Truths, Lies and Other Great Stories of the Restaurant Industry

By John Mariani

It’s that time of year again, when Restaurant magazine, an industry journal published out of London, names the “World’s 50 Best Restaurants,” an annual list so nonsensical as to make “Alice in Wonderland” seem like a serious guidebook.

Years ago I was invited to be one of the hundreds of judges for this awards program (and I was to pick the other North American judges), now made up of more than a thousand food writers, chefs and restaurateurs, and well-traveled gastronomes. Each judge casts seven votes, “three of which must apply toward restaurants outside of his or her home region. Voters must have dined at a restaurant within the past 18 months.”

After that first year on the panel I realized the whole thing was a farce, for several reasons.

First, judges were not required to show any proof that they’d eaten in a restaurant they voted for within the previous 18 months, or ever. This meant, in my case, that I could not vote for my favorite restaurant in the world, Le Bernardin in NYC, because I hadn’t dined there within 18 months. And, in meeting with my colleagues in London that year, from as far away as Tokyo and Mumbai, it was clear that many of them had never visited France, Italy, the U.S. or South America, and none had the kind of expense account necessary to do so. No food journalist does, and many of those American restaurant critics I asked about joining the panel said they never really got out of the city where they worked.

Yet in the end, that year’s top winners were all the most extravagant, most expensive, most molecular/modernist, and most impossible to get into restaurants in the world. So, how did anyone on our panel actually get to dine in so many of them within the prior 18 months? None of it made sense to me, and as each year passes, the list gets curiouser and curiouser. The top spot for several years (2010, 2011, 2012, 2014) went to Noma in Copenhagen, which is notoriously difficult to get into. This year for some reason Noma, praised for serving plates of moss, lichen and live ants dropped down to number five, which could suggest scores of judges went back within the past year and found it lacking. Yeah, right.

Thomas Keller’s bicoastal restaurants, The French Laundry and Per Se, consistently made the list; this year neither did. Indeed, U.S. restaurants rarely came anywhere near the top ten, though this year NYC’s Eleven Madison Park, which serves a $295 tasting menu, got bumped up to number three. London superstar chef Heston Blumenthal’s Fat Duck once held number one and is now off the list completely. Not even the vaunted Momofuku Ko of David Chang has a place among the top 50 any longer.

The top spot this year is the marvelous Osteria Francescana in Modena, Italy, whose chef Massimo Bottura is one of Italy’s rare modernist chefs. I love Bottura’s cooking, but haven’t eaten there in two years, so I couldn’t vote for him, were I still on the panel. And you know that Modena (250 miles from Rome, 80 from Florence) is not exactly on the expense account of most food writers. Imagine the editor of the Mumbai Times telling its restaurant critic, “Why not just pop over to Modena to check this place out this weekend … keep your receipts.”

Then there are those restaurants on the list that I doubt more than a handful of committed food experts and “well-traveled gastronomes” have ever even heard of: Mirazur in Menton, France (No. 6), Quintonil in Mexico City (No. 12), White Rabbit in Moscow (No. 18), Gagan in Bangkok (No 23, one slot ahead of Le Bernardin), Vendôme in Bergsich Gladback, Germany (No. 35), or QuiQui in Dacosta, Spain (No. 49).

Since the list is so screwy, it’s hardly surprising that only three restaurants each in the U.S., France, and Italy make the cut–the same number as Lima, Peru!—and two in Japan. The award for The World’s Best Female Chef 2016 went to Dominique Crenn of Atelier Crenn and Petit Crenn in San Francisco, but her restaurants didn’t even make the top 50 list. Doh!

Such imbalance begins to make the Guide Michelin’s star ratings look wholly rational, but that’s another story. Yet, despite their obvious uselessness, the Restaurant magazine awards have in some media reports been called the most powerful in the world while at the same time being widely dismissed by most establishment media.

It’s a preposterous list, but even more important it’s just plain silly. Yet, I expect any day now to be asked, “My God! Has Le Bernardin gotten all that bad? Is Thomas Keller’s reign over? Is Heston Blumenthal passé?” It’s almost like a Monty Python list whereon you’d expect to find non-existent restaurants with funny names like The Passionate Lizard or Chef Ding’s Dong.

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The restaurant industry is alive, well and in most cases prosperous. So around this time of every year the pundits, prognosticators, soothsayers and crystal ball gazers all seem to put forth the upcoming trends for for the new year. Never say never and you won’t be surprised nor disappointed, a wiser statement was never put forth about the restaurant industry. Hey, someone had to predict that Kale would be the new hot item a few years ago, since we have only used it for decades as a garnish on plates along with a fresh Orange slice. Unfortunately, Oranges aren’t as sexy and only provide us with Vitamin C, so it pales in comparison to leafy green. Sort of the way I feel about some of these know it all’s who think the restaurant industry is still a bunch of bookends of East Coast and West Coast ‘Trend Setters.’ I marvel about trendinistas who somehow think that other parts of the country don’t also count for establishing food likes and trends. Organic, Natural, Farm to Table, Fiery Foods, Experiential, Butchery, Off Beat, Local, etc., are just some of the ‘new trend’ terms that these so called ‘experts in the field’ are predicting.

To the best of my knowledge, New Jersey has been noted for decades in growing Natural Beefsteak Tomatoes, along with Jersey Corn and Farm Picked Strawberries and shared them with many a happy eater. North Carolina is well appreciated for their ‘Goodness Grows’ Farm to Table program that has been copied and replicated around the country by other states. New Mexico is known and respected for their Hatch Chiles, some which can be ‘Fiery’ and used in many different ways. In eastern Pennsylvania, the Pennsylvania Dutch farmers have for centuries raised and butchered their own Hogs, and chefs from around the country have gone there to learn and buy their products. From cities like Portland, Oregon to Portland, Maine, both are known for their ‘off beat & locally’ inspired restaurants, natural and organic ingredients and comfortable surroundings. Las Vegas, that ‘Sin City’, has developed the largest array of Asian Restaurants of any other area in the country, yet barely gets a mention in the National Food Press. Oh, lest I forget the pundit who predicted the advent of ‘Hot & Spicy Fried Chicken,’ possibly he has never been to Nashville or heard about Carla Hall either.

Another big ‘trend’ is the Uberization of food delivery. Somehow, maybe some people have not either visited or lived in New York, Chicago or San Francisco, where you can get great restaurant food, along with Chinese, Fried Chicken, etc delivered anyplace day or night—just amazing! Actually, somehow many have forgotten if you live in certain parts of the South or Southwest, they still deliver milk, eggs, etc., to your home door, but then again it’s not an East or a West Coast thing, I guess. We are and always have been a country of consumers who like convenience; why else would we pay some else to stand in line for the next Apple iPhone for us?!?

“If you never tasted the water, how would you know how to drink.”

It’s a whole new world and Baby Boomers are learning the hard facts that their numbers are dwindling, Millennials are taking over this year and Gen X will surpass Boomers by 2028. So the world as many know it, is changing dramatically and will directly affect the way people eat a along with what they expect and anticipate. Casual Dining is here to stay, whether you live in New York City, Dothan, Alabama or Lacrosse, Wisconsin, although the last two locations mentioned, never knew it wasn’t the norm. Restaurant and Hotel guests all want to have it easier, not be told how to eat, what to like and then have to pay for the privilege. Price points in restaurants are suspect to evolve, when the best known restaurants in today’s news are Chipotle, Shake Shack, Panera and Starbucks; yes they are now considered a restaurant too. With the given certainty that the minimum wage will rise next year, prices in restaurants are sure to follow and consumers will demand more and better service at the same time. The concept of a fair wage for a good days’ work is still acceptable to most, however the jury is still out on all-inclusive pricing instead of the tipping model, although some folks might have us believe it’s a done deal. There is still a large segment of customers from all parts of the country who value authenticity, sincerity and hospitality, probably some of the hardest things for restaurants to do consistently. Food is a very tangible commodity, yet service, attitude and appreciation of each other along with the value of the experience can be the most intangible point of today and the future.

By Lettie Teague

They’re the reason you use emojis instead of email and Snapchats instead of real chats. But will millennials also upend the wine establishment? As Lettie Teague discovers, this relationship status is complicated. “SO MANY MILLENNIALS ARE interested more in the narrative of the wine rather than the wine,” said Jason Jacobeit, the 29-year-old head sommelier of Bâtard restaurant in New York. “A lot of mediocre wine is being sold on the basis of a story.”

Mr. Jacobeit lamented the fact that few of his generational peers took the time to understand why certain wines are greater than others. The rustic sparkling wine Pét-Nat (short for pétillant-naturel), for example, may be hip and fun, but it will never be as great as Champagne. Mr. Jacobeit said that his peers need to learn to distinguish the difference between “being excited about wine and wine that is genuinely exciting.”

Taylor Parsons, the 35-year-old wine director of République in Los Angeles attributes these “gaps” in millennials’ wine knowledge to their incessant search for the next cool thing, be it orange wine or Slovenian Chardonnay. “We get tons of requests for Slovenian Chardonnay,” he said.

Which might just mean you’ll soon be seeing many more Slovenian Chardonnays on restaurant wine lists. After all, millennials have been heralded as the generation capable of changing everything. The largest generation to date at 75 million strong, they certainly have clout. This group of 18- to 34-year-olds is technologically savvy, environmentally engaged and eager for stories about the things they love. They’ve helped transform the way we connect with one another, but will they also (re)shape the way we drink? I’d say “perhaps,” although a millennial might answer “Yaaaasssss!”

In search of an answer, I talked to as many millennial sommeliers, winemakers, retailers and wine drinkers as I could. I also began combing through piles of data, starting with an August survey from Wine Opinions, a California-based wine-research group. In the survey, the results of which will be released later this month, the group polled 2,634 wine drinkers from three generations—millennials, Gen X and boomers—about their wine preferences, buying habits and information sources.

One of the biggest divides turned out to be the numerical rating system. Millennials regard the 100-point scale as the creation—and the provenance—of their older wine-drinking peers. They won’t be “duped” into buying an expensive wine just because some critic awarded it 92 points; they value stories and a personal connection.

Though their rebellious tastes can lead them into trouble, millennials’ enthusiasm for the obscure has also been a boon. As Mr. Parsons observed, it means “you can have a restaurant wine list today without Napa Cabernet or New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc,” two wines that achieved fame thanks to Gen Xers and boomers.

But a wine list designed to appeal to millennials shouldn’t be too pricey. According to Wine Opinions, they spend less money per bottle than their older peers—79% of regular millennial wine drinkers bought wines in the $10-$15 range. (This isn’t all that surprising since most young wine drinkers have less money to spend.)

So how and where are millennials getting their wine education? “Millennials don’t like ratings, but they like some kind of review,” said Adam Teeter, the 32-year-old editor and co-founder of VinePair, a New York-based online wine magazine for millennials. “They have a great thirst for knowledge.”

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That’s why you’ll find a good deal of VinePair editorial content devoted to educational articles, including an extensive Wine 101 section where readers can learn the names of important grapes and how to taste wine. It’s also why Mr. Teeter says some of his non-wine-professional friends have sought to become certified sommeliers. “I don’t remember my parents’ friends having sommelier certification,” he said.

I thought about pointing out that sommelier certification was virtually nonexistent when Gen Xers—let alone boomers—were growing up, but I held my tongue. After all, the Wine Opinions research showed that only 17% of millennials care what a wine columnist like me says. In fact, just 22% subscribe to a print wine magazine or newsletter—that’s about half the percentage of Gen Xers (41%). All three generations, however, surf the Web for wine information. Interestingly, baby boomers and Gen Xers went online even more than millennials, with 65% of Gen Xers looking on the Web, versus 61% of boomers and 50% of millennials.

There were other points of convergence in Wine Opinions’ data, and the three generations seemed to agree more often than not. For example, when asked if they would buy a bottle they’d never tried or a new wine by the glass, 86% of millennials said that they would; 72% of baby boomers said they would, too. All three liked red wine more than white or sparkling, and they all liked Moscato. Yet with conventional wisdom holding that millennials don’t care about luxury and aren’t loyal to brands, it’s little wonder that wine producers all over the world—like every other business—are scrambling to figure out what they want.

And it’s safe to say that whatever millennials do want, they’ll probably get it; by 2017, they’ll have more buying power than any other demographic group. So though boomers and Gen Xers helped build and sustain the wine business over the years, companies big and small are paying attention to millennial habits and marketing their products accordingly.

Sipping by the Numbers

The majority of millennials are now over the legal drinking age in America, and the habits they acquire might shape the wine industry. Get a glimpse of the future with these factoids from Wine Opinions’ 2015 survey of wine-drinking millennials.

• 54% haven’t purchased—and have no interest in purchasing—wine in a can.

• 86% buy a bottle or glass of wine they’ve never tried before at least two to three times a month.

• 22% subscribe to a print wine magazine, newsletter or other publication.

• 85% have met someone after work for a glass of wine at least once in the past month.

• 43% have visited four or more winery tasting rooms in the past 12 months.

• 61% have commented on wine on Facebook or read the wine comments of others on Facebook in the past month.

• 72% have posted a photo on Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest or other social media showing wine they enjoyed in the past month.

E.&J. Gallo Winery’s Carnivor Cabernet is a perfect example. Launched in 2013 and priced at $15, the wine is aimed at young male drinkers. “Millennials are very driven by word-of-mouth, so we engage key influencers in conversation about our product,” Molly Davis, Gallo’s vice president of marketing, wrote in an email about the brand’s strategy. In other words, they send bottles to bloggers and hold tasting events. Carnivor Cabernet’s website is heavy on social media, promoting the hashtag #DevourLife and featuring a feed from its Instagram account. And the company has put together a guide to meat cuts, with recipes, in the hope of furthering its millennial appeal.

While it was interesting to read about millennials and talk about millennials, I wanted to actually taste with millennials. So I assembled a mini-focus group, with two men and two women ranging in age from 25 to 32. While my group’s wine knowledge was limited, they were enthusiastic and one of them had recently joined a wine club.

I bought wines that millennials were purported to like: Prosecco, a red blend (Bordeaux), Riesling, Beaujolais, Moscato, Malbec and an obscure wine with hipster cred—Cour-Cheverny, a white wine from the Loire Valley. I spent around $15-$20 a bottle, staying close to their favored price point.

‘Millennials have been heralded as the generation capable of changing everything. The largest generation to date at 75 million strong, they certainly have clout.’

The group didn’t particularly like the Prosecco I’d chosen. The Le Vigne di Alice Doro ($20) was too fruity, they said. In fact, they didn’t much like Prosecco at all. They did like the slightly sweet and frothy 2012 Jorge Ordonez & Co. Botani Sparkling Muscat ($16) from Spain, but none could recall ever buying a Moscato before.

The same was true for the Riesling. Although they liked the 2014 Nik Weis St. Urbans-Hof Wiltinger Alte Reben ($17) from Mosel, it wasn’t a wine they’d ever think about buying because they didn’t know much about German wines. “Aren’t they all sweet?” asked Rachel, a 30-year-old freelance fashion consultant.

The Cour-Cheverny was acceptable, but the back story I told them—an obscure white grape (Romorantin) that almost disappeared—was deemed uncompelling. “Maybe if the story was more interesting I would have liked the wine more,” said Steven, a 32-year-old lawyer. In this regard, at least, my focus group supported the research I’d found.

Egidio, a 25-year-old financier, preferred Italian reds above all. They were the wines his father had taught him to love. (Both he and Steven had wine-collecting fathers.) As for the Beaujolais, a 2013 Fleurie from Château de Fleurie, it was simply “too light.”

They loved the rich, lush, concentrated 2013 Achaval Ferrer Mendoza Malbec ($18), and all knew something about Malbec. But they said that there were too many different types. “I would never order a Malbec in a restaurant. It’s too various, unlike a Cabernet,” said 28-year-old Leah, a public-relations professional.

The red blend was a hit as well—though none of them knew that Bordeaux was a blend. The 2010 Château Sénéjac Haut-Médoc Cru Bourgeois ($24) initially failed to thrill—too tannic and dry, according to Leah—but when I suggested trying it with some cheese, the wine was transformed.

When it came to buying wine, three of the four said they sought the counsel of retailers, while Egidio asked his father’s advice. None consulted online sources or, of course, magazines. They preferred a personal connection to the person making the suggestions. “You really want someone with experience who knows you,” Steven said. This may have been a classic millennial attitude, but it’s something I’ve heard said by many Gen Xers and boomers as well.

Will millennials in the end “revolutionize” wine—or banking or dining, for that matter? Will they render wine scores obsolete and classic wines like Bordeaux and Burgundy mere runners up to…Slovenian Chardonnay? Perhaps. They’ve certainly done their part to promote small producers creating interesting wines in odd corners of the globe. But to truly claim their position as the most powerful consumers in the world, they’ll need to develop a broader context and a deeper understanding of the entire world of wine—and not just an appreciation of a good story or a few obscure grapes.

http://www.wsj.com/articles/how-millennials-are-changing-wine-1446748945

Life is what you make of it in eating, discovering and enjoying. However a food blogger friend of ours, Ralph Raffio has a better take on life and food of course, saying, “Like many wonderful people in my life they know about and take enormous pleasure in good food. Eating is an important part of the pleasure, but it isn’t the biggest part. Sharing is. It’s everything, actually.” So, with that great perspective began an interesting visit to the East Coast to share some new experiences and visit some old haunts with friends, associates and several thousand other ‘tourists’ in the height of travel season, at the end of Summer. The greater New York area was where I grew up and lived on and off for decades and each time I return to the area, there are of course fond and trying remembrances, but mostly pangs of joy.

Long Island’s South Shore is well known for the Hamptons, however one of the best kept secrets are the older mid-island beach towns around Patchogue that are rich with small local restaurants, farm stands, culture and history. Delfiore Pizzeria is a great example of a simple and easy restaurant with very good pizza. It is a local favorite and very accommodating as to type and style of pizza.

The area markets also feature local produce and dairy products, which are the hard to get ingredients in many of our big cities today, but just right for a Summer cookout and dinner party.

The Berkshires in Western Massachusetts are rich in culture, heritage and brimming with new and established restaurants along with food markets all primed for the season. Guido’s is a perennial favorite of locals and a must stop for picnic preparations for a night at Tanglewood.

Just across the Connecticut state line, in Lakeville, is The Woodland a favorite for fresh local fish, sushi and daily specials; extremely popular with the natives.

New York, New York – a heck of a town! Russ & Daughters has been in business for decades and finally decided to open a café which features their tremendous smoked fish selection. My only complaint is, why did they wait so long!

In the mood for a light lunch or brunch, but with some panache and people watching included, head over to Sarabeth’s on Central Park South and you certainly will not be disappointed. It’s a comfortable spot to relax, enjoy a salad, an order of crab cakes which are one of their specialties’ and glass or bottle of Labor Wines Pinot Noir from the Willamette Valley in Oregon.

When in New York and the Yankees are playing, ride the subway to the game and a night at the Stadium is must, along with eating ballpark food, meandering around and talking to other baseball fans. Quite the wonderful experience.

The Oyster Bar at Grand Central is the quintessential New York old school restaurant occurrence, which is as much of yesterday as it is today. The best selection of oysters, clams and fish that there is in the City with a dining room and counter seating that is all about food and a nod to history. By the way, if you’re looking for one of the best wine lists, both by the glass and bottle, this is the place to come too.

Walking neighborhoods in the City is one of the great enjoyments of life and not just a past time. The Upper East Side is full of trendy restaurants, wonderful shops and plenty of people watching. But to really experience New York, one needs to have a hot dog; if you’re not going to Nathan’s in Coney Island, you need to head to Papaya King on 86th & 3rd Avenue to enjoy a true New York treat.

After a busy day touring the Metropolitan Museum and viewing art from around the world, since New York is the ethnic melting pot of the country (not sure about this phrase), a visit to Chinatown hits the spot. The oldest continuing operating Chinese restaurant, serving only Dim Sum since 1920, Nah Wah Tea Parlor is the place to visit. They are welcoming and always busy, with over 30 choices prepared to order, it most certainly never gets boring.

Continuing on with the ethnic vein, it’s not often you can find Southern Indian cuisine in the states, as most Indian restaurants feature the Northern version of the food. Anjappar Chettinad, located in the heart of the Murray Hill neighborhood answers this call with plenty of delicious options, including Fresh Whole Grilled Fish, Mint Sauce & House made Chutney, Onion Kulcha and Chicken from the Tandoor oven, accompanied by Vegetarian Biriyani, the traditional roasted rice dish, washed down with strong tea.

There are most certainly hundreds or thousands of restaurant options in New York, but your own personal taste and pocketbook can also be your guide to great food, experiences and ambiance. But for a last stop before you leave or a late night experience, one needs to cross the Hudson River and head to the Ironbound ‘Portuguese’ District in Newark, New Jersey. There are many different types of restaurants, from Churrascaria’s to traditional and home style to simple bars that serve food and drink. But to truly enjoy a working class local environment where you will be welcomed as you arrive, go and experience Seabras Marisqueria on Madison Street. Belly up to the bar and feast your eyes on the fresh shellfish and hot food display. Take a walk by the glass enclosed kitchen and view the fresh fish display and the cooks working the stoves. The food, wine list, total ambiance and hospitality will assure you of a great time.

It is said one can never truly go back and enjoy the memories of life, but a visit to the East Coast and the New York area are as close as you can to enjoy Paradise!

Tags: Anjappar Chettinad, Central Park, Connecticut, Delfiore Pizzeria, East Coast, Grand Central, Guido’s, Indian, Ironbround, labor wines, Lakeville, Nah Wah Tea Parlor, New York, Newark, Oregon, Papaya King, Paradise, Patchogue, pinot noir, Pizza, Portuguese, Ralph Raffio, Russ & Daughters, Sarabeth’s, Seabras, Tandoor, The Berkshires, The Oyster Bar, The Woodland, Tourist, Upper East Side, Western Massachusetts, willamette, Yankees

Reprinted from Stephen Michaelides, Greek Columns

http://www.greekcolumns.us/

Couple of months ago—it’s a Friday after work—I’m having a beer with Gene Presti, a friend of mine who runs Presti’s of Oberlin, a family-run Italian restaurant in Oberlin, Ohio, when the discussion rolls around to Jimmy Swingos and how he waits on Frank Sinatra hand and foot the day he comes to Cleveland. Sinatra, you’ve probably heard about, but Swingos, maybe not. Swingos is a local businessman who runs in downtown Cleveland The Keg & Quarter Motor Inn and Restaurant, the restaurant part being what many will tell you, hands down, is one of the finest in Ohio.

Remember, I ask Gene, when Nick Mileti built The Coliseum, all he wants is a big-name act to open it, so he gets in touch with Sinatra—don’t ask me how—and convinces him to come to Cleveland and do his Madison Square Garden thing (the same show ABC-TV did live?) and Sinatra says “sure” and all he asks is a small fortune which is what Mileti is only too happy to pay? Remember? Don’t think so, says Gene. Mileti, besides being one of the wealthiest gents in town, owns a piece of three professional teams: The Indians, the Cavaliers (basketball), and The Crusaders (ice hockey); and The Coliseum is a 21,000-seat sports palace Mileti built smack dab in the middle of a wheatfield somewhere between Cleveland and Akron. Gene remembers. Did I ever tell you how Swingos gets to know Sinatra when he comes to Cleveland to open The Coliseum? Gene says you never told me. Got a minute? For you, he says, anything.

First off, you have got to know that when Sinatra flies into a city to do his thing, once he’s finished, that’s it—like a shot, he’s gone, back to New York and his suite at The Waldorf because, the Waldorf excepted and maybe, for good measure, Vegas (that is, if it’s convenient and his pals are there and the shows are ones he wants to see), he won’t stay overnight anywhere else. Truth! But Cleveland’s different, Jimmy says. “Cleveland’s not a hick town like your Chicago or L.A. or New York. Cleveland’s class.” You can take that anyway you want, probably with a grain of salt is what I’m thinking. Jimmy’s nuts. Gene agrees. But, his attitude? Not so nuts.

Anyway, Sinatra decides he’s going to overnight in Cleveland. He’s going to arrive the night before the show and stay—you got it—at Jimmy’s place: The Keg & Quarter, downtown Cleveland, a 30- to 45-minute cab ride, going to or coming back from The Coliseum.

Jimmy’s never had someone like Sinatra at his place. Well, that’s not entirely true: The Keg being so close to the “theatre district,” he’s had celebrities like Yul Brynner, Presley, guys like that. But someone like Sinatra? To hear Jimmy tell it, it’s because of Presley that Sinatra’s staying at the Keg. The grapevine, snaking back to Jimmy, tells him that Presley, at a party in Vegas, corners Sinatra and while they’re talking he finds out he’s coming to Cleveland to do a show and he tells him, “Stay at the Keg & Quarter.” Like it’s a must. Like there is no better place.

“What the hell,” worries Jimmy. “What do you do for Sinatra? It’s an honor. Right off the bat, an honor is what it is. That he picked my place, know what I mean? But I got customers. Regulars. You tell me, ‘What do you do if like me you got a restaurant?’ Do you drop everything and kiss Sinatra’s ass? Tell your regulars go fly a kite?”

Sinatra checks in 2 a.m., Saturday morning. Two a.m. at the Keg is about the time the restaurant crowd has thinned out but, face it, at the bar, hangers-on have got a nice glow. But this Friday—correction, this very early Saturday morning—the place is deserted. Jimmy has seen to that; cleared out the place. Anybody complain? Jimmy says, “Nobody says nothing. Just the opposite. Totally unbelievable. People are more than willing to do what I ask them to do—in a nice way, you understand—once they find out Sinatra’s gonna be here and that I don’t need anyone here pawing or slobbering all over him if you get what I mean. Everybody out except for the band and the singers just in case, and a couple of captains, a busboy or two, my chef and some cooks.”

Later on, I find out from one of the employees who has seen everything that when Jimmy orders everyone out there’s this one guy—employee is very serious about this: he has never never seen anything like it—pleading with Jimmy. “He’s down on his knees,” says this guy. “When he finds out about Sinatra and how he’s gonna be here, about to be here any second, he says to Jimmy, ‘I’ve got 1,500 bucks for you if you let me shake his hand. Just shake his hand is all. 1,500 dollars. Here. Look. Take it. I will do anything.’ Can you believe it? This guy takes out a wad of what I’ve gotta believe is nothing but C-notes—he’s still down on his knees—and peels off 15. He says to Jimmy, ‘Here, for you: my gift to you for bringing Frank Sinatra to Cleveland.’ Forget about it, Jimmy tells him. Nobody gives me nothing, he says. Jimmy tells him how sorry he is, but he’s got to understand.”

By now, Jimmy is as ready as he can be for Sinatra. He’s even blocked out a floor in the hotel for Sinatra and his retinue which, it turns out, numbers 12—maybe more, maybe less. Bodyguards, you think? I ask Jimmy. “Maybe,” he says. “I don’t know. Bodyguards, pals, whatever; does it matter? All’s I know is that he’s bringing a bunch of people here with him, so I am gonna make sure we take care of them—but for a buck, right?—all on the same floor. What’s so hard? I clear out a section. This is a very big deal. You gotta know that. I know that, for Crissake. Who is it that doesn’t?”

At about 2 a.m., Sinatra and his group take over the restaurant. Jimmy has already decided he’ll select the menu and the wines. Whatever he serves? Comp. If Sinatra says something like “thank you very much, but I’d rather order from the menu,” then what? “Then,” says Jimmy, “it is what it is. I’m just trying to be a good host.”

I ask Jimmy if he’s got any idea what it is Sinatra likes to eat?

“I ask around. I phone all over to places where I know he has been—Miami Beach, L.A., Vegas, New York. What’s he eat? I ask. What’s he like? What is it you served Sinatra the last time he was with you? No matter who it is that I ask, I get the same answer. ‘It is always steak,’ they say. ‘Always.’ Someone else—Vegas, I think—says, ‘Steak, but also fresh apple fritters. Make sure you got apple fritters. Fresh. He loves ’em. Give him apple fritters with his dinner; and don’t forget to stock his room with plenty of root beer and Tootsie Rolls. He loves that.’ Anything else? ‘He’s got simple tastes,’ Miami Beach tells me. ‘The rest of the time he is with you, there’s a valet—a toady, the kind of guy that does everything for Frank he can’t do himself or, correction, won’t or doesn’t want to do himself. The toady’ll let you know what you gotta do. No sweat. Oh yah, one more thing. I almost forgot,’ says Miami Beach. ‘He loves hot peppers. The hotter, the better.’”

Hours before Sinatra arrives and armed with the hot-pepper tip, Jimmy chases down a buddy—a hot-pepper nut, a know-it-all of hot peppers. “Don’t worry, Jimmy,” says the hot-pepper guy. “If what it is you want is hot peppers, then hot peppers it is you will get.”

Comes now time to serve dinner. Jimmy sees to it that at Sinatra’s place, where the salad dish usually goes, there goes instead hot peppers. “They are so hot,” Jimmy tells me, “I can see heat rising from them like steam from a plate of spaghetti. Know what I mean? All of a sudden my whole life is flashing before my eyes. I’m thinking—and all of this only in the time it takes Sinatra to get one or two peppers from dish to mouth—I’m thinking, ‘What if they are too hot? He will kill me. What if they are so hot, he will not be able to sing? Then what? My life is flashing before me.’ It is the longest moment ever in my life. If they are too hot, what am I going to do?’

“They are,” says Jimmy, “too hot.” To hear Jimmy tell it, Sinatra blinks back tears, slams his fist on the table, and at the top of his lungs, words singed with dragon fire, he scorches the air: “Damn, these mothers are hot.” Then, a pause. “But, Jeeeezus, they are good.”

And the fritters? Then come the fritters, coming with some kind of steak. Jimmy doesn’t remember what kind of steak. Or the doneness? Or the doneness. The waiter approaches Sinatra. “Would you like some fresh apple fritters?” he asks. Sinatra’s eye smile. “How the hell did you know?” The waiter says nothing, backs off, spins and moves through swinging doors into the kitchen where the chef, up half the night making fresh apple fritters, piles them high on a plate. Jimmy says, “I’m thinking that Sinatra’s thinking that this crazy joint’s got everything and that the crazy son of a bitch who runs this crazy joint knows everything and that is exactly what I want him to think.”

And that’s it? “Kind of. Oh, we have a few laughs with the band, take some pictures, drink a few drinks—but, yah, for the restaurant, that’s about it.” Did he sing? “We asked, but he said, ‘no thanks, got to save the voice.’”

Sinatra and the group polish off ten bottles of Chateau Laffite Rothschild 1959. Jimmy gets $250 a bottle. Not this time.

Sinatra and the group thank Jimmy profusely. He shows them to their rooms. Jimmy, himself, he checks into a vacant room. “No way do you think I am going home while he is here. What if he needs something? If he needs something, I am here. If he doesn’t, what’s the harm?”

At 4 p.m., Saturday afternoon, five hours before the concert, Sinatra’s valet scares up Jimmy. “It’s time for breakfast,” he says. “Do as I tell you,” says the valet.

Back to the kitchen go Jimmy and the valet where Jimmy does what the valet tells him to do. “Trim a potato,” he says, “and dice it up small.” Jimmy trims and dices. “Good,” says valet. “Now, fry the pieces in olive oil until they are crisp.” Jimmy fries until they’re crisp. “Now whip up four eggs and put them over the potatoes.” Scrambled or what? Jimmy asks. “Scrambled,” says valet. What else? asks Jimmy. Anything else? “That’s it,” says valet. “Around 7 o’clock, Mr. Sinatra will have some chicken soup.” Of course.

“Hell,” says Jimmy, who has three hours to think about it, “what’s to making chicken soup? The fritters I got right, the peppers they were hot enough, the wine, perfect, the place just right. I’m thinking breakfast will be OK. What’s to chicken soup? Know what I mean?”

Jimmy is right. Chicken soup is chicken soup. In the kitchen, Jimmy and the chef prepare fresh chicken stock. Says Jimmy, “Know why fresh chicken stock? Because this is not going to be your powder-add-water-bring-to-a-boil-then-serve chicken soup. This chicken soup is going to be the best chicken soup Sinatra’s ever had.” Jimmy tastes. The chef tastes. The chicken soup, they say, is great chicken soup. Great chicken soup for Sinatra. Room service, yet. Up four floors to Frank Sinatra’s room goes what . . . a bowl of chicken soup on a room service tray? You’ve got to be kidding. “What I got,” says Jimmy, “was one of our sterling silver tureens—the big ones like punch bowls we use for weddings and affairs like that and I fill it to the brim with chicken soup; made-for- Sinatra chicken soup. There was at least a gallon of soup in there. At least. Know something? It is empty when the tureen comes back.”

An hour later, word gets out Sinatra is about to leave The Keg for The Coliseum. The lobby’s jammed. Every time the elevator door opens, the crowd shuts up thinking that Sinatra’s in there and is about to step out. Jimmy, who has taken in stride everything about Sinatra’s visit, is now just a little bit worried. He takes the elevator up to Sinatra’s floor, and in his suite tells him about the crowd in the lobby and how when you leave the best way is to go out by way of the garage where “There’s a coupla limos waiting for you and everybody else to go to The Coliseum. Know what I mean?”

“Nothing doing,” says Sinatra. “It is from the lobby we go.”

At 8:30, the elevator carrying Sinatra and his pals drops to the lobby. The doors slide open, Sinatra gets out. Last. As he steps into the lobby, the crowd freezes, draws in its breath. Sinatra walks over to a little girl who, arms outstretched, is holding two long-stemmed roses, one in each hand. She hands them to Sinatra. He kisses her on both cheeks. She curtsies. Sinatra takes one of the roses and hands it to Jimmy, whispers something, shakes his hand, draws Jimmy into him and kisses him once on the right cheek, once on the left. He walks out the front door to the waiting limo. He gets in. Limo number one drives off. The crowd exhales.

So? “So, he told me he had a great time,” Jimmy tells me.

That’s it, I tell Presti: that’s it about Sinatra and Jimmy at the Keg. What do you think?

“Here is what I think,” says Gene who has waited forever for me to finish my story. “Let me tell you something,” he says. “You know that part at the beginning where Swingos asks you what you’d do if you owned the Keg and Sinatra comes to visit? Remember that part? I can remember at my restaurant, after a jazz concert at the college, Louis Prima walks in, has a couple, three beers and a pizza. Wanna know how I know Prima has a couple, three beers and a pizza? My bartender tells me. Same thing with Woody Herman. He drops by after a concert, eats—you know where? At the bar he sits and eats is where. What does he have? How the hell should I know? I’m busy in the dining room, moving from table to table, guest to guest. Making small talk. I’m supposed to shut down my place for a lousy entertainer? Listen, I got my regulars to think about. Know what I mean?”

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