Table Seven
by Adriana · 18 June 2026 · Family & Generations
Table seven — since 1962, corner by the window, always held free, never actually reserved. Adriana's mother started it: for anyone who needs to walk in off the street. A couple, a man alone on Christmas Eve, a woman who came monthly for a year then stopped. The table is always the table. The people always different.
Table seven is in the corner by the window. It seats four, and it has been in our restaurant since my grandmother opened in 1962, though the table itself has been replaced twice — the position is what's stayed. We keep it reserved on Friday and Saturday evenings and we never actually reserve it for anyone.
My mother started this. I asked her once why and she said: for anyone who needs to walk in off the street and have somewhere to sit. In thirty years I've seen it filled by a couple who needed somewhere that wasn't their house, a man who sat alone for two hours on Christmas Eve and ordered wine and nothing else, a woman who came once a month for a year and then stopped. The table is always the table. The people are always different. I've never told anyone we hold it free. It's not a policy. It's just something we do.
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