Queue not too long, hair slicked back, flour on his shoes, cutting basil with scissors, one pizza at a time, more than a hundred pies a day, five days a week for fifty-six years from the time he moved to New York City.

It’s quiet in there, no background music, just the hushed whispers of your tablemates. As you watch him work, you can’t help but think about your own work. You can’t help but think about what it means to do one thing really well for the rest of your life. Maybe it means that you work as much for others and their love as you do for yourself.

It also got me thinking that most people end up working on just one thing in life – but we often just talk about the ones who are famous and who have their names on the door.

It was an experience I can’t wait to do again.