NY Times is reporting that Laura Maioglio has died. The website for her restaurant Barbetta says they will close at the end of February. An impressive run - she led the restaurant for more than 60 years.
Side note, we can chalk up another “I never got to” recommendation from Arthur Schwartz. Not sure how many here were listening to AM radio in the '90s but definitely a place I wanted to get to.
I went to a party there. The couple booked out the entire restaurant.
They were passing around little toasts with a dollop of caviar, all arranged on a plate. The waiter passed the plate to me, intending that I would take one toast.
Clueless me, I though he was giving me the plate, with about 8 of those little toasts on it…
That’s what I remember about Barbetta, apart from the fact that it was one of the classy long-running landmarks.
The waiter kind of laughed at me and said something like..“Ok, great..if you want them all…” So yes, I took the whole plate but when I look back on this now I realize how lame I was… But they were very tasty!! I think they were sevruga. And I remember that the pour was Dom Perignon! This was an anniversary party for my parents’ friends, who were not rich, by any means, but he liked to make a big splash…
I had dinner with Blobel at Barbetta in 1984 (he was recruiting me to his lab though I didn’t accept). It was the first time I had veal carpaccio with extra virgin olive oil. . Former mayor John Lindsay was seated alone at the next table.
It might be that not everyone was game to try the caviar, so maybe the waiter thought what the heck? In the early years of the Rowland Instiute, the director (Edwin Land) ordered a 500g tin of Petrossian ossetra for the Christmas party. Of the 25 or so employees at the time, only three of us touched the caviar (Land of course was one).
about 30 years ago, i was working on a big soap opera piece. barbetta was a favorite of the late headwriter, douglas marland, so got to take a group of soap journalists on the publication’s dime.
Land could be generous. When working late on a project he would sometimes call for a dinner break. One evening he suggested Casa Romero, a Mexican restaurant in Boston’s Back Bay. He drove and sent one of us in to inquire about a table. Told by the hostess the restaurant was fully booked for the evening, the scout told her “Dr. Land will be dissappointed”. Suddenly a table materialized.
My mentor claimed to be the best chef in Cambridge. While he brought tasty items to the occasional lab potluck, I was dubious. Until I read his memoir and discovered he did a stage at Il Buli.
