You have to tell us this story... I can't wait to hear it!!
BTW members of my family opened the first pizza place in Wisconsin November 1941 in Milwaukee, on Fond du Lac Ave, called the The Pizza King. It was a great place, and lasted for years.
Alright then; as briefly as I know how, then. {g}
Our first place after my ETS'g from the military, was an *elegant* 4-family on the corner of Juneua & Martin Drive. (Place was gorgeous as we were in the apt occupied by the elderly owner's of the building, who'd just sold the building. So everything was extra-nice & extra-clean.)
About 3 months after we'd moved in, this black guy moves in across the hall.
The guy was HUGE; went around 6'6" with hands like catcher's mits.
*Since* the unit we had used to be the owner's digs, they had a *peep hole* in the door so they could see who came into their building.
This peep hole faced this new neighbor's doorway, so, I could watch every move this guy made as he came & went.
First thing I noticed was he kept very late hours & then when he did get home, his music was sometimes just loud enough for us to hear as we layed in bed.
Anyway, one night -- late -- there's a bang on the door.
I look through the peep hole & it's this big goon standing there & I think to myself, "What could this clown want from me? Hope he ain't lookin' for any *trouble*."
I open the door, & with both a chip-on-my-shoulder & my meanest ("puffer fish") face I snap, "Yea, what'cha want?"
In a booming baritone voice the guy says, "I live over there" (~gesticulating to Apt#2) "I noticed you've a Weber Grill around back I was wondering if I could borrrow tomorrow night. I'm having a few friends over & I need to cook 'em some food."
Now...what am I gonna say, huh?
Naturally, I *morph* into *Mr. Congenial* & say to this guy, "Oh sure, go ahead; need any charcoals?"
~to which he says, "Man, that's really nice of ya to offer, sure."
(I'm thinking to myself...want me to light the thing too while I'm at it?)
Anyway, we now move ahead 24 hours.
The party is a LOUD one, alright!
I mean, MOTOWN stuff going like crazy up to around, 11:30 pm.
As we're sitting in our chairs watching SNL?
There's a *knock* on the door & I look out the peep hole, & it's HIM! The *clown*! ~& I say to my wife, in hushed tones, "NOW what can he possibly want?"
I open the door?
The guy pushes a HUGE 3' serving tray loaded with foods of every description; sliced beef, sliced pork roast, cheeses, roasted vegetables including corn on the cob with the husks pulled-back to *display* 'em, just so & *everthing* with garnishs...
I was dumbfounded.
As I take the tray he says, "Here. Thanks for the grill; party was a success & the Weber worked great."
He turns right around & goes back into his apartment, closes the door, & leaves me standing there holding this magnificent tray full of food.
I wanted to start bawling, right then & there.
Just so happens we were really HUNGRY.
So we chowed-down while wondering aloud, "What-the-hell is this guy all about?"
The food??
*Delicious* beyond description...but Carlo?
The PRESENTATION could've made the cover of any gourmet magazine...easy.
The guy's name was, "Kenny."
He was recently divorced which explained his moving in across the hall with relatively no furniture?
He was also the Head Chef at the Pfister Hotel.
Turns out he had that *one* Saturday night off -- a BIG DEAL for a guy in his business -- so he through the bash.
I made it a *point* of becoming "friends" with ol' "Kenny."
Since Kenny had *every-other* Sunday "Off" & was as big a Packer fan as we were??
Kenny became the "Honorary Chef" at our place every-other-Sunday, on my dime; whereby, my wife & Kenny would go down to "Sendick's" (~on the East Side) late Sunday morning for all the fresh *everythings* he'd need to make our meal -- & I mean, everything.
(BTW: I cleaned that kitchen afterwards & I want to tell you a "Chef" will touch each & every pan, bowl, utensil a kitchen has, at least once.)
To this day my bride & I have used Kenny's "soul food" recipe's for baked beans, chicken, beef, BBQ sauces, you name it; and, always to rave reviews from dinner guests.
Who as you might've guessed?
Get to hear the story of, "Kenny"; the big goon who moved in across the hall from us when we were just a couple of young newly wed kids, 25 years ago.
"BTW members of my family opened the first pizza place in Wisconsin November 1941 in Milwaukee, on Fond du Lac Ave, called the The Pizza King. It was a great place, and lasted for years."
Wow...
Now most people simply are not going to have an appreciation for all of what you're saying, carlo.
When you say your family owned a resturant -- Italian, no-less! -- in Milwaukee?
That's really something mighty special.
For all the racial strife the Lamestream media seems to enjoy spewing at the nation's citizens about Milwaukee?
Which tends to make Milwaukee look like a real hellhole?
It takes someone who actually lived there, to know that's all just a bunch of BS.
What Milwaukee *is*, is a place of incredible ethnic diversity; which, translates into the best eateries to be found anywhere in the country.
Back in the years you'd be talking about, those eateries would've been family owned & operated businesses too, with names *like*, "Gloriosos," "Orlandos," "Palermo Villa," "Caradaro Club," "Primas," mostly all on the east side.
Then there were the Kosher delis in the northshore 'burbs of Foxpoint, Whitefish Bay, or West Milwaukee's, "Serb Hall."
Not a "bad" place among the lot.
When I think back to my youth growing up in Milwaukee, it's those places I remember most fondly.
I also remember we were too busy enjoying the different foods to be bitching & arguing about where someone's bloodline originated.
Really.
...what great memories.