By James Banakis

December 20, 2024FF

If you Google, “What is Chicago famous for?’ The second entry after architecture is deep dish pizza. Not the first self-sustaining nuclear chain reaction, ushering in the Atomic Age. Not the first skyscraper, changing the cities of the world forever. Not mail-order retail, which has morphed into Amazon. Not even Michael Jordon or Al Capone, serving as our international celebrities. We’re famous for something most of us don’t eat very often if at all.

When I mentioned to our friend John Kass that I was writing about deep dish pizza, he gagged and referred to it as a cheese sandwich with tomato soup thrown over the top. There was a time in my life when I enjoyed it, but that was when I had the little lady who invented it and personally made it for me with love.

Lettuce Entertain You, since 1971, has created some of the most iconic and beloved restaurant concepts in America. The company has been the backbone of the Chicago dining culture. I know. I was involved in all the creative, delicious, thrilling, rewarding, and amusing interworking’s of that company for 25 years beginning in the late 1970’s. I only have a treasury of fond memories from that experience. I’d like to share one of those with you.

One of the principles of the Lettuce mission is to create restaurants, not purchase them. However, when the retiring owners of the venerable Gino’s East Pizza approached Rich Melman, he was unable to resist. All of us had warm remembrances of deep-dish pizza as the go- to date night option in high school and college. It was relatively inexpensive. It was easy to get a pitcher of beer, and a piping hot pizza, and not always need to present ID’s.

For some reason, remembering back to those days, I was always there on a cold winter night. The restaurant was always warm and comforting.

The pizza took 45 minutes to prepare so you always had time to discuss the movie you just saw at the Esquire. The original and ancient three-story building with a full dining room on the first floor and in the basement, from all accounts, was being held together by the Neiman Marcus store which surrounded it.

The old building now demolished leaned noticeably. The original owners refused to sell or move when the Dallas retailer set up shop on Michigan Ave., so they built around them. Gino’s East became one of my projects. Our ambitious plan was to implement our systems in the restaurant on Superior and the expand first to the suburbs, and then nationally.

In one of my favorite films, Mediterraneo, a 1991 comedy film about a small group of Italian soldiers sent to an unimportant Greek island during WWII. The soldiers become absorbed in the life and landscape of the idyllic island and forget there is a war raging around them. It’s sort of a modern adaptation of the Odessey. When I saw the film, it reminded me of my experience at Gino’s East.

I arrived to instill the Lettuce culture and systems and while we did update the systems, I became engaged and immersed in their culture. I found out that it was too much fun and intoxicating. The first thing I found out was that it was a very maternal environment.

The leader of the whole operation was a soft spoken, charming, elegant woman named Alice Mae Redmond. I knew right away that it was Alice’s Restaurant. She hired and trained all the cooks and back of the house personnel. Most of them were women related to her. She oversaw 2 kitchens that ran flawlessly, and efficiently.

Alice was loving and spiritual. She was wise and I was willingly captured into her orbit. Alice Mae, who I would call Alice or Mae, and not Alice Mae migrated to Chicago in the early 1940’s from Mississippi. She began her pizza career with Ric Riccardo in 1944 at his restaurant called Pizzeria later to be renamed Pizzeria Uno. Riccardo’s pizza was baked in a pan but was just a sad combination which ended up flat and lifeless.

Alice went to work recreating it into her version. She told me that someone had to fix it. The dough was too elastic and would not adhere to the pan. Here’s the most amazing part of the story. Alice used her grandmother’s biscuit recipe to create her famous dough. Once she told me it all made sense.

There was a slight hint of sweet, and a moistness that will forever make me think of biscuits with butter slathered on top. Now Alice was able to easily able to build the crust up to the top of the pan. The recipe was simple, but the secret was a generous amount of butter and olive oil. This gave the dough a rich, crumbly, buttery finish. She added egg shade to give it a golden color. Sorry, no corn meal as many customers have guessed. The finished dough was left to proof and cut into dough balls. She then, methodically, pressed the dough ball into the round 3-inch-deep pan by hand.

I made my first Gino’s pizza at her side. On that first pizza she had me apply what she termed “love” but were pats of butter on top of the dough. If you’re concerned about calories continue reading at your own risk. The butter was Alice’s personal touch by request only. We purchased all our pizza ingredients from Anichini Bros. Quality Meats and Provisions, in business on Wells St since 1920.

The next ingredient was the unique Mancuso mozzarella, a drier, nutty flavored cheese, sliced and layered generously over the dough. On sausage pizzas Alice would apply a full layer of Anichini special ground recipe. Any other ingredients were next, finished with crushed tomatoes, and sprinkled with grated parmesan. The pans then were placed in large, hot deck ovens for 40-45 minutes.

For the first 20 years, Alice’s concoction was known as “pizza in the pan.” All varieties of pizza exploded in popularity in the 1950’s. Most Chicagoans enjoyed the thin crust neighborhood variety. My neighborhood favorite was Armand’s. Pizza in the pan was served at Uno’s and Due’s in River North. In the mid 1960’s three cab driver pizza owners–the men who owned the Gino’s East pizzeria–convinced Alice Mae to work with them at Gino’s East on Superior St.

In 1971, Lou Malnati, whose father Rudy was the manager at Uno’s brought his own version of Alice’s recipe to Lincolnwood Illinois. Deep dish pizza remained primarily in River North, and never really took hold in the suburbs.

On Gino’s menu, their pizza with everything on it is labeled the “Supreme.” One day at an employee meal & meeting, Alice walked in with her kitchen staff following single file. There was a Motown song playing on the restaurant sound system. I announced in jest, “Ladies and gentlemen, Alice Mae & the Supremes!” This, a reference to the popular singing group, Diana Ross and the Supremes.

 

Alice and the ladies loved it, and from then on, the lady pizza makers were the “Supremes.” One afternoon, a news film crew was filming one of the ladies making a pizza. The reporter asked for the cook’s name, and then asked what her position was. She replied with a slight smile, “I’m one of the Supremes.” I was off camera and started laughing.

The 1980’s were the high point of deep-dish popularity. There were long lines down Superior St. throughout the day and night. {insert photo} Our first attempt to open Gino’s East in the suburbs was a success in Rolling Meadows. We then became cocky. The very popular song at the time was sung by Frank Sinatra, New York, New York. Remember the line, “If you can make it there, you can make it anywhere.” Well, we decided to open a Gino’s East on Long Island. In the belly of the beast.

The restaurant was a perfect design with 5 extra tables in the kitchen for those that were interested in watching us make the pizzas. Anyone sitting in the kitchen were rewarded with free samples of whatever we were preparing at the time. I was so proud of myself. We hired a wonderful staff and brought some of the Supremes to train the kitchen staff. The staff was anxious to sample our famous Chicago style.

Once we fired up the kitchen the Supremes produced what may be the most perfect deep-dish pizzas ever. Once the dishes of pizza were handed out to the waiting staff there was silence. Then someone asked,

“Is this the way it’s supposed to taste?” I knew right then and there we were in big trouble. The restaurant never stood a chance. We closed in 6 months. We found out we couldn’t make it there and that we probably wouldn’t be able to make it anywhere except Chicago.

We found out that tourists would come to Chicago and stand in long lines to sample Alice’s creation, but not want it in their hometowns.

I consider myself fortunate to have met and worked with so many legends in the hospitality industry. Alice was one of the true great ones. She was the reluctant celebrity who created the second most important thing Chicago is famous for. There are those who think deep-dish is really a casserole and much more related to lasagna than pizza. I can’t think about it and not think of Alice’s Mississippi grandmother’s biscuits, and the unassuming granddaughter who made culinary history.

-30-

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.

---

Merchandise Now Available: If you’re looking for that Christmas or holiday gift for that hard-to-buy for special someone who has everything, just click on the link to the johnkassnews.com store.

Where else would you find a No Chumbolone™ cap or a Chicago Way™ coffee cup?

Because I know this about you: You’re not a Chumbolone.