The Block’s Marc Del Pietro opens 58hundred in Southwest Garden

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PHOTOGRAPHY BY KEVIN A. ROBERTS

It’s easy for a Del Pietro to do an Italian restaurant,” says Marc Del Pietro, whose parents and family have opened nine of them. Earlier this decade, the accomplished chef shifted gears and opened butchery-focused The Block. More recently, he and a brother-in-law, fellow chef Brian Doherty, introduced 58hundred (5800 Southwest), promising “less meat, more vegetables, and some Italian here and there.”

At what age did you start in the business? My parents opened Del Pietro’s when I was 7. I started as a doorman, then busser and dishwasher when I was 10. Since my mom did the laundry at the house, I remember folding napkins every Saturday morning while watching cartoons.

Any other early memories from the restaurant? I remember taking out a tray of six entrées, and it was heavy, because I was 10, so I used a guy’s chair back to rest it. The man leaned back, spilling the entire tray. I saw my dad looking at me, and you know what I did? I ran out of the restaurant and hid, because I knew he was going to yell at me or worse. Later, he said,  “Where did you go?” like nothing ever happened. He understood. 

Any more pleasant memories of your father? He’s been gone since I was 17, but every day, my dad gets smarter and smarter. Every day, more of what he said makes sense. I’m sure I look like an idiot to my kids, but I bet they’ll end up saying the same thing.

Do your kids work in your restaurant? They do, in Webster, busing tables, and it’s been good. One thing this industry teaches you is how not to be shy, to hold the door open for people, to shake hands, to make eye contact…all the old school customs. If I don’t do those things, I still think my dad will be there to discipline me, even though he’s been dead for 30 years.

Old habits die hard. He and the business have taught my whole family patience and understanding. When we go out to dinner, my kids appreciate the time we’re having instead of complaining that their soda is taking too long. You learn to thank the people who take care of you. I gave the trash truck driver a $20 the other day. It was the restaurant business that taught me to do things like that.

Did you ever have aspirations to do anything else? Sure, I wanted to play football. I earned a scholarship out of high school, at a small school in Naperville. My dad had just died, and I was lost…I didn’t know what I was doing. I came home at Christmas break and didn’t do back. When I told my mom what I was doing she let me have it—a five-foot-two Italian woman. When my friends asked exactly what happened, I told them I covered my face—and more—then dropped to the floor and let her have her way with me. What else are ya gonna do? Not long after, I went to the CIA [Culinary Institute of America] in Hyde Park for their two-year stint.

When you attended the Culinary Institute of America, you probably knew more than the average student. It’s funny. Every time you make a move, you’re really smart, and then you’re really stupid. When I left the CIA, I thought I knew everything. Then I did my externship at The Ritz in Rancho Mirage, California, and realized I knew nothing. Then I went to Le Cirque with Daniel Boulud, where I knew nothing again. Same thing at DANIEL [the award-winning New York restaurant]. And when I worked with [Alain] Ducasse at the Hôtel de Paris for a year, I knew less than nothing. But I was 23, living in Monaco in the hotel. I didn’t get paid, but it didn’t suck.

Talk about Ducasse’s renowned restaurant in Monaco. Louis XV was one of 18 three-star restaurants at the time. At Le Cirque, we’d do 200 covers; in Monaco, we’d do 50. There were literally 40 or 50 of us in the kitchen...15 on rotissier, 14 on poissionier, 12 on saucier… It was intense. The kitchen was like Ratatouille. And everything was made to order—everything. If you got an order for pasta, you made it right then and there, a la minute. If you got an order for fish, the hotel had a boat in the Med that had tanks holding live fish. A john boat would bring it in, and a golf cart would drop it off. It was crazy.

How did you survive without money? Call them side jobs. I’d get sent things like Mont Blanc pens and I’d resell them; my friends would send me Cardinals stuff and I’d sell it; I was buying and selling Vespas… All just to make enough money to survive.

So what followed Monaco? Ducasse had just arranged for me to go to Marchesi in Milan when my mom had a heart attack. That’s when I came home, in ‘94. When she was recovering, the kids started Portabella.

Were you ready to open your own restaurant? I look back on that and realize that I was probably a better chef back then, because all I worried about was the food. Today, I’m a better restaurant owner because now I know how to manage people and money. It takes time to learn to wear all the hats. Chefs joke why they don’t teach us a little refrigeration in culinary school, because that’s what always seems to break down.

Can you share a bit about your and relatives’ restaurants? Portabella was an instant hit—a place to see and be seen in St. Louis. Looking back, doing innovative pan-Asian was a little ahead of its time with Shiitake; places like P.F. Chang’s and Stir Crazy became popular after we closed. Kilkenny’s was a little Irish pub that did really well, but when we had kids, getting home at 2:30 a.m. got old; they’re up at 6 a.m. and don’t care when Daddy got home. With Luciano’s, it was cool having a place that big and that grand in the nicest part of Clayton, but after the second water pipe break, the damage was so severe, the best option was to call it quits and walk away. We spent a lot of money converting office space in Webster into The Block, but it was worth it—so much so that we did a second one in the Central West End two years later. 

Why the switch to a meat-centric place? I liked having the ability to provide a retail component to produce something beyond dressings and sauces: spices, vinegars, bacon jam, bacon candy, bacon… plus everything else in the butcher case. It gave us a chance to talk about our ranchers and farmers. Customers see the meat case, and then the conversation starts. 

How much does cutting meat in house affect menu prices? It certainly does, but there’s a tradeoff. If I order in prepackaged ribeyes, the cost is high but I have no labor; if I butcher the larger, primal cut in house, my food cost goes way down but labor cost increases. We’re lucky that people trust us enough to order the off-cuts we’ve prepared or we’d never be able to do that. All the salamis and sausages on our butcher board are a result of buying larger cuts of meat. The boards sell like fajitas—when one goes out, other people see it and want one.

Why did the Block location close in the CWE? We tried to buy the building and the numbers made sense until we realized that the rental units needed a ton of work. At that point, the negotiated price was untenable, even with the rental income. It was a shame because with Cortex right there, that area’s going to be hot for a long time. 58Hundred was in the picture at that point, which made it a little easier to walk away.

What’s new at the Webster location? Nothing new or different, just tweaks to the butcher board, which is our #1 seller. We’re also making full use of the farmers’ produce to make shrubs and bitters behind the bar. It made a big difference there when we added sound absorbing to absorb some of the noise.

Had you been looking for a location for a new restaurant when 58Hundred came along? No, but a friend approached me, said he was buying the 5800 building, and asked would I be interested. I think corner locations in neighborhoods appeal to people—including me—more than in strip centers, so we kept talking. I remember he said I could paint the walls and be open in about three weeks. As often happens, three weeks became sixteen, which is about right for a restaurant build out.

What’s the concept behind 58hundred? Will your Italian or meat-centric restaurant expertise play a large role? Our corner [at the southwest corner of Southwest and Dalton] is not on The Hill, but across the street is, so I could have stretched the Italian connection and gone that route or done another meat-forward place—both of which I’ve done. Today, people’s tastes and palates have become more vegetable- and plant-focused, so it made sense for the focus to be more 50/50, proteins and vegetables, on a single-page menu—six entrees, four sandwiches, five salads—that kind of thing.

What other proteins will be offered, besides beef? Both Brian’s [co-owner Brian Doherty] wife and my wife are pescatarians and when we go out, they often have a hard time finding something to eat. (smiles) We’re taking care of that here. And I’ve almost perfected a bean and tofu-based vegetarian meat ball that will surprise people.

How family-friendly will 58hundred be? Since there are young families and kids playing in parks all around us and we have a huge, tree-shaded patio with grass, the answer is “very.” Nothing on the menu is much over $20. Our idea is to offer smaller entrées, like one short rib and shareable sides for $14—not a whole plate of short ribs for double that. If you want to add another rib, you can. That’s how we eat at home, and that’s how today’s diners are eating. It’s important for them to see $14 items, not $30 items. 

Sounds like 58Hundred will have burgers, then. Yes, but not half-pounders. Like the short ribs, we’ll offer a quarter-pound, smashburger patty with the option to add more. That way, everybody’s happy.

Restaurants that sell burgers often complain about the ‘condiment factor.’ What does that mean? You sell a burger with fries and people want mayo, ketchup, steak sauce, and anything else they can think of to go with it, all free of charge. It’s one thing if they’d consume what they asked for, but most of it ends up the trash. If you charge them, you’re accused of nickel and diming. It’s a no-win situation, one that can cost restaurants a lot of money. At 58Hundred, we’re experimenting with having a signature condiment—our Block steak sauce—on the table, which may suffice.

And you can offer bottles of it to go. Exactly, and maybe some other goodies to go along with it!

Talk about the beverage program. All the places around here serve beer and shots. There’s not much variety until you leave the neighborhood. Our bar program—which will be limited but still have barrel-aged bourbons and shrubs—will keep people from having to do that. And maybe we can get the Bud Light drinkers to try a Zwickel.

Any other restaurant concepts up your sleeve or on the drawing board? We’ve got another place in mind, yes, a one-room schoolhouse out west. It could be very Winslow’s Home-ish.

Do you still do menu consultation at your kids’ grade school? I’m in my eighth year. My goal was simply to increase the vitamin count by doing subtle things like putting sweet potatoes in the mac and cheese and cauliflower in the mashed potatoes. We make the pizza in house on sheet pans, and breakfast-for-dinner day is huge. You have to watch what you call things, though, because kids’ll shy away from things like pot roast. [Laughs.] They’ve been told to steer clear of pot, right? So yes, my boys graduated, but I still help with the menu.

So you never graduated? It’s my “pay it forward,” and it’s fun. I’ve done butchering classes, too, for grade school and high school kids. I look at it as a way for them to appreciate what they’re eating. I’ll bone out a whole fish, whole chickens, and a half hog. They snicker when they hear the pork butt is actually from the shoulder and not the “boo-tay,” as one of them called it.