So many ways for a restaurant to take a reservation, and so many ways for a restaurant to mess up this simple, but critical, first step. We’ve visited this topic several times, but each incident somehow sheds even more light on the complexities of running a business.

Take last night for example: A cold, wet, rainy East Coast night. Not the kind of evening you want to hang around under an awning outside waiting for a warm indoor table. Why did we do it? Very simple: This restaurant evokes the best of all food memories. They are never on time for their reservations. The owner bustles around talking to everyone, hoping that a four-top will consider the window peepers staring in and have their final conversation of the evening outside, rather than tableside. The window peepers continue their forlorn looks.

In the old days, probably ten years ago, the owner was known to suggest that it was time for guests to move on. They’ve had dinner, dessert, paid the check, OK, now go. He has mellowed somewhat and parades around similarly but has become friends with many of his regulars. At least they view him as a friend. When they finally surrender the table, they give him a big buss. He smiles, but behind his back are the pieces to start resetting that table.

It’s not that the owner is all business. It’s that he feels torn between the two worlds; the world of the diner happily enjoying the last bite of tartufo and the would-be diner anticipating the pasta dish he will soon order. Every so often, the owner comes outside and says, “I know, I know. What am I to do? I can’t make them leave.” See, he has mellowed.

Two colliding universes were outside waiting last evening. There was a family foursome-mother, father, daughter, and son-in-law- who were moody, grumbling, impatient, and threatening numerous times to leave. They were unpleasant in their angst. They confronted the owner several times, and he assured them they were next. I wish they had left. They did not deserve this place.

On the street side, not under the awning, was another foursome; polar opposites to the first group. At one point, they asked us, was it worth staying. It was to be their first visit to this New York West Village Italian gem. We assured them that their table was in the dessert stage of life, and they would happily thank us later in the evening if they stayed. They stayed; they did thank us with beaming platters of tomato sauce dishes in front of them. We knew.

So when a manager, an owner, or a host fulfills his job pleasantly, you wait. At this place, it’s part of the experience. A 9:30 reservation easily drifts to 10:15 or later. The mistake you make is expecting the reservation to be filled near the time of the designation. Don’t bother. There are plenty of cranky restaurants that are willing to lose you as a customer because they do not fulfill the reservation pledge and give off an air of snobbery, of disinterest. That never happens here.

Here you have the shoulder shrug that asks “what am I to do?”  The look of confusion and the comment, “I wish I could seat you now.” When you leave, you thank him. It was as good as always.

All is forgotten until your next reservation!