About the stories.

I’ve spent the last twenty years in restaurants — behind the bar, at the table, always in the thick of it. A revolving door of people, each carrying their own story, their own way of showing up. I can’t recall every name, but I remember the feeling — the laughter, the tension, the celebrations, the quiet moments that stayed with me long after the shift ended.

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At some point, I started writing things down. Not because they were extraordinary, but because they were real. A glance, a conversation, the weight of a morning prep, or a night that felt heavier than it should have. What began as a way to capture those moments turned into something I depended on. Writing became how I processed the chaos — how I slowed it all down long enough to see what it really meant. Over time, it became as necessary to me as the work itself.

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Every shift carried its own short story. Some light and easy, others messy or unexpectedly moving. You never knew what kind of day you were walking into — and that unpredictability was the beauty of it. The mix of joy and chaos.

Those hours, those people, those stories — they shaped me. And somewhere along the way, they became part of something bigger.

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A story worth sharing.

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That’s what Negroni Stories is — a record of the laughter, the chaos, and the quiet truths hospitality leaves behind. And like a Negroni, it’s simple on the surface, but layered once you sit with it. Cheers!