By James Banakis

March 21, 2025

I always enjoy telling restaurant stories because they are so relatable. Since the beginning of human existence, we have always gathered to share meals. Food has the power to bring people closer in so many ways. Whether it’s dates, breakups, business deals, reunions, or special occasions, dining has a way of creating memories. It has never been lost on me that as a restaurateur, I nurture people, and hopefully send them on their way satisfied and restored. I’ve always felt that restaurants are cornerstones of the community they serve.

When neighborhood gathers, good things can transpire. Which reminds me of a story my cousin, and treasured friend Al Coulolias told me about his father. Al and I became close many years ago when he was a partner in the Bruss Meat Company. He became one of my suppliers and good-naturedly taught me the particulars of the meat industry.

I still call him to ask about steak recommendations. Of all his charming traits, Al is a brilliant and entertaining conversationist and raconteur. Our ancestors started their American experiences as restaurant owners, and more specifically, candy makers. While we didn’t really get to know each other until we were both in our early 30’s, we grew up with so many common friends and family members. We both enjoy sharing stories of all these people coming from our personal perspective. It’s the feeling you might get from someone showing you a wonderful old family photograph you have never seen. It becomes a gift enclosed in a memory shared.

Al loves everything about food, and like so many of my closest friends he has what I call picture-perfect food memory and taste. For example, if we are discussing “club sandwiches,” Al might say the best he ever had was at the Bellagio in Las Vegas. Not in the main dining room, but in the open space between the casino and the showroom. He is always very specific and would go on to describe it in delectable detail. The uniqueness of the bread and all the unusual ingredients, and surprising side options.

Most of my closest friends are good at this, I’ve been known to book impromptu trips with them just to try the item they described.  Once a friend gave me a newspaper article about a bagel maker in the Bronx who created a hybrid bagel and croissant. We were on a flight to New York the next morning.

I’ve spent a lifetime chasing food ideas. Sometimes, they became reimagined menu items, sometimes new restaurants, and sometimes just amusing wild goose pate pursuits.

Al and I are so adept at food research, we can reach back to our childhoods to describe a stew’s aroma one of our aunts might have made and wonder how we might create it without a recipe. We might not be able to exactly recall what grade our grandchildren are in, but we can recall a memorable meal in delicious detail from 40 years ago.

I remember once Al and I were discussing sweet corn as we drove through Wisconsin. Al said he read once that the silky strands in an ear of corn were equal to the exact number of kernels in each ear. I remember thinking that most people listening to that conversation would try to stop the car and escape. I found it fascinating. It made us hungry, and we stopped to buy sweet corn at a farm stand. I don’t know if it was our conversation or that we developed an appetite, but that was the best sweet corn I ever ate. The farmer said it was just picked and at the optimum ripeness. He said to cook it as soon as possible, as the low starch content was at its peak. He was right. If you happen to be the type of person who eats to live, and is bored by food, we probably wouldn’t be close friends.

Throughout the years, whether sharing a golf cart, or me driving his boat way too fast on Lake Geneva, or on a road trip to find the perfect coffee cake, Al’s stories have delighted me. I’ll share one of my favorites with you.

Al’s father Philip (he spelled it with one L) grew up in the tiny Greek village of Selimma. Only 12 years old he traveled alone to Tunisia to find work. He worked as a delivery boy for the merchant marines who would dock at port. It was there that he became “kitchen fluent” in at least 4 languages. At this point in the story, both Al and I had to pause and marvel together at what courage or desperation it took to attempt and accomplish such folly. We imagined the portions of the story that Philip experienced and never shared with anyone.

Today I worry when my teenage granddaughters go to Oak Brook Mall alone. As I write this, I’m reminded of extraordinary “Palikari Project,” tapes chronicling John Kass’ father’s own story of his life that encapsulated all the horrors of war and redemption in the mid-20th century. These tapes are available to you as part of your subscription to John Kass News. I found them riveting, heartwarming, and well worth your time.

Back to Philip’s journey. After five years working in exotic early 20^th century Tunisia sending home most of his earnings, Philip made his way to the United States. Romantically, I like to think he hopped one of the ships in port. Al wasn’t sure, but I’m recounting this story, so that’s what I’m imaging. He chose to settle in Chicago. Many of us think, “Why did our ancestors settle in Chicago when they may have gone to San Diego?” The answer was opportunity.

Chicago was the fastest growing city in the world at the time. Philip settled in the western suburbs and worked in restaurants, candy shops, and grocery stores. He saved all his

money and perfected his English. It seemed to me that he had an aptitude for language.

In the 1920’s, he invested everything in a candy shop that evolved into a café. He made a variety of excellent dipped chocolates sold by the pound or in boxes, in the style of Fanny Mae today. Beginning in the late 19^th candy makers added soda fountains, and short order restaurant items. “The Melrose Park Confectionary” had a limited menu serving a basic breakfast, a soda fountain, hamburgers, hot and cold ham and roast beef sandwiches, soups, ice cream, and pies.

Philip concentrated on the candy making and customer relations. He was lost in the kitchen. He had a prep cook who handled that aspect of the business. The prep cook  would arrive at the restaurant at dawn and prepare the hams and roast beef. He would then set up the kitchen, wash and cut the produce and prepare the soups. He also received the deliveries from the bread man, the pie man, the milkman etc. There was also one grill man and one waitress, Josephine. The rest of our story takes place during the Great Depression.

The confectionary was located on the same street as the local bank. Unlike today, banks employed many people. They were bustling centers of commerce. Philip’s business was dependent on feeding all the small community’s business owners and their employees. The officers of the bank were among his best customers. They grew fond of Philip, advised him on financial matters, and encouraged him to purchase shares of stock in the bank.

Philip didn’t really understand completely the ins and outs of the stock market but not wanting to offend his insistent bank regulars he gave them most of his hard-earned savings and in return received certificates. Thinking he had placated the bankers; he was despondent when three months later they insisted he buy more stock.

He bought more certificates feeling he had no choice and filed them away. This went on for two more years. His business as well as the entire country struggled through the worst business cycle ever.

One morning the prep cook arrived and put a huge piece of roast beef in the oven, attended to a few of his chores and disappeared, never to be seen again. During the lunch rush, the short order cook yelled back for more roast beef. No response. Philip and Josephine went back in the kitchen and found a used apron crumpled on the floor. In restaurants this is the universal symbol for, “I quit.” Together they pulled the hopelessly overdone roast out of the oven. When they attempted to slice it with the large knife, it just shredded and fell apart. Philip panicked and despairing because the beef was by far the most expensive item in his inventory. It was also their most popular lunch item.

Trying to salvage an apparently helpless situation, Josephine grabbed a cleaver and started to chop up the beef. To moisten it she poured on lots of catsup, mustard, oil, vinegar, syrup, spices, like a mad, desperate scientist. She loaded it into a large pan and brought to the line cook and told him to serve it instead of the usual roast beef sandwich. Josephine explained to the customers that they had something a little different on the menu that day. Josephine had inadvertently created a BBQ beef sandwich, and the regulars loved it. BBQ prematurely and accidentally arrived in Melrose Park. As they left, the customers encouraged Philip to keep the new item on the menu. He was shocked and confused. He lost his prep cook. He thought he could never replicate the mystery meat, and the bankers kept badgering him to purchase more stock certificates. Sharing his despair, Josephine volunteered to come in in the morning and prep.

The next day, Philip was pleasantly surprised to find out that Josephine was organized and an accomplished cook. She even replicated the BBQ beef. Slowly over the next months, Josephine expanded the menu with new and more inventive dishes creating a dinner menu. Josephine’s BBQ beef became a signature item. Melrose Park Confectionary matured and became busy and successful. Eternally grateful, Philip rewarded Josephine with a highly prominent role in the business.

Now we all know for every immigrant there’s a story, but I’m especially fond of this story because I’ve experienced it time and again throughout my career. Bright and motivated employees have always astonished me with innovation and creativity. All you need to do is trust them, backoff and give them the freedom to demonstrate their ideas. Let them know

that mistakes are a learning process, not a catastrophe, and thank them, promote them, and reward them for their efforts. The most fulfilling part of my career has always been developing people. It’s the only way you can expand a business and grow. If you’re hesitant to trust people in business, your ceiling is a one-man hot dog stand.

In time the bankers stopped asking Philip to purchase stock and began showing up giving him more stock because it began to split and increased in value. As the depression ebbed everyone’s business expanded. Philip, just wanting to help and cherish his customers, unintentionally enriched himself. In time, Philip used his investment in the bank to open a new, modern bowling alley near North Avenue.

The exciting new business was partially financed by the bank. Give Philip credit for building trusting relationships with his customers. The best deals in life have always been the ones where everyone wins. What began as a conversation Al, and I had talking about our fathers

uncovered this heartwarming story. It’s an example of a small sliver of the American dream and how it used to work. It makes me long for that much simpler era.

Today government controls on banks and business, wage controls, lawsuits, and inflationary policies make expanding a business maddening. Politicians promote free stuff. Small local business is under assault. Despite this I remain optimistic. Our American culture has always proven to be adaptable, inventive, and cyclical. We’ve always created people like Andrew Carnegie, Steve Jobs, and Elon Musk not because were lucky, but because we’re a people who appreciate dreamers and winners.

Every business most of us remember and hold dear in this country began with a Philip and a Josephine, and the people of the community who believed in them. It’s the simple philosophy that developed into the miracle of America. That philosophy of happiness and opportunity which is gifted to all of us compliments of our founding principles, and core values.

Socialism never took root in America because the poor see themselves not as an exploited proletariat but as temporarily embarrassed millionaires. -John Steinbeck

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Jimmy Banakis is a life-long restaurateur.  He was an honorary batboy for the White Sox in 1964. He attended Oak Park River Forest High School, Nebraska Wesleyan University, and Chicago-Kent Law School.  He claims the kitchen is the room he’s most comfortable in anywhere in the world. He published an extremely limited-edition family cookbook. He’s a father and grandfather, and lives in Downers Grove Il.