1.20.25 | A Match Made in Restaurants

I remember the first time I laid eyes on my wife.

Back in 2010 I was asked to go to Maryland to open a restaurant as the executive chef. The owners wanted to open two businesses in St. Michael's, a restaurant on one side of the street and a bakery on the opposite side. The bakery would open up after the restaurant was established and provide fresh baked bread for the restaurant as well as operating as a fully functioning restaurant and bakery itself.

One day, as the bakery was starting to get deliveries, the general manager over both businesses came into the kitchen and asked if I could spare some men to help the women over at the bakery lug some 50-pound sacks of flour around. So, trying to be chivalrous (and also meet said ladies) I obliged, as did all the line cooks. What we found when we went across the street is that the women didn't need our help whatsoever. One woman was set with her back against a low table piled high with 50-pound flour sacks, pushing with her legs and moving the flour all on her own. She was an impressive sight, to say the least. When we finished watching her do all the work, I went over to introduce myself. She was wearing a Led Zeppelin shirt and had a razor knife sticking out of her pocket. Tough, listens to good music, knows how to bake. She said her name was Becca.

I was in with both feet and well over my head.

I invited Becca over to a house party for a few beers. She showed up drinking Samuel Smiths; I was drinking PBR. I knew I had my work cut out for myself. One little issue: we were not allowed to date. Two star crossed lovers. Since the bakery and the restaurant were owned by the same company, there was a strict no inter-business canoodling rule. But as it turns out, the heart wants what it wants. We set the rules out with the recycling.

While still trying to keep our tryst a secret, I wanted to ask Becca out on an official date. Something better than PBRs in the kitchen. It turns out that the next town over had a brand new Peruvian restaurant opening. I thought that would be far enough away from the prying eyes of The Man. The name of the restaurant was El Dorado. Which in hindsight seems apropos, since we did indeed strike gold....gold tequila that is.

So I popped the question, she said yes, and we were off on our very first date. Being a top secret affair only made it that much more exciting. And as soon as we walked through the front doors, who did we come face to face with? Our general manager and his wife. The cat was out of the bag almost instantly. We said hello, blushed, and headed to a table in the corner.

Next thing I know, before we even ordered, two wine glasses filled with a golden liquid came to the table. I took a sip—it wasn't wine, it was tequila. Our boss and his wife had sent us over shots, and the restaurant, being brand new, didn't own shot glasses. They improvised with wine glasses and filled them like wine glasses. I don't remember much else from that night, but as they say, the rest was history.

Soon enough our relationship was made public. We moved in with each other and moved on to bigger and better careers. Becca ran the baking and breakfast program at a little inn and I ran the kitchen for evening service. I would come in and eat leftover fresh challah and poached eggs and she would help me butcher hogs and devein foie gras. We were a match made in restaurants.

Soon enough we were ready to make another big step in our lives and our relationship. We shipped off to the rolling hills of Lexington, Red Hen way. We fell in love, and not just with each other, but with Lexington as well. We bought a house, got a dog, got hitched, and dug in to stay.

We’ve just hit our 10 year anniversary. I am not sure what the classic 10 year anniversary gift is. Maybe tequila…

—Chef Matt