Chapter 25

On a Tuesday in early spring, eighteen months after taking over Trattoria Verde. Matthew stood by the pass-thru during lunch service, watching the now-seamless operation of the kitchen that he and Loralee had rebuilt. Every station functioned with practiced precision, each cook moving with confident purpose, the rhythm perfect and predictable. The restaurant had not only recovered but thrived beyond anyone’s expectations, becoming a neighborhood institution and critical darling simultaneously.

Matthew suddenly decided he was going to move on. His professional life was excellent, his reputation as a turnaround specialist was made with the success of Trattoria Verde.

But his personal life was trash.

He was burned out. All he had done since he was seventeen was work. He still lived in the one-room apartment over the Golden Dragon. What was worse, he had thought in the back of his mind, that he and Loralee had ... something. That hope had died when she and Sophia formed a relationship. His time growing up had prepared him for a lot of things, but interpersonal relations were not among them. He did what he always did when faced with disappointment. He froze it down deep.

He realized that he was 28 years old and had never been on a date. Loralee, for her part, had never indicated she had any feelings for him other than gratitude for his mentoring, but he still felt betrayed. That pissed him off because he knew it was wrong for him to feel that way.

In addition, Trattoria Verde no longer needed the intensive care and attention he had provided during its rehabilitation. The systems were established, the team developed, the culture was self-sustaining. What had been a rescue mission requiring his specific combination of skills had evolved into a healthy operation that could now flourish under different leadership.

“What’s bothering you,” Loralee said that night as they closed the restaurant together.

They were alone in the dining room, completing the final review of the day’s operations, a quiet moment that had become a valued ritual, space for honest conversation beyond the pressures of the day.

“It’s time for me to move on,” he said. “Trattoria Verde is in good shape. Our team is solid, the systems work, the culture sustains itself.”

“In other words, mission accomplished,” Loralee said flatly, “and now you’re just going to move on. Just up and leave us?”

She was shaking, blinking back tears.

“Yeah,” he said, thoughtfully. Unmindful of her reaction. “It’s time for a transition. For both of us.”

“What about the rest of us? What are we going to do?”

He looked surprised at her question and replied, “Why, you’ll take over, of course. You and Sophia make a great team. That’s what I’ll recommend to Archer. I think he’ll go along with it.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know yet,” Matthew said. “I think I’m going exploring. Take a ‘walk-about.’ You’ve been ready to lead this kitchen for months,” Your development here has been remarkable. The team respects you, the systems reflect your input as much as mine. The next evolution of Trattoria Verde should happen under your direction.”

Loralee, by now, had managed to mask her feelings.

They talked late into the night, mapping possibilities with the same attention they would give to planning a complex menu. By the time they locked the restaurant in the early hours of the morning, the outlines of a transition had taken shape. Loralee would assume executive chef responsibilities gradually over two months, with Matthew shifting to a consulting role before departing entirely. The change would be positioned to staff and guests as natural evolution rather than disruption. Their emphasis would be on continuity of vision alongside new leadership energy.

“You’ll need to talk with Daniel,” Loralee pointed out as they prepared to go their separate ways. “His investment in Trattoria Verde was partly based on you personally.”

Matthew nodded, knowing this conversation would require particular care. Archer had been a staunch supporter, providing both financial backing and operational autonomy. The proposed transition would test that relationship, revealing whether the restaurateur’s confidence extended to the team they had built together or remained centered on Matthew himself.

Daniel Archer’s reaction the following week was characteristic: pragmatic assessment balanced with genuine interest in Matthew’s development. They met at Archer’s office.

“I can’t claim surprise, I guess. Trattoria has wildly exceeded my expectation across all metrics,” Archer continued, consulting a tablet with the restaurant’s performance data. “My question becomes whether that success is sustainable under different leadership.”

“Loralee isn’t ‘different leadership,’” Matthew countered. “She’s been integral to everything we’ve built there. The systems, the culture, the menu development ... they all reflect her influence as much as mine. The transition would be an evolution, not a replacement.”

Archer considered this, his expression thoughtful. “Her technical skills are unquestionable, and her development as a leader has been impressive to observe. The partnership between you two has clearly been instrumental to Trattoria Verde’s renaissance.”

He paused, then added with characteristic directness: “But partnerships are complex. Your specific combination of strengths has produced particular results. Changing that equation introduces variables, however qualified the individual components might be.”

It was a reasonable concern from an investment perspective. Matthew acknowledged it while maintaining his conviction about Loralee’s readiness.

“We’ve been preparing for this transition without explicitly naming it,” he explained. “For the past six months, Loralee has been increasingly responsible for daily operations, menu development, and team leadership. My role has already shifted toward mentorship and troubleshooting rather than direct management. The results have remained consistent precisely because her capabilities have grown to match expanded responsibility.”

Only as their meeting concluded did Archer ask the question that revealed personal interest beyond business concerns: “And what’s next for you, Matthew? Another restaurant concept? Different city? New cuisine entirely?”

“Exploration,” he replied honestly, without mentioning his angst over Loralee. “I’m a bit burned out. I’m going to take a vacation. I need space to discover what my new direction is going to be.”

Archer nodded, understanding evident in his expression. “The culinary equivalent of an artist’s journey to find their style.

The transition unfolded over the following two months. Staff were informed through individual and small group conversations rather than dramatic announcement, emphasis on continuity and evolution rather than departure and replacement.

Throughout this period, Matthew maintained his engagement with the restaurant while simultaneously planning his next steps. He bought a Toyota Forerunner outright. Over the years, he had saved most of his earnings. When he started planning, he was surprised by how much money he had accumulated.

“No timeline, no specific destination,” he explained to Reynolds during a dinner together, away from either of their restaurants. “Just following curiosity and seeing what emerges.”

His mentor nodded approvingly. “I’m glad you’re doing this. Over the years, you’ve become far too one dimensional, an all work and no play boy. I have the same weakness. My work is everything. Now’s the time to let yourself break free of that.” He gave Matthew a look that made Matthew realize that he hadn’t been hiding his feelings for Loralee as well as he thought he had. “And maybe you’ll find time to get yourself into a relationship.”

The night before he left, Trattoria Verde hosted a small gathering after regular service. It wasn’t a formal farewell, but a moment of acknowledgment and appreciation. The team presented Matthew with a handcrafted knife roll containing a special blade commissioned from an artisan whose work he had long admired.

The next morning, Matthew loaded the last of his travel gear into the SUV, its cargo area organized with the same precise attention he had always brought to his kitchen’s ‘mise en place.’ The vehicle contained cooking equipment alongside camping gear, and reference books alongside road maps. His professional knives and practical tools he felt might prove useful in unfamiliar territory.

His departure from New York felt simultaneously momentous and ordinary. It was the end of a significant chapter, but the start of another story.

For the first week, he followed no particular route, slowly heading west and south with general intention rather than a specific itinerary. He stopped when something caught his interest: rural farm stands offering seasonal produce, small-town diners serving regional specialties. He was back in ‘learning mode.’ Each encounter became an opportunity for insights.

He maintained this leisurely pace through Pennsylvania, Ohio, Kentucky, and Tennessee. As he traveled he developed deeper appreciation for the diversity of American foodways outside of coastal metropolitan centers. The notes accumulating in his journal reflected the recipés and techniques he had come across. [editor’s note: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Foodways]

By the second month, Matthew had reached Texas. Its vast geography and cultural complexity offered a particularly rich territory for exploration. From East Texas barbecue traditions to Gulf Coast seafood preparations. From Mexican influences to the German heritage evident in the Hill Country cuisine. The state presented wide microcosms of culinary diversity.

In Austin, a chance encounter stopped his progress. He had stopped at a neighborhood restaurant he’d been told was known for its Tex-Mex cuisine. After his meal, he sat in the bar and got into a conversation with the bartender about local food culture. Matthew didn’t immediately notice the older man who had taken the next seat until he joined their discussion.

“Our chef learned those fermentation techniques in Oaxaca,” the man commented, referencing the unique preparation of the house salsas they had been discussing. “Spent six months there. He claims it transformed his understanding of Mexican cuisine entirely.”

The observation was offered casually but revealed genuine knowledge rather than superficial interest. When the friendly bartender moved to take care couple down at the end of the bar, Matthew continued talking to the man seated next to him. He found him remarkably well-informed about both traditional Mexican cooking and contemporary restaurant operations.