(Editor’s Note: Ken Robinson is substituting this week for Jerry Robinson.)

Because Valentine's Day is approaching, we were talking about women when Irv, the sous chef , came out from behind the prep area with a knife and asked, "When do you know that your wife is the boss?"

Chef Adam and I looked at each other, then at Irv, who had recently gotten married.

Chef Adam has been married 17 years to a girl he met in high school.

He's about 40. Irv is about 30, I'd guess and I'm old enough to be Adam's father. Maybe that's why he calls me 'daddio.'

I had dropped in for a free cup of weak coffee Chef Adam makes everyday about noon while the prep work is being done. Irv has told me in the past that in spite of his boss's five-star skills in the kitchen, he can't make coffee. (Note: the coffee served to dinner guests is made by a staff member and is very good).

The three of us represent three generations of married men. If the aphorism "With age comes wisdom" is reliable, I should have the best answer for Irv's inquiry. Adam, married a mere 17 years, is in the junior year of matrimony. That means that Irv is in, like, the kindergarten of married life where everything is fun and games and discovery. He is years away from sleeping in the guest bedroom because he snores like a shackled goat.

I offered to answer Irv, figuring he'd have to take my word for anything I said because I'm older and I must know stuff. So I told him, "You won't know when it happens. You meet a girl, she seems nice and pretty soon she is all you can think about. It is a Twilight Zone where that 'certain feeling' is almost palpable. You think you can walk on air. You wear a foolish grin. Your hearing is faulty because your head is abuzz with thoughts of , yes, love.

"By the time this happens, you are already a goner. And the funny part of it is, she doesn't have to do a thing except smile."

Chef Adam chimed in, unable to hold himself back in recognition of the truth. "That's right! I remember now. One day I was riding my Harley, blasting along the Sylvester Road, bugs in my teeth, and the next thing I knew I was engaged, then married. Life pulled me right along like a wild Steelhead on the line."

Irv listened grimly.

I went on.

"Here's how it works, Irv. If you want to have a happy marriage, you have to treat your wife like a princess.

And you have to do it all the time, every day. If you do this, you will find it makes your own life much happier. You have to focus on it, believe it and practice it."

Irv nodded in recognition and spun his knife the way a cowboy spins a six-gun.

"If you want someone to cherish you, you have to cherish them. It is a fundamental of human nature."

Chef Adam, who is known for his snappy rejoinders as well as his charcuterie, fleshed out the idea.

"Some day you're gonna want a motorcycle, or to go on a hunting trip or to build a Man Cave in the garage. If you treat your wife like a princess, even when you don't feel like it, it's money in the bank!"

Irv went back to chopping parsley. Chef Adam answered the phone and took a dinner reservation. I went back to the office, but not before Chef Adam told me about a special deal the restaurant would like to do. If you bring in four cans of food (or the equivalent), you can enter a monthly drawing for a $50 gift certificate at the restaurant. There would be a bin in the lobby to collect the food. The food goes to the local Food Bank.

"If other restaurants do this too, we could collect a lot of food for the needy," he said.