The conviviality of Piatti blossomed into a clique of colorful characters.
This being Montecito. some were illustrious, like T.C. Boyle, the novelist, and Thom Steinbeck, on safari in the wilds of upper Montecito swathed in jungle togs and anecdotes, perpetually prepared for an expedition to the lower village, usually allocated to Saturday for a big night out with the wife.
When I first met Steinbeck, he had just lost a decade-long legal battle against book publishers over his father's literary rights and thusly envisioned himself surrounded by crocodiles and vipers, a bar stooled with cougars and Montecito wives that play musical husbands (that would be Lucky's).
"My dad would have loved blogs," said Thom over Cambria chardonnay after hearing about mine. "He wanted to connect directly with the reader, to hell with the middleman. If he were alive today he'd be blogging his written word."