A Purveyor of Brie, Prosciutto and Anthems

Thirty minutes before Stinky Bklyn opens for business, its proprietor strolls the floor singing in a powerhouse tenor to Parmigiano-Reggiano and hickory-smoked Benton’s bacon. He is not being a ham. Patrick Watson is getting his pipes in shape to sing the national anthem at the Barclays Center, where he is better known as the supplier of Stinky Brown Butter Rice Krispy Treats and the crumbled blue cheese topping on the Nathan’s Famous hot dogs sold at the concession stand.

Mr. Watson, 38, is a trained opera singer but has not sung before an audience since 2006, the year he and his wife opened Stinky Bklyn, their specialty cheese shop, on Smith Street in Carroll Gardens. He has never publicly performed “The Star-Spangled Banner.”

On Monday, before the second-to-last Brooklyn Nets game of the season, the cheesemonger will face upward of 15,000 sports fans.

“I’ll be ready,” he said.

Confidence has never been an issue for Mr. Watson. He can sell a Massenet aria. He can sell 1,000 pounds of cheese a week. But he says he has never been particularly good at selling himself. “I’m a terrible self-promoter, and maybe that’s why I didn’t go further with opera,” he said.

Mr. Watson’s voice, rich as a triple-cream Brillat-Savarin, has a wide range. But that proved an obstacle, he said. “Out of the gates I was too loud,” he said. “I couldn’t find the right teacher. They’d hear me sing and say, ‘Stop it, you’re not supposed to sing like that in your 20s.’ They’d try to dial me back into some sort of lyrical Mozart thing, telling me I had to wait until I was in my 30s to sing the big, dramatic roles.”

Ángel Franco/The New York Times Patrick Watson serenades the cheeses at his shop, Stinky Bklyn, as he gears up to sing the national anthem at Monday’s Nets game at the Barclays Center.

After graduating from McGill University’s opera program, Mr. Watson, who grew up on Cape Cod, occasionally sang at the Metropolitan Opera (Pavarotti, he says, once told him to never give up) while supporting himself as a waiter and sommelier at top Manhattan restaurants like Gotham Bar and Grill, and Lupa. At the latter, he met Michele Pravda, a fellow server and singer. They married, and in 2004 they opened Carroll Gardens’ first boutique wine shop, Smith and Vine.

Time for auditioning and performing dwindled as the couple followed up with Stinky Bklyn, a wine bar called the JakeWalk and two children. Mr. Watson’s singing became more or less consigned to blow-the-roof-off renditions of “Happy Birthday” and serenading his son and daughter with Puccini at bath time despite their complaints of “It’s too loud, Daddy.”

“My neighbor must have a stock of earplugs,” he said.

But Mr. Watson’s volume did not pose a problem for Petra Pope, a vice president for event marketing for the Brooklyn Nets, who heard his audition tape.

When the Barclays arena opened in September, Ms. Pope had 44 national anthem spots to fill for the season and received about 150 recorded submissions, performed by everyone from violinists to school choirs to soloists. Some, she said, were not listenable.

“It’s a very hard song to sing,” Ms. Pope said. “As soon as I heard Patrick I said yes instantly, it’s so beautiful.”

“I had a little inside track,” Mr. Watson joked, explaining that a contact he had made at the arena offered to pass his tape to Ms. Pope.

Practicing scales and phrasing is Mr. Watson’s main preparation for the big night. He has been trying to assist customers silently, in order to protect his vocal chords (though when he does reel off the names of cheeses, his French, Italian and Spanish pronunciations are impeccable, thanks to his operatic training). Rather than look back on what might have been, Mr. Watson keeps his focus forward.

“I hope they’ll ask me back for the playoffs,” he said. “Michele and I could sing a duet.”