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. Service work is thankless and stressful. Working at Che Fico Alimentari was no exception. What set Alimentari apart — what kept us coming back — was the team we were a part of.
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 everything else. When a cook called out, two cooks could do the work of three and the dining room could navigate 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. We all wanted 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 hanging out. When we were busy, we would laugh about it.
Alimentari became a tough place to be the new guy. We all knew each other so well. But this barrier to entry 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?
No matter how beloved the restaurant or how tight the staff has become, someone’s gotta pay the bills. If I had to guess, we were either too small or too slow to keep the lights on. San Francisco punishes restaurants like ours.
Many of Alimentari’s signature dishes live on at other Che Fico properties. The amatriciana has been turned into a pizza, the chopped salad is served at the Chase Center, and the mortadella is available at their grocery store. When something like this happens, the only thing that is truly lost is the team. I feel so fortunate to have experienced a team like ours — to know what that felt like. Wherever I end up, I intend to work with a group that makes me feel the way our team made me feel. Someone always had my back. Because they had to.