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" Today was preview day at Flavour. Blythe hired a publicist, who put together a special tasting for select press people and &amp;quot;tastemakers.&amp;quot; Brian, our PR guy, looks like The Rock but talks like David Spade. He assured us that this was a good way to create &amp;quot;buzz&amp;quot; on the street. &amp;quot;It makes people feel important when they get to try something before everyone else does,&amp;quot; he said.  He invited a motley crowd of about 20 people, who looked like they might have been on their way to a methadone clinic. Tastemakers, my ass. I think he found these people standing outside at 6 a.m. looking for a hot meal.  &amp;quot;Count the silverware before they leave,&amp;quot; I whispered to Blythe, but she punched me in the arm and told me to shut up.  Brad, our most experienced waiter, whose last job was at a Denny&amp;#039;s in San Clemente, suggested they all sit around a table in the center of the restaurant and share the food family style. Having no experience with any of this, we agreed that it sounded fine.  Blythe prepared everything on the menu \u2014 except the chicken and apple sausage, which Remi, the employee formerly known as our busboy, &amp;quot;accidentally&amp;quot; left in the bathroom overnight. I don&amp;#039;t even want to know how the sausage gets in the bathroom, but it smells like death in there now.  The tastemakers, or TMs, as Brian called them, sipped their lattes and noshed on some homemade muffins, until Blythe appeared to make a short speech.  &amp;quot;I wanted to welcome you all to our humble little restaurant, Flavour. We&amp;#039;re delighted to meet you, and I hope in the next hour you&amp;#039;ll be delighted to meet us.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;These are absolutely delicious,&amp;quot; a woman with thick glasses and a beehive haircut said. She gestured to the muffin in her hand. A few other TMs nodded their heads and spoke up. &amp;quot;What&amp;#039;s in them?&amp;quot; &amp;quot;How did you get them so fluffy?&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Where did you study?&amp;quot;  And that was just the first course. By the time she got to the egg dishes, people were beginning to moan and groan in orgasmic pleasure. Blythe makes this amazing omelet with asparagus and goat cheese that was a huge hit. So was her arugula and fontina frittata. Next, the waiters brought out the caramelized chocolate banana waffle and the raspberry brioche French toast (with the bread from Big Sur), and it was like an orgy. If you closed your eyes, you could swear you were at a swingers&amp;#039; convention in Reno.  The morning was a complete and utter success, and more than a few people promised to write glowing reviews of the place. One man told Blythe she&amp;#039;d &amp;quot;saved breakfast from going into extinction in L.A.,&amp;quot; whatever that means.  Everything was perfect until I made the mistake of yukking it up with Gabby while we were cleaning up. I was imitating one of the customers and cracking a bunch of people up. When Blythe saw, she asked me to join her in the kitchen.  &amp;quot;What are you doing?&amp;quot; she said her face still covered in flour and perspiration.  &amp;quot;What do you mean?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;You need to be a role model to the staff. You&amp;#039;re their boss.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;We were just laughing.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Yeah, well, I&amp;#039;m busting my ass here, trying to get ready for Sunday, and you&amp;#039;re having a merry old time, as if the opening doesn&amp;#039;t mean anything to you.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;You did great today,&amp;quot; I told her, giving her a hug.  &amp;quot;You think?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;I know. Sunday is going to be the greatest restaurant opening of all time.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;I need you, Zach. I need you to be totally there for me. Otherwise I might really lose it.&amp;quot; "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.redbookmag.com/love-sex/mens-perspective/a2571/diary-he-020108/>