Kevin and I eat at Sarello’s every time I visit Fargo. It’s a four star restaurant in a two star town. Two star trying to grow into something more stellar. I can’t remember the number of times we’ve been to Sarello’s, but they have been enough that the owner, Tony, welcomes me with true open arms and wants to make sure I’m well served. I always am.
As for Kevin, he visits Sarello’s three, maybe four, times a week. He’s treated like family rather than the occasional guest. He and Tony speak Italian together; he gets the best table, a larger than usual serving of wine, the option of substituting mashed potatoes for coconut jasmine rice. At meal’s end, Tony comes round to share a shot of Sambucca with Kevin and me. It’s on the house.
I’ve eaten in hundreds of restaurants, some good and some not-so-good. But I’ve never developed the relationship with a restaurant than Kevin has with Sarello’s.. I think that’s part of the charm of my annual visit. It’s like visiting relatives one sees only at family reunions. Relatives you’d like to know better but, because of time or distance, you don’t have proximity working with you. Yet, I have Kevin working on it for my annual visit.
In its own right, the salmon was great tonight too. It was cooked to perfection, not too rare but not too dry. Accompanied by mashed potatoes that were the melt-in-your-mouth variety. Steve the waiter served our dishes graciously, as he did the salad and rolls before them. And the coffee after. It was the best of service, guaranteed to garnish an A+ tip.
I acquiesced to the bill with no complaint. We gathered our coats and hats and found the restrooms. As we left the restaurant — me, for another year; Kevin, for a few days — I felt the sense of deep friendship between my son and Sarello’s owner was the best nourishment of all.
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