reasonable question for the owner of a very successful steak-house.
He'd asked me "WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT MEAT?" And I, like
some half-crazed, suicidal idiot-savant kamikaze pilot, had asked him to
repeat the question, pondered it thoughtfully, then proudly replied, "Next
to nothing!"
It was not my finest hour.
PINO NOIR: TUSCAN INTERLUDE
OF ALL THE HIGH-PRESSURE, full mind-body crunches, strange
interludes, unexpected twists and "learning experiences" in my long and
largely undistinguished career, my brief Tuscan interlude with New
York's Prince of Restaurant Darkness, Pino Luongo, was perhaps the
most illuminating, if exhausting. The owner of Coco Pazzo, Le Madri,
Sapporo di Mare, Il Toscanaccio and other businesses, Pino was, and
remains, one of the most controversial figures in the business, a man
envied, feared, despised, emulated and admired by many who have
worked for and with him.
I'll flash forward a few weeks into my account to give you a general idea
of what the perception of life under Pino was. I was the newest executive
chef in Toscorp, Pino's umbrella company, looking as chefly as possible
in my brand-new Bragard jacket with my name stitched in appropriate
Tuscan blue, standing in the front cocktail area of Pino's newest: Coco
Pazzo Teatro on the ground floor of the swank and stylish Paramount
Hotel on West 46th Street. A journalist acquaintance, whom I knew from
Vassar, came in with a large party of high-cheekboned models and
sensitive-looking young men in designer clothes. Startled to see me, he
shook my hand and said, "Tony! I didn't know you were working for Pino
now!" Then he lowered his voice and only half-jokingly added, "I guess
this means that in a few months you'll either own your own restaurant . .
. or be ground to dust."