When I was 5 she taught me to never fold my slice because you wouldn’t be able to appreciate all the flavors.
On October 21, 2011, I went to Sally’s for the three pies I was bringing back to St Rae’s for my wife and the nurses, doctors & midwives that had two days before helped her deliver our second son Elijah.
Sally’s made me wait, of course. You’re lucky if they pick up the phone and you get your Sally’s when you get it, no matter who you are. (If who you are isn’t from the neighborhood, that is.)
So I’m waiting. And waiting. Patiently, mind you, because this is Sally’s and you’re just gonna wait longer if you open your mouth.
I watch as a couple of customers pay their respects to Flo Consiglio (Sally’s widow) adding receipts by hand in her booth by the cash register. And I watch as Flo’s daughter (I forget her name) comes back with an order or two to say that the young couple at table five are on their honeymoon and are here tonight because the young woman’s parents came here to Sally’s on
So I’m standing there a while and now I gotta pay my respect to Mrs Consiglio too because y’know, it’s been 25 minutes longer than they told me and it’s gonna be just 5 minutes more which really means 20 at least and well, I’m just standing there.
Flo’s nice and friendly to me, really, even though I’m not from Wooster St. Much warmer than anyone who’s ever waited an hour outside, and then another hour at the table, would expect.
And eventually the guy from table 5 comes up to pay his check, and Flo takes the check out of his hand but not the cash and says Good luck to you both have a wonderful life together. And he’s effusive and thankful and she just gives a small nice smile and waves him off.
And then she tells her son (I forget his name too) to put my pies in the oven, and 10 minutes later I say goodbye and thank you and that was the last time I ever saw Flo Consiglio.
RIP, Flo. Thank you for some of the greatest ‘za on the entire planet and N’Aven won’t ever be the same.
