Photography by Kevin A. Roberts
Frank Gabriele began his restaurant career rather inauspiciously: by spilling the contents of a silver creamer on a bald man’s head at his father’s restaurant, Giovanni’s On the Hill. Twenty-five years later, he and his brother Carmelo opened Café Bellagio, which soon became Il Bel Lago, and in 2013, they debuted the fast-casual—but short-lived—Cini. Late this month, the Gabriele brothers plan to open Giovanni’s Kitchen at Cini’s former location in Ladue.
The Gabriele family is legendary in local dining circles. When did it all begin? My father was a factory worker and a waiter at Tony's. He'd leave for the factory at 5 a.m., go to to Tony's at 4 p.m., and get home late. After the theater, Tony's would do another turn at midnight. Back then, it was the only game in town.
A lot of now familiar names began at Tony's.
I have a picture showing my father and my uncles, John Mineo and Paul Manno, plus Sam Cavato and Kim Tucci. All of them were waiters.
Your father went on to open Giovanni's on the Hill.
And the man sacrificed to do it—my brother, sister, and me never saw him. But if one guy ever realized the American dream, it was my father. He went from a guy with nothing to cooking for President Ronald Reagan at the White House.
Giovanni's is as much an institution on the Hill as Tony's is downtown.
Both evoke sophistication and elegance. We had jackets available for men who had forgotten them. No one took offense, as most of them knew... That's the way it was then. Giovanni's meant jackets.
That jackets-only policy has since been relaxed.
The policy's been gone for 10 years. But to this day, Giovanni's still gets several phone calls a week asking if jackets are required.
When did Giovanni's open?
My father bought that building 41 years ago. We converted the upstairs apartments into a large banquet room; the house next door became another banquet room. Giovanni's is close to 8,000 square feet now.
Did you get your start at Giovanni's?
My brother and I were often taken to the restaurant—reluctantly—after school, still in our white shirts and bow ties. One day, when I was 10 or so, a waiter asked me to deliver coffee cups, cream, and sugar to a party of five, which I did—but I spilled the cream all over a bald guy’s head. Everyone was laughing except me. Crying and mortified, I ran into the kitchen and hid. The bald man came into the kitchen, coaxed me out, and gave me $5. The next day, I said “Hey Dad, how about if today I just hang out in the kitchen?”
Has Giovanni’s evolved, or does it need to evolve?
It's constantly evolving—no more jackets, lighter foods and preparations—but most things we will never change, like items finished tableside and the level of service. We have six floor captains; the one with the least seniority has been there 25 years, the one with the most, 35. Customers will always have high expectations at Giovanni's, though—many expect to see coats and ties. When they don't, something is lost for them. And that's difficult for us.
Isn't evolution a natural thing, though?
I don't know. For every customer who likes casual dining, there's another who wants more formality, at least some of the time. When you think of Giovanni's, a certain standard comes to mind. It has an identity and a 40-year reputation. It can only evolve so far. Giovanni's is one of a small handful of restaurants in town where waiters are in tuxedos. My father will never change that—nor should he.
Has the food evolved?
We'll always be classic Italian, but there are different spins on sauces, portions, availability of product—more and more authentic and regional ingredients are finding their way here now. That changes things.
What's the most important lesson you learned from your father?
Don't be the educator. Give the people what they want. Do whatever you can to make the guest walk out of that door happy. Remember it's an honor that the person chose Giovanni's in the first place.
What's one thing that's different than in the old days?
There's no longer room for even one error—not at that level and not in this market. The 499 things you did right last night don't matter; the one thing you did wrong does.
Was Il Bel Lago your first restaurant after working at Giovanni's?
Yes. In 2002, Bill Koman suggested my brother and I look into a location adjacent to City Place. The decision was easy with two of us working together, so Carmelo and I started Cafe Bellagio—near a lake and right next to a fountain. It became Il Bel Lago.
It was Cafe Bellagio for a time.
For a very short time. Our attorneys had assured us that name was OK to use, but in the end it was just too risky. In less than six months, we changed the name to Il Bel Lago, but we have customers that still call us Bellagio. And that was 10 years ago.
Il Bel Lago has a built-in clientele.
I doubt if any restaurant does more corporate business than we do. We'll do 10 private functions this week, and it's the middle of January. But you don't just open up on day one and get that handed to you. It takes a long time to earn it.
Looking back, is there anything you would have done differently at Bel Lago?
[Smiling.] Yeah, in the light of the recent dustup over Frappiccino versus Frappuccino, maybe we could have parlayed that little guy/big guy Bellagio business into something bigger. People love those stories.
How does Bel Lago differ from Giovanni's?
At Bel Lago, there's more flexibility. We can spend extra time on plate presentation. Each team member in the kitchen has a job. At Giovanni's, presentation is limited by what the team members on the floor can do. And Bel Lago is open for lunch; Giovanni's has never been.
What's the most satisfying part of your day?
I have two: the smile on a face as a plate gets presented and hearing "that's too beautiful to eat"—no one fakes that. And seeing a clean plate afterward.
Do you have any wacky customer stories?
A group of 10 comes in with several bottles of wine—full, but opened. Our corkage fee is $20 per bottle, so we charged them that amount and were confronted by the host, who balked at the charge since technically the wine was already open. We backed down and reversed the charge. Nowadays, you have to let that stuff slide for fear of getting nailed on social media. It's not right, but you do it. It's just not easy to make up those lost dollars.
What's the secret to your success at Bel Lago?
Being here. I take my kids to school in the mornings, and I come straight here. Sure, I enjoy my time with my family, but I also love being at the restaurant. [Smiling.] And I think it shows.
Then there's Cini. You opened—then closed—two units in 2013. It was a great concept on paper and a proven one in Ohio—fast-casual and a $7 to $8 price point. We named it after the arancini. Considering the long-standing Italian heritage, St. Louis seemed like the perfect market.
So what happened?
It never clicked. People never grasped what it was about. We were told, "it was good, but it wasn't memorable." In retrospect, maybe this was the wrong thing for two fine-dining guys. It could have been more was expected of us, but all we wanted to be was an Italian Chipotle.
Was part of the problem location-based?
That was part of it. I think a simplified version could work here, maybe in a different part of the city. The store near Saint Louis University never attracted the students, because most of their meals were provided. That unit is slated to become a Snarf's sandwich shop. In Ladue, the dinner selection was not appropriate for the neighborhood. The menu at Giovanni's Kitchen is.
So Cini in Ladue will become Giovanni's Kitchen.
The Kitchen will be where the restaurant market in St. Louis is heading: small bar, closed kitchen, casual and family-friendly, with price points averaging $10 to $15. There's parking in front and a patio, and it won't follow the trend of being all concrete floors and glass. It won't be elegant, but it will be very nice.
Is it wiser to have a gimmick or just to do something better?
Gimmicks don't last. You don't survive for over 40 years with gimmicks. The Kitchen will be better and cheaper. If cheaper's a gimmick, I'm OK with that.
How will it be different than other "affordable Italian" restaurants?
There will be made-in-house pastas and ravioli at an approachable price point. Sixty to 70 seats is manageable, and it allows for menu flexibility. Plus, the Kitchen's hands-on—one of us will always be there. That's what will set it apart.
So the pastas won't be too complex?
Many times, the simplest things get too complicated. For example, when our families get together at my mom's every Sunday, we have things like pasta with ragu, Italian sausage, veal costoletta... Nothing very fancy. You should come next Sunday. Things get started about noon.
