Talking 'the Avenue' with Lynn Rinaldi
Lynn Rinaldi grew up on "the Avenue." Then she helped save it as a restaurant pioneer whose Paradiso (and later Izumi, the sushi bar she co-owns with husband and chef Corey Baver) helped spark a dining resurgence.
Lynn Rinaldi grew up on "the Avenue." Then she helped save it as a restaurant pioneer whose Paradiso (and later Izumi, the sushi bar she co-owns with husband and chef Corey Baver) helped spark a dining resurgence that has become the East Passyunk Avenue phenomenon. It has been only a decade since she and her father put the finishing touches on their rehab of a former furniture store.
But it seems like a lifetime to those who've watched the street flourish into the city's hottest restaurant district.
Rinaldi, 50, paused from her pasta-cranking, tripe-braising routine to talk about her neighborhood, the work ethic of immigrant parents, conquering challenges as a novice restaurateur, and the rewards of a roof garden.
You're about as local as it gets, right?
I grew up at 12th Street and Tasker. I have a twin brother [Stephen] and three older brothers ... and we used to just walk "the Avenue" in the summer time. We had this same route. We'd get chocolate water ice and mozzarella from Mr. Mancuso (a small ball would cost 25 cents), we'd go over to Snyder, and I wasn't allowed past that point.
I don't know what it was with South Philly moms, but we all had borders. You weren't allowed to go on the other side of Broad Street, except with her, because grandmom Nancy "Nunzia" Vetrone lived on Chadwick Street. We'd go to her house to watch the Flyers, because our side of Broad didn't have cable in the early '70s.
Both of your parents are Italian. Which one do you take after?
My mom [Lucia "Lucille"] is Abruzzese, and my dad, Daniel, is from Calabria. I'm probably more like him because he slept only four hours a night, since he had two jobs. He'd work from 11 p.m. to the morning as a brakeman for Conrail, come home, shower, and then go to his other job as a drywall finisher. Everyone still knows him as "Danny Spackles."
Did he Spackle Paradiso?
Yes. But when my father first walked into the space (the old Bob's Arcade), he literally walked out and said: "Good luck with that. . . . You're out of your mind. Do you know how much work needs to be done?"
It was scary. I wasn't looking for a restaurant that size at first. But then, he was there every day with the subcontractor, him and his three buddies, the geriatric crew. Seriously. They're old school. They drink wine and beer for lunch.
When you finally opened in 2004, did you know East Passyunk would become such a vibrant restaurant hub?
I was hopeful. It was my neighborhood. And it's become exactly what I'd hoped it would be. But there were just a handful of businesses open on the block then . . . and I had a panic attack just when we were about to open. That first year was a little overwhelming. But then I started to get my groove, making my own pasta and salumi. I matured.
What advice helped the most?
Don't sweat the small stuff. I hired a woman to clean the restaurant, and when she left, I'd go downstairs and clean it again. There are so many variables in a restaurant you can control, and some you can't. There are going to be footprints on the floor. So get your head back into the kitchen where it belongs.
What excites you most as a chef now?
I get excited when I see the seasons change. I start buying seeds because I have a garden on the roof - nine boxes up there and three beehives with the Phila Bee Co. Especially now, I'm so over with winter. I'm looking forward to working with fava beans, peas, asparagus, and incorporating them into the menu and changing the pastas. We go up on the roof, plant what we want: radishes, great shishitos, cardoons for frying (I also like them pureed). It's almost an oasis ... and it's fun when you see your strawberry patch arrive.
You've survived well based on my recent revisit. But is all the new competition good?
Every time a restaurant opens, you feel a little hit. It's so different now than 10 years ago - especially with social media. Back then, you had to wait for the food critic to come and review you. Now, everybody runs to a new restaurant the second it opens because it's blasted all over the place. . . . But do I love having 39 other restaurants around me now? Yes! I'd never again want it to be just me and one other person on the other block. You want neighbors. Because, hey, their customers might walk into your place one day and say, "We should try this one next time."
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@CraigLaBan