If life's about the journey, does it matter how many bathroom breaks you take along the way?

I first met Caity DiFabio at the epicenter of all clichés.  A bar.  On a trip to Louisville two years ago, bored and waiting for a friend, I settled onto a stool and ordered an Old Fashioned.  That such a young girl could serve an ancient cocktail the right way surprised me, almost as much as her sarcastic wit and quick smile.

English: Picture of an Old Fashioned cocktail,...

This cocktail is targeted at a specific demographic: old. Old Fashioned Image via Wikipedia

Eventually my friend showed up, Caity got off work, Old Fashions took a sharp left toward tequila, then dinner, which was a great excuse for….more tequila, enough laughter to annoy everyone at the bar who wasn’t in on the joke, and tears.  Lots and lots of tears.  If you happen to have two x chromosomes, you know that four seasons of emotion over a seared tuna salad with a stranger is rare.

Not only was I impressed with Caity’s mind, but also?  That girl could drink.  She was the one with her arm around me at the end of the night as I sniffled over a long-lost love and babbled my way into a cab.  Anyone who doesn’t agree that tequila is the ultimate truth serum hasn’t gotten to the bottom of the bottle.

This however, appeals to just about everybody, including your underage son. Tequila via Flickr

Even though she was hardly born the year I left Louisville to go to college, I knew almost instantly she was an old soul, and we would be friends.  Not the talk-on-the-phone-every-day-to-compare-notes-on-life’s-little-nuances kind of thing, but a real connection nevertheless.  It seemed what we had to say to one another mattered, regardless of the chunk of variable time and space placed in between.

So it came as no surprise when I got a Facebook message over a year later that she had something important to tell me.  Caity is from a family of restaurateurs, and spent considerable time in and around the kitchen growing up.  They had decided to open a branch of their restaurant in Louisville, and she was to be a key player in the new initiative.  At the time, she was excited and scared and nervous and ready, and was also only twenty-two years old.

DiFabio’s Casapela opened in 2010.  Caity was barely legal to crack the pop-top off a beer when her family launched the restaurant, much less understand the delicate balance between supply and demand, and that the term “management” is really just secret code for “what the customer wants, the customer gets.”

English: Beer cans and bottles.

Image via Wikipedia

Yet somehow she got it, and is doing it, and still has time to sit down over a shot of tequila and listen to the bleary-eyed stranger of the night lament the things that matter most.

Day after day and way too late into the evening she shows up, often early, to orchestrate the chaos and earn an MBA on the fly that kids her age pay up to $40,000 a year to buy.  If you ask, she won’t tell you that running a family business in a foundering economy is harder than she thought it would be.  She won’t mention the NOI isn’t always in the black, her stemware keeps disappearing, and she doesn’t get to see enough of her dogs.

Image via Flickr

She’ll just smile that impish smile, fill your glass, and substitute the Piccata for the Marsala, because you could have sworn that’s what you ordered (you didn’t).

At a time when corporate profits are being redistributed as dividends or kept in cash instead of creating jobs, and the stimulus package that was or wasn’t is debated around town, it’s the Caity DiFabios of the world who remind us what it means to pursue the American Dream.  All of it.

Image via Flickr

If she wanted to, Caity could simply ride the coattails of the lost generation, cash her unemployment check, and go home.  Instead, she’s building a business, hiring employees, and figuring out how to handle the bills.  And life.  Even when she’s supposed to be off, she shows up every day, regardless of what happened the night before, to do her job and roll with the tide of whatever crazy customer happens to come in the door.

I won’t bore you with my take on the gorgonzola filet versus the chicken parmesan.  This isn’t a restaurant review…it’s more of a critique on life.  As far as I’m concerned, Caity’s already earned a full five stars because what she’s doing is the heart of the American Dream, and I’ll take it with or without the sauce.

23 thoughts on “The American Dream Wrapped Up in a Cannoli

  1. crubin says:

    Lovely post! But now I am in the mood for an Italian lunch 🙂

    1. Thanks Carrie! There’s a direct flight that leaves for Louisville in about an hour on Frontier. Can you make it?

      1. crubin says:

        Dang, I missed it. I had to settle for a lunch of fruit and yogurt instead. And some really naughty carb-heavy warm baguette bread 🙂

  2. cravencreativity says:

    Great post Stacie! I am currently trying to start a little business of my own selling my crochet and knit creations so it is always encouraging to read about others who are following their dreams and doing their own thing. Best of wishes to your friend! 🙂
    Take Care,

    1. Best of luck Karen! Starting your own business is such hard work. Thanks for taking the time to comment.

  3. Puddin says:

    Louisville is only about 75 miles south, and I have family living there. I’ll definitely have to find an excuse to visit that restaurant soon.

    1. Pat says:


      I continue to enjoy your blog and you hit a home run on the one about your son and his big heart. It matches my son as well and I intend to borrow some of the your words and give them to him. Chip is an amazing young man with tender feelings that he works hard to hide because so many people perceive it as a weakness. On another note, I purchased a “Living Social” deal to DiFabio’s that expired before I could use it. I really do need to try that place. We have a city full of wonderful home-grown cafes and restaurants. It is amazing!

      1. Thanks Pat, on both fronts. So happy to hear about your son…keep the love flowing!

  4. Susan Francke says:

    Guess we will be heading there for dinner this summer? If Chris and I ever get out of the house again without all of kids, we will give it a try ourselves.

  5. sweetmother says:

    cool post. she sounds great.

    i also gave you that liebster blog award thingy if you want it, it’s yours. lord knows it’s too small of an award for a blog as big as yours, so no sweat if you just want to let that link-love linger. I just couldn’t NOT give it to you. he, he. hit my page for deets and what to do now. oh, yes, there are actions to take! (if you want) lol. – mother

    1. Are you kidding? ANY award from you is appreciated. You have SUCH great style and flow. I’ll check it out right away. Thank you SM. =)

  6. Maggie O'C says:

    Good for Caity! Small business is tough but restaurants are even tougher. Thank goodness for those who do it and do it well, my tastebuds thank them but my diet doesn’t 🙂

    1. Right. Especially Italian. Thanks for the comment!

  7. Wonderful post. Again, you’re a wordsmithing master! I bow down to honor your talent and skill. Always great to read about someone working their ass off instead of sitting on it and complaining! Caity sounds like someone I’d like to know. But not drink tequila with – hell to the no!

    1. She’d put us both down. No doubt. But we coud totally take her when it comes to psychedelic night sweats.

      Thanks for all of your amazing support…love ya!

  8. You are such a good friend. And besides writing a great piece, looks like you just drummed up some business for her restaurant. I think that calls for a shot of tequila. On Sunday morning. Great post, as always, Stacie!

    1. I try. If you’re ever in Louisville, KY check her restaurant out! Thanks, as always, for your support and thoughts.

      1. allpowerfulwarriorgodess says:

        Yup, it’s awesome 😉

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