How to Roast a Lamb_ New Greek Classic Cooking - Michael Psilakis [7]
It was at T.G.I. Friday’s that I met Anna, the woman who later would become my wife, and James and Jim, two painter friends who would play pivotal roles in connecting me to the path of my future. Anna and I started dating and we were able to work together for a while, but dating among staff was frowned upon at the restaurant and we were being scheduled on alternate shifts—one of us on days, one of us on nights. If we didn’t work together, we never saw each other.
In their off-hours, James and Jim were painting the interior of a restaurant called Café Angelica, which was owned by two Greek brothers. Knowing the problem we were having with our schedule, James suggested that I come over to Café Angelica and meet the owners. It was a beautiful restaurant, and they were cooking what seemed to me to be progressive food. All of it was new to me: fresh pasta, homemade focaccia, foie gras, wine service. Growing up in that Greek vacuum, I had never been exposed to any of this. I had never heard of focaccia; I didn’t know what foie gras was. But I came to the restaurant and James introduced me to the owners. I was Greek; they were Greek. It was like a reunion with long-lost friends. They asked me if I spoke Greek and when I answered in Greek, just like that, I had a new job. Not being Greek, however, it wasn’t quite so easy for Anna. She went through a full interview process but ultimately got hired as well.
Psilakis family, 1979
I threw myself into this new job with a passion. I waited tables day and night and started studying cookbooks as if they were textbooks. I wanted to learn more about cuisine and cooking. I was like a sponge, absorbing every bit of information I could. Despite my interest in this “new” style of cooking, I continued working part-time at Friday’s. I didn’t want to resign until I knew that Café Angelica was financially viable.
A few months in, Café Angelica was struggling. I wasn’t making nearly as much money as I had at Friday’s. I was just about to call it quits and return to Friday’s full-time when Café Angelica received a positive review in the New York Times. Then all hell broke loose. The restaurant became fantastically busy and successful, and there was a new need for organization and management. I volunteered. In addition to waiting tables at lunch and dinner, I started doing the restaurant’s inventory, making the schedule for the front of the house, entering the chef’s specials into the computer, cashing out the drawer at the end of the shift, and staying until the cleaning crew finished so I could lock up. I was always the first guy in the restaurant in the morning and the last guy out at night.
The restaurant was open seven days a week and, after about four months, the brothers asked me to take the Sunday shift as restaurant manager so they could have a day off together. I went out and bought some suits. On Sundays I was on the floor in a suit with added managerial responsibilities, and every other day I was an acting manager in waiter’s clothes. I was working seven days a week, living at my mother’s house, and saving every penny.
Café Angelica was doing well, and the brothers wanted to open a restaurant in Scarsdale, New York—Central Square Café. They asked me to be a partner in the venture. I was twenty-three years old, and I owned a 25 percent share in a 300-seat restaurant. I learned quickly that running a 300-seat restaurant was completely