Fishtales Magazine: A Sailfish Point Publication - Magazine - Page 18
It wasn’t until my teens that I realized it could actually be a career path. But
long before then, I distinctly remember sitting at that kids’ table thinking,
Those people are having a lot of fun. That’s really awesome.
HT: Looking back, what lessons from your upbringing still influence the
way you cook and lead today?
RG: That same idea—that food brings people together. And it’s not only
family. It crosses all boundaries: race, religion, background. Early in my
career, working in restaurants before culinary school, one of my favorite
memories is hearing about a guests reaction to a dish from the server who
delivered it. I got to feel the immediate reaction people had to a good
meal, and it was addictive. I think a lot of cooks remember that first time
someone came back to the kitchen and said, Wow, table 10 said that was
the best dish I have ever had, phenomenal. It’s a feeling you want over and
over again. I sometimes compare it to a stage actor getting
applause. There’s something very immediate about cooking
for someone and watching them respond to it—not just
family, but strangers too.
HT: You started in restaurants before culinary school. How
did that begin?
RG: I was a dishwasher at 15 or 16, at a place called Bun &
Burger in the Staten Island Mall. This was the mid-seventies.
And I wasn’t a very good dishwasher, because I was always
hanging out with the cooks. The manager—who happened
to be my brother—would say, What are you doing? There’s a
pile of plates over there. There’s a pile of pots. And I’d say, I’m
hanging out with these guys. The draw was pretty immediate.
HT: You graduated from culinary school in October of 1985.
As a young chef entering the New York scene, what excited
you most about that era?
RG: The eighties in New York were absolutely insane. That’s
another book I can write when I’m retired and sitting on the
beach. After I graduated, I moved back in with my parents
on Staten Island because I didn’t have a dime to my name.
By that January, I’d scraped together enough money and a
few roommates and moved into an apartment in Little Italy.
That was phenomenal. I was working at La Côte Basque at
the time. And how I got that job is still stunning to me. I look
back and don’t quite believe it happened.
HT: Tell me that story.
RG: In culinary school, three or four of us were clearly the
best cooks in the class; two of them were my roommates.
We were arrogant young guys in our early twenties. Kings
of the place. Good grades, top of every kitchen. There
was one French chef, an old fellow, whose name escapes
me now. He kept ragging on me every single day. I didn’t
realize what he was doing at the time, but he wanted more
for me than I was giving. I was so full of myself I thought I
was doing enough. I thought he hated me. He’d make fun
of me, ask me questions that were unanswerable. His class
ended about six months before graduation. Then, about
two weeks before I graduated, I’m walking down the hall
and a kid comes up to me and says, Are you Ronnie Gallo?
Chef so-and-so wants to see you. I’m thinking, What
have I done now? I haven’t been in that man’s class for six
months.
Let's Eat!
