John Speranza wanted to have a restaurant since he was a kid.  He dreamed that one day he would own the dream of his life -- a "fancy restaurant" in the snooty suburbs of a big city.  And so it was!  In his mid forties, he had made almost enough money to retire, but he chose instead to open a fancy restaurant. 

       He lived in Upper town, USA so he did not even have to move to crown his longtime dream to open a restaurant.  He decided to look for a place in Golden Heights, a suburb in the north part of town. He found a spot almost immediately in "The Strip", a top notch retail  home with the top jewelry shop in town, the best bridal shop around, and so on. He made a deal so fast he even surprised himself; smack in the middle of all these lavish shops, he was going to erect the best eatery this town had ever seen.  He soon hired the best chef, right out of Roperow in L.A., and got busy with menu crafting and restaurant building.  Quite often, he felt mouthwatering anxiety dreaming of all the dishes the chef was proposing for his now well on the way grownup play-toy. 

       A guy showed up one day at the construction site proposing an espresso machine  for this wannabe top of the class restaurant.  John did not hide his total lack of  interest in coffee in general, and the chef agreed.  They would concentrate instead on selling wine, and would discourage diners from "hanging around too long" drinking coffee when the line is at the door.  They were more interesting in fast turn over of the tables in order to make money.  Possessing such a fast food mentality, they both unfortunately missed the point in trying to build a elegant dining experience.  However, John indicated he would buy a small machine to accommodate the few who would insist on having a cappuccino with dinner. And so it all went fine, and the restaurant opened with a rousing success. 

     The dishes came out of the kitchen almost flawlessly; the carpaccio was made to look like rose leafs overlaying the capers so gently placed to complete the masterpiece. The salad was crisp, fresh, and crunchy.  The veal medallions so well displayed it was hard to eat them and disturb the beautiful presentation.  The wine opening ceremony was almost a ritual; the wines fabulous. The desserts, tiramisu in particular, were fit for royalty. 

      Nobody paid any attention to the last item "cappuccino or espresso".  And so it was for Tim and Rebecca when they chose this restaurant for a special occasion their engagement dinner.  With six other friends, they had what seemed an experience worthy of a fairy tale.  It was, as they say, "a fabulous dining experience", which included plans to have their wedding there. That was, until Tim asked for an espresso and Rebecca a cappuccino to crown this dining high.

      On their way toward home with the almost feint sound of the engine of their foreign car in the background, they both felt compelled to describe the taste (awful by the way) that the cappuccino/espresso left in their mouths. Almost in unison, they both said:  "That drink was so bad we'll never go to that place again!"

THE MORAL OF THE STORY:

The show is not over before the fat lady sings. Don't count your chickens before the eggs hatch. You can spend all the time and resources building a meal, and then a little thing like a (15cent) cappuccino badly delivered can (and most of the time will) screw it all up.