understood the responsibilities of
each other. We ran a lean operation that relied on few doing the work of many.
Servers bussed tables, hosts spieled guests, food runners did it all. If a cook called out,
two cooks could do the work of three and front of house would plan around longer fire times.
Our ability to step in for each other was only compounded by our eagerness to do so.
We shared an understanding that if something needed to be done it needed to happen now. Everything was urgent.
You took on the work of others because they would do the same for you.
All in an effort to keep the ship afloat.
None of this would have been possible if we didn’t get along the way we did. By the end,
our restaurant started to feel like a clubhouse.
When we weren’t busy, we were having fun.
When we were busy, we would laugh about it.
Alimentari became a tough place to be the new kid, a barrier to entry that ensured people stuck around for the right reasons. We had more responsibilities and made less money than our prettier older sister, Che Fico. The only reason to stay at Alimentari was because you fit in.
As I write this, Alimentari had its final service six days ago.
Our food was delicious.
Our wine list rocked.
Our service was exceptional.
We took pride in our work.
And our restaurant was failing.
Following the announcement of our closure, we experienced a two week barrage of regulars who couldn’t believe the news. How could things go wrong for a restaurant that seemed to be doing everything right?
It’s the cost of doing business in San Francisco. No matter how beloved the restaurant or how tight the staff has become, someone’s gotta pay the bills.
Our space was too small to keep the lights on and we had trimmed as much fat as possible.
If anything is lost from the closure of Che Fico Alimentari it is the team.
I feel so fortunate to have experienced a team like ours — to know what that feels like.
Wherever I end up, I intend to work with people who make me feel the way our team made me feel. Someone always had my back. Because they had to.