Introduction From

Umberto's Kitchen
"The Flavours of Tuscany"


I was born on October 24, 1946, in Pontedara, Tuscany, between Florence and Pisa, and grew up on a typical Tuscan farm. My father, Mario, tended the vineyards, where grapes were grown for a local consortium.

My parents wanted me to become a priest: when you are young, Italians keep pretty close to the church. They filter you to these seminaries, which are like regular high schools under the Catholic system. Then they enroll you in the priesthood.

Even as a boy, I felt the pressure - major pressure; becoming a priest just wasn't what I wanted to do. So when I was 12, I ran away from home. It was a short run away, only a few kilometers. I remember stealing a bicycle - I just picked one up from the front of some bar. I took shelter in the small restaurant in the country - side owned by a couple who had no children. It was spring; the schools were closing; tourists were arriving. Kids at that age were all working for income, and I was looking for a job. I was lucky that they took me in. I just ran around the kitchen, washing dishes - or breaking dishes - cleaning floors, moving boxes, peeling potatoes, carrots.

After four or five days, my father came looking for me. I was sort of scared of him, so I said, "If you touch me, I'm going to run and you'll never see me again." But he just said, " Your mother wanted to know how you were doing, and you know we love you, and you can come home any time." I said "No, I'd like to stay here and work. I want to do my own thing."

So that's how it started. Independance was my reward. I worked the whole summer and began to like the business, working around food. People were giving me a little money for tips because I was clearing the tables, setting them up, bringing bread and pouring wine. I felt needed; I felt strong. And suddenly I knew that this was what I wanted to do with my life.

Then I met a swiss couple, who said, "You should go to hotel school, because we have a nephew who went and he's travelling the world." When I heard those words - travelling the world - I went in search of everything I could to find a way to get into one of these schools. Then I found out that there were government sponsored courses, but you have to be 15 years old to get into them, and your parents have to approve.

So I had to be a good boy, go back home, finish my three years of regular school and then convince my father and mother to give their signatures so that I could enroll in the hotel course. They were still upset because I was not going to become a priest, but they saw that I wasn't going to change my mind. So my father and I took the train to Rome, he signed me into the school, gave me a little pocket money, and I was on my own.

The college for hotels teaches everything - languages, international services, all the terminology about cooking. You are trained in the kitchen, in the dining room, for room service, how to work the front desk, as concierge. During those three years, I was also sent to work in nice hotels in Grenoble and Geneva, returning to Rome from time to time to upgrade my courses. And I felt that I was really making progress. Everywhere I worked, people always wanted me back. The teachers from the school liked to use me for special events. When I expressed a wish to go to England, they recommended me to the Savoy in London. I was still under 20, and it was pretty exciting to be travelling on my own passport, with my own money, and having my own room.

Then, in 1967, I was working at the Hilton in London, England, and Expo '67 was opening in Montreal. The hotel sent a crew to Montreal because there was a shortage of staff there, and I came over to work at the Queen Elizabeth. There I met Alex Katz, who became the manager of the Hotel Vancouver, and after Expo he brought me to the city that was to become my adopted home.

My roommate in Montreal was also heading West, to work in a gold mine up north, and planned to take the train together across Canada because it was cheaper than flying. Before we left, he told me, "You know, we're going to the West, it's still dangerous, trains are still being attacked." So with my last money, I bought a cowboy hat and jeans and two guns with a leather holster - like Buffalo Bill's. After growing up watching movies about cowboys and Indians, I couldn't wait to get to the Wild West. I also bought a Yashica Super 8 camera to film the scenery, and especially the train attacks.

For days we rode through nothing but terrain. There lots of telephone poles but not a single buffalo and very few cows and horses. It was depressing. So when we arrived in Winnipeg, I got out at the station for a walk wearing my cowboy hat, my holster and guns, and a RCMP officer came up to me and said, "oh, my God, what are you doing?" When I told him my story - that I worked in the hotel business, I came from Italy, and I wanted to send a film back to my family and friends just in case the train was attacked by Indians and cowboys - he could not decide whether I was kidding or completely crazy. I can still remember the look on his face. Finally, he made me leave the guns but accepted my story and let me get back on the train. And all I had to show for the trip were sixteen rolls of flat prairie scenery, because by the time we reached the beautiful part, The Rockies, I had used up all my film.

It was in Vancouver that the world really opened up for me. By now, my constant wish was to have my own business. After working in the Hotel Vancouver for a while, I had the opportunity to buy into a delicatessen and coffee shop near the University of British Columbia. I started to do a bit of catering and began to meet people, make friends. I was doing everything - cooking, serving, making everybody laugh, kissing the ladies, acting like a nut. Someone from the University Club saw me and said "We need somebody like you, the Club is so stiff." So they brought me in as catering manager and I met even more people, customers I still have today.

But this time, I was determined to open a restaurant in Vancouver that truly represented Italian - especially Tuscan cuisine. At its best, Tuscany is synonymous with simplicity and freshness. There, food is thought of as "today," not "tomorrow." In Italy, the expression is: "If the garden offers us this, that's what we're going to eat today. If the market offers that, that's what we're going to have." "If you start with a carrot, it still has to taste like a carrot. So simplicity and freshness in the preparation, elegance and sophistication in the presentation, and friendliness and enjoyment in the atmosphere - these were my goals.

My partner and I were now operating a place in Gastown called Casanova. It was a nice Italian restaurant, but I had a more ambitious desire. Every day on my way to work, I would pass a little yellow house on the corner of Hornby and Pacific, and in my dreams it became my restaurant.

But just then, the bottom dropped out from everything. Casanova wasn't making enough money for two partners. I was broke, and my dream seemed farther away then ever. But always, an idea comes. With my last dollars, I phoned my sister in Italy - she had a small sweater factory - and said, "Send me all the sweaters you have that are in fashion in Italy. Put them on a plane. Don't ask me why. I'll pay you when I sell them. And keep sending them until I tell you to stop." Six weeks later, ten large boxes of sweaters arrived.

I took them straight to Woodward's department store. At first, the buyer wasn't interested in taking them, but I said, " Live with them for a few days. Take them on consignment. If they sell, pay me; if they don't, I'll take them back." Two weeks later, the store phoned me, they had sold all the sweaters and wanted more. Six months later, I had enough money to pay back my sister, put some in the bank and borrow enough to make an offer on my yellow dream house.

But by the time my first restaurant, Umberto's - the yellow house - opened, in 1973, I was broke again. Newspaper columnist Jack Wasserman had announced the opening in the Vancouver Sun, and by eight o'clock there was line-up of customers. When nothing seemed to be happening, they began to get impatient, even irritated. In the kitchen, I had only one piece of veal, a box of rack of lamb, a box of tortellini and some salad makings. No wine, no liquor, no choice of dishes. My friend Francesco Alongi, who was my only helper, asked me what I was going to do. At first, I froze. Then I took a deep breath, walked into the middle of the dining room and made my confession to the crowd.

"I'm sorry, but I'm unprepared for the evening. I have enough to feed you all, but the only choice is mine. If somebody, instead of getting aggravated, could go up to the liquor store and get a bunch of wine - we'll deal with it afterwards - let's have a party. I'll cook the same for everybody. And it will be good." And everybody said, "Great idea."

So while I was making tortelline alla panna and rack of lamb with a little salad, one of the guys goes out and comes back with five cases of Beaujolais, and the other guys serve, the ladies are all helping, everyone is getting into the act and having fun. There was an instant feeling of participation and a party mood.

At the end of the evening, they asked, "How much do we owe you? It was a great evening." I said, "Whatever you think it's worth." And everybody was writing generous cheques, not just for the value of the food but for the good time they had had.

In the following few days, the place became extremely busy and, being small, was booked solid all the time. Sometimes there were so many people I would tell them to wait in their cars and we would come and get them when a table was free, or we would bring them food. I can remember bringing a couple a piece of salami and some bread and a bottle of wine, saying, "Here's something to tide you over while you wait.

In three weeks, I went to the bank, repaid the loan and got another line of credit. Six months later, I bought myself a yellow Ferrari to match my first restaurant. From that day to this, I have opened many restaurants, and the rest is history.

In this book, I have gathered together recipes that reflect some of the memorable meals I have enjoyed with family and friends over the years. I have also tried to recapture moments involving my favorite food and memories of growing up in Tuscany. I invite you to share these memories with me.

For information on ordering a cookbook contact:

E-mail
Attention Umberto Management Ltd.
at inquire@umberto.comfor rates, availability
and reservations

Mail
Umberto Management Ltd.
103 - 1311 Howe Street
Vancouver, B.C., Canada
V6Z 2P3

Phone / Fax
Phone 604-669-3732
Fax 604-669-9723

Internet
http://www.umberto.com/




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