Life, on the Line (56 page)

I read it and called him up. “I was thinking that we not only do a cuisine like ‘French' but that we get really specific. Paris, the Loire Valley, Burgundy—they all have different cuisines. And then I thought, just like the Escoffier course at Alinea, we put a time on it. Paris, 1925.” Once I said that, I knew we had it. Everyone would immediately understand what we were doing there. It is one thing to say we are serving French food this season. It is another to say Rome, 1948 when you're inevitably asked, “What kind of food is it?” Nick loved the idea.

“And this time, Chef, we're doing the ticket thing. I'm telling you, it'll be revolutionary because we can price it so low at off-peak times.”

“But what do we call the place? It should be about travel or places or maps, right?”

“What do you mean? The name is in the e-mail I sent you,” he said. So I looked again and saw “Next.” I had thought it was just a placeholder, as in, “Our next restaurant will be . . .,” and at first I didn't like it. But it did answer the question of the changing menu and constant exploration. It was about what's next. I told Nick that I got it but that we could find something better. He said, “No. It's not really just about that.”

He was right.

For a long time I had worried about what was coming next. Then for a short time that felt very long, I didn't think I had a future.

Now every time I was asked, “What's Next?” I could finally enjoy coming up with the answer.

Not a bad reminder.