It had a long strip of shaded tables, and better yet, a lunch special with a Caesar salad and pizza to which I could add a glass of house wine for a small amount of money. One afternoon I was walking down NW 23rd Street and noticed Pizzicato. But in Portland, my new salary left little room for extravagances, so I lived as simply as possible. I’d worked in restaurants and wineries and loved every bit of the food scene there. After leaving the bounty of Napa, I missed everything about my old life. I made the exact salary of $2,002 dollars month barely enough to make ends meet, even in those days. But I loved the job anytime I could do something to help others, it gave me the strength to move on. I landed a job as a 911 operator… traumatic, stressful, high-pressure… The shifts were long, and if someone was to make a mistake, it could cost lives. I had just lost the most important person in my life, spent every dime I had saved on medical bills, and, trying to escape the memories, had left the Napa Valley and moved to Portland. The Pizzicato restaurant which stood as a flagship for the chain on NW 23rd is closed for good.īear with me for a moment while I take a quick sentimental journey back to the Spring of 1993.
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