Episode 1 recap: That’s Not Red Ink, It’s Marinara.

[Lucy]

Hi, and welcome! I’m Lucy, and I’ll be your server this evening. How many in your party? Smoking or nonsmoking? Oh, right, this is New York. Never mind.
Obviously NBC thought we hadn’t had enough of celebrity chef Rocco DiSpirito, his Mama, and his drama. So he’s back for a second season. Now, I must confess, I didn’t watch the first season of The Restaurant. Why? Because it bored me. So my only qualifications to be your recapper this season are that I have waited tables myself. In fact, I think everyone should have to wait tables at some point in their lives. It teaches you humility. For example, my third day on the job at one restaurant, I accidentally tipped a glass of ice water down the back of a customer’s neck. Humility was just one of many emotions I felt. Humility doesn’t seem to be a big vocabulary word in Rocco’s restaurant, though.
Luckily for me, there’s a whirlwind recap of the last season, in which Rocco opened Rocco’s 22, a restaurant in New York. Apparently several people were fired or quit with mucho drama, and something caught on fire. Ok, I’m caught up. Flash forward six months, and waiters throwing hissy fits are the least of Rocco’s problems. His financier, Jeffrey Chodorow, is upset that the restaurant is losing money, and is about to intervene. Rocco, meanwhile, appears to subscribe to the ostrich theory of restaurant management – i.e., he sticks his head in the sand. Actually, Rocco’s management style is more, “leave the restaurant while I go sign autographs and flirt with pretty girls.” I think that’s a graduate course at business school. It looks fairly successful, though; Rocco tells us his is one of the busiest restaurants in the city. Um, surely the nationwide TV exposure had nothing to do with that. No, it’s all due to the meatballs.

Where’s Rocco?
We join the action during dinner rush. Rocco’s Mama – her name is Nicolina, by the way -- is signing autographs, kissing babies, and otherwise behaving like she’s running for office. But, something is amiss! Rocco is AWOL. Oddly, customers keep noticing this. I know I’ve never gone to a restaurant and wondered where the owner was. Because I never care who the owner is. I’m probably eating in sub-par establishments. Anyway, the fact that customers want to meet Rocco further suggests that the busy-ness of the restaurant has more to do with the celebrity status Rocco has cultivated than the actual quality of the place.

And speaking of cultivating celebrity, that’s exactly what Rocco is off doing. He’s flogging his new book in some kitchen sort of place, which I think is in Macy’s, because it says “Macy’s” on the wall behind him. There’s a big oogly-googly crowd of women, and Rocco is praising his sainted Mama. He says she’s had a “rebirth” since coming to work for him. It’s restaurant therapy.

Meanwhile, Jeffrey is riding in a limo, talking on his cell phone, telling someone that he’s gone through the numbers for Rocco’s 22 and it doesn’t look good. He wants to meet with his task force in the morning. Ominous music sounds. Ok, maybe it doesn’t. But it should.

Back at Cult Rocco, the man himself has raced off to a TV show, where he’s plugging his new cookbook. The bland hostess calls it “pornography for cooks.” Now, there’s an image I could have done without. Because I’m thinking bad things about the blender attachments. And I know I’m not the only one. You pervs.
Naturally, back at the restaurant, everyone’s still looking for Rocco. Are you getting that this will be a theme?

Do You Remember That One Place Where We Had That Drink That Time?
Rocco has decided to bring a chef friend over from Italy for a couple of weeks. So he and his girlfriend, Yvonne, are off to the airport to fetch him. Yvonne, I must say, doesn’t seem like the brightest bulb. Rocco tries to remind her of where they met this chef. Remember? Remember when they ate at that one restaurant in Italy? “Oh, where we did the wine tasting?” Yvonne asks. Ding ding ding! We have a winner. Although, I’ve got to say, my expectation of visiting Italy is that the wine-tastings would all blend together. Because they would be many. That is, if I visit Italy AGAIN. I went once. With my mother. Not so much with the wine-tastings, my mother. Italy was wasted on her. And, evidently, on the vacuous Yvonne.

The Italian chef arrives, to the din of Yvonne yelling “Ciao!”. His name is Antonio, but alas, he goes by Tony. So does the regular chef. So instead of getting everyone all confused about the Tony’s, I hereby decree the Italian Tony is going by Antonio. Just so we’re all on the same page.
Anyway, it turns out Antonio has never been to America before. It also turns out that Rocco’s birthday is coming up. And, in a startling turn of events, people in the restaurant are still wondering where Rocco is.


Nothing Says Success Like a Moped
Now, Jeffrey and his group manage 22 restaurants. Of all those, Rocco’s, it appears, is the only one losing money. It’s losing money to the tune of $600,000. With that figure ringing in our heads, we’re whisked off to watch Rocco and Antonio zoom around Manhattan on a moped. Is it a moped? Maybe it’s a scooter. I prefer “moped,” because it sounds more like how this little ride looks – silly.

So while Rocco shows Antonio the sights of Manhattan from a moped, Jeffrey and his crack team of restaurant wizards are reviewing the restaurant’s books, trying to figure out why they’re smeared in red. And it ain’t marinara sauce. A dude in a suit – Scott, if anyone cares – says the management part of the payroll is unusually high. Jeffrey explains that he hasn’t spoken to Rocco in months – probably since the last season stopped filming – and that the relationship is strained. Jeffrey has tried to stay away and let Rocco run the restaurant the way Rocco wants to. But since Rocco appears intent on running the restaurant into the ground, it’s time for Jeffrey – and the camera crews – to step back in. Or, as Jeffrey so eloquently puts it, “It’s time to, you know, get serious about this.” Yes. We know.

The rest of the task force wonders how Rocco will handle their interference. Will he cooperate? Or throw a fit? Gee, I wonder. If he cooperated, we wouldn’t have a show here, would we? Moped shots can carry a show only so far.

Luke, the corporate chef, says something. I don’t know what it is, but I bring up Luke to make a point. First, isn’t “corporate chef” somewhat of an oxymoron? I recognize there’s a difference between “chef” and “cook” and that that difference mostly involves “culinary school” versus “learning how to deep-fry blooming onions.” But I have a theory that there is a Cook personality, and that it’s an anti-establishment personality that wouldn’t want anything to do with anything “corporate.” In my experience, Cooks are always the grungy guys, the ones who know the lyrics to obscure Lynard Skynard and Metallica songs, the ones who smoke quantities of pot, who under their aprons dress like they’re going to a Phish concert, who taught themselves guitar and can play licks – but not the whole thing – from Allman Brothers’ songs. But they have a certain danger and charm that makes them attractive, even when they have beer bellies and dredlocks and a three-day beard.
I’m not really getting that Cook vibe from Corporate Chef Luke. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s wearing chef whites in a boardroom, as if at any minute he could be called upon for an emergency filleting. Ok, I lie. He’s wearing a bandanna and looks dangerous. He’s kinda hot.

Ahem. Back to the action. Jeffrey says that Rocco has always been very resistant to the financial group’s involvement, but he needs to make Rocco understand that the money is Jeffrey’s and the staff work for him. Jeffrey wants to set up a dinner at the restaurant itself, so the task force can watch what’s going on while discussing the problem.
“It’s a very busy restaurant, we’re losing money and that’s got to stop.”

Ah, Yes. A Cuisinart. Of Course.
Back at the restaurant, a new girl has been hired and is being debriefed on her duties. She thought she was being hired as a hostess, but it turns out she’s to be a coat check girl. Swallowing what is obviously a strenuous objection to being a coat check girl, she asks where she’ll be stationed. Answer? “In the coat check room.” Luckily, coat-checking doesn’t require a lot of mental acuity. And no, I have no idea how any of this is relevant to anything, but I thought I’d better mention it in case it crops up later on.
Rocco and Antonio arrive – via moped, of course – and head for the kitchen to spice up the menu and make the life of old chef Tony a living hell. Rocco praises Antonio’s cooking as “off the hook.” That’s “fuori del gancio” in Italian. Doesn’t quite have the same ring, does it?

Rocco also shows Antonio his pans, which Rocco evidently designed himself. “It looks like a professional line, but it’s obviously not,” Rocco says. If it’s so obvious, how does it look anything like a professional line? Anyway, we see various scenes of Antonio making himself at home while Tony scowls. Antonio starts cooking and demands a “frullatore.” A what? A frullatore. “Ah, yes yes yes,” says Rocco. “A Cuisinart.” Actually, according to Babelfish, the Italian for “Cuisinart” is – “Cuisinart.” But the English for “frullatore” is “mixer.” And, in case anyone needs to know, the Italian for “I need a drink” is “Ho bisogno di una bevanda.”
In the Cuisinart, much chopping of things ensues, a meal is eventually made, and Tony still looks disgruntled.

I Always Have Business Meetings At My Mama’s House
Rocco is intercepted by his personal assistant, Diana, who tells him Jeffrey wants a meeting. Rocco sets it for Mama’s apartment. Why, I don’t know. But if I had lost $600,000 of anyone’s money, I wouldn’t be meeting them in my mother’s house. I would meet them in a public place, where their ability to break my kneecaps would be severely hampered. Also, I don’t know why Rocco needs a personal assistant.
Jeffrey is informed that the meeting will be held in Mama’s apartment, and he is clearly bemused by Rocco’s choice of location. “For backup?” Jeffrey asks. I actually think Mama could take Jeffrey.

In preparation for the first meeting he’s had in months with his financier, Rocco is chopping up crabs. They appear to be live. Or, they appear that way briefly. Before they become minced crab.
Jeffrey says there are just two things to do with a restaurant that’s not making money: close it or fix it. Or chop it to death. Oh, not an option? Damn.

Like, Did He Give Rocco a Wedgie?
Jeffrey and Rocco slip into Mama’s apartment and shut the door on the camera, so we go back down to the restaurant, where the staff is preparing for dinner. Shane, the floor manager, reminds them that Big VIP Jeffrey is dining there tonight, and introduces Amanda the Coat Check Girl. I still don’t see how she’s relevant. Back upstairs, the meeting’s over and Jeffrey leaves shaking his head. Evidently Rocco’s response to “You’re bleeding half a million dollars out of this restaurant” was “No comment.” Jeffrey doesn’t know how to respond to that.

Rocco is saying considerably more to Laurent, the general manager, to whom he explains that Jeffrey is threatening to take over the restaurant. Laurent smokes and looks sympathetic. Rocco says he and Jeffrey each own 50 percent of the restaurant, so neither one of them can launch a coup and take it over. He adds that Jeffrey’s a big bully who pushed him down in the school yard and took his lunch money. Rocco says the restaurant’s packed every day. They have to run it together. Which I guess he does by signing books and riding a moped. Jeffrey tells us he likes Rocco – putting him in a distinct minority -- but business is business. “Now it’s time to, like, do business.” Like, cool, dude.

Jeffrey tells Laurent – geez, doesn’t Laurent get to hear all the good gossip? – that he wants a staff meeting the next afternoon.
“People think a busy restaurant is a successful restaurant,” Jeffrey says. “But a busy restaurant is only a busy restaurant.” That’s kind of like how a man who talks all the time isn’t necessarily saying anything wise, isn’t it?

Undermine and Up Yours
Jeffrey and his posse have arrived for dinner, and word sweeps the restaurant like wildfire. The only person who doesn’t appear to know Jeffrey is there is Rocco, who is in a limo asking someone to bring him his blue corduroy jacket. Because obviously he must have his blue corduroy jacket to work in his restaurant, right? Wrong. He must have it to sign his book for a gaggle of silicone-enhanced women.

While Rocco is flirting with his fans, the kitchen is a veritable beehive of activity. Out in the front of the house, Jeffrey asks waitress Carrie to get him a vodka. Carrie, who obviously didn’t fall off the prep line yesterday, asks if he had a hard day. Jeffrey informs her he had a meeting with Rocco. Now, some might suggest that if Jeffrey wants the restaurant to be successful with Rocco at its helm, he might want to avoid undermining him with the staff. Because Jeffrey has to know what Carrie is going to do next. She is going to order his vodka and spent five minutes telling every staff person around that Jeffrey met with Rocco today and whatever happened, it induced Jeffrey to need a drink. But whether it’s smart business or just skeezy, I would suggest Jeffrey knows exactly what he’s doing. Alas, skeezy is the same in Italian.

At any rate, Jeffrey has managed to win over Carrie. She says Rocco opened the restaurant with a big party and then left his mama to mop it up. While she breathlessly reports every word back to the staff, Jeffrey’s table assesses the restaurant’s dire financial straits. Here’s a rundown: Rocco’s taking a salary, even though Jeffrey put up double what he originally promised. Rocco’s business cards cost $9,000 for 5,000 cards, meaning they cost $1.80 a pop. It’s obvious the restaurant is busy, so they plot to bring an army of consultants to figure out why that isn’t translating into profit.
The Jeffrey table takes a break from Rocco-bashing when Mama DiSpirito comes over to the table. Mama, it appears, is clueless about her son’s conflict with his money-man. And while Jeffrey doesn’t want to tell her, he sure wants to hint about it. “Mama, I love YOU,” he says pointedly. After she leaves, he adds, “I’m sure Rocco’s telling her I’m the worst thing since Mussolini.”

Meanwhile, Rocco is having a high old time at his book-signing. All the women want to flirt and take his picture and sit on his lap. And he’s not even Santa Claus. “You’re such a bad girl,” he says to one. “You can’t be such a bad girl.” Yes she could, if only she had those blender attachments.

We’re Going to Hate This Little Snot
At this point, I’m going to go ahead and introduce Drew, who I’m sure we will all come to know and hate, because we’re supposed to. He’s an intern who got the job because his parents are friends with Jeffrey. So far his sole talent seems to involve dramatically rolling his eyes at the astronomical debt mounting up from the restaurant. But evidently that’s in high demand with Jeffrey, because Drew is going to be stationed at the restaurant for the next couple of weeks. I’m not sure what his duties are supposed to be, but it sounds like they will entail finger-pointing, button-pushing and up-in-other-people’s-business-getting.

Drew wants to know what his boundaries are. If he sees someone not doing their job, can he say something? If this boy has washed a dish or served a rack of ribs in his life, I will crap and fall back in it out of shock. So I don’t know how he’s going to know whether anyone’s doing their job. Drew says his specialty is problem-solving on the spot. “I’m very operational. I’m all about positive reinforcement.” This kid can’t be more than 23. How in the world does he have a specialty beyond doing kegstands and spouting buzz words?

Drew also yammers a bit about respect, and how if Rocco respects him, he’ll respect Rocco. Anyone with the IQ of a gnat – Drew, perhaps – can see that Rocco is not going to respect him. Who would respect an arrogant little punk whose mommy and daddy landed him his job? Ironically, the Italian word for “punk” is “drew”. Heh. Ok, it’s not. But it should be.

Oh, Poodle Boy! Chopchop!
Rocco, having weaned himself from the glut of girlie affection at the book-signing, is in his office the morning after Jeffrey’s dinner at the restaurant. I don’t know why Rocco has an office with two assistants, but I’m guessing we’re starting to see some of where Jeffrey’s money is going.
Anyway, Rocco is on the phone, super-pissed at Tony for not knowing about lunch tastings, or something. He says he won’t have Tony’s mistakes making him look bad in front of Jeffrey. Tony is polite till he hangs up the phone, then stomps off grumbling that Rocco isn’t one to talk, since he’s never at the restaurant at all.

Meanwhile, Antonio is happily preparing for “happy birthday to Rocco.” This means cooking food, and it also means running Tony like his beyatch. During the course of chopping onions and potatoes and rolling up pasta thingies and what-not, Antonio keeps asking Tony to fetch him things. Finally, he whistles and clucks at Tony like he’s a poodle. Oh no he didn’t, girlfriend. If I were Tony, I’d respond by behaving like a Rottweiler. You don’t whistle to get my attention. You wave money. Just kidding.

Out front, Jeffrey and his henchmen march in, encircling the pink-beshirted Rocco. They’re here for the staff meeting, and Jeffrey wants the staff to know his posse doesn’t want to interfere with what they’re doing. They just want to watch them like hawks and change everything. Jeffrey doesn’t think there’s a problem with the food, but he says the reservation cost – or something like that – is high and the bar traffic at night is lower than expected. He also notes, in front of Rocco and other staff members, that the payroll is a mite management-heavy. Change won’t come in a week, Jeffrey says, but they do want to make money.

Rocco sits silently – or, if he says anything, it was left on the cutting room floor. Instead, he stalks out, dramatically enough for the ever-present Carrie – does she ever get a day off? – to notice. He goes up to his office to pout.
In Rocco’s absence, the staff meeting goes forward. Jeffrey says a lot of meaningless things about working together and wanting to improve things, blah, blah, blah. I see a few skeptically-raised eyebrows, but the only thing that seems to pique the staff’s interest is Jeffrey’s promise that if the restaurant makes more money, so will the staff.

Pretty Girls! Only Fifty Dollar!
For some reason, Jeffrey’s Wife has taken it upon herself to discuss the restaurant’s financial woes with Mama. Jeffrey’s Wife has a name, but who cares? Her role here is obviously just to be his wife. Anyway, Mama wants Jeffrey to butt out. Told that Jeffrey’s people run all of his 22 restaurants, Mama says they can work at the other 21, but they need to leave her baby’s restaurant alone.
Speaking as if to a deaf person, Jeffrey’s Wife condescendingly, and slowly, explains that her husband needs to find out why the restaurant isn’t making money. “You need…to make money…to be … in business,” Jeffrey’s Wife says. Mama doesn’t take condescension sitting down. She has no education but she understands the fundamental principle of making money in business. And then she says something snarky about Jeffrey, and I swear I rewound the tape like 10 times, and I couldn’t figure it out. I’m sure it was some awesome smackdown. Sorry.

Not wise enough to back away from a bristling Italian mama, Jeffrey’s Wife presses on. She says they need to get pretty girls at the bar. Her business plan is, “Get the pretty girls, then you get the guys that spend the money.” I don’t know what business Jeffrey’s Wife comes from. But I can guess. Es…cort.

Everybody’s sugar daddy, Jeffrey, says he did indeed get Rocco a birthday present. “I got him a $4 million dollar restaurant.”
And up in the office, the birthday boy demands his assistant get his lawyer on the phone. This is gonna be fun.

An Intern-Wielding Thug?
Next week, Jeffrey steps up his attack, siccing Drew on the staff and arguing face-to-face with Rocco. Also the restaurant staff is having issues: no one can stand the new bartender and a waitress is an on-the-job lush. Jeffrey drags Mama into the dispute. And something catches on fire, which is always a surefire way to ensure my interest. Ooh, flammables! Come to mama!

Did I bring you the wrong appetizer? My bad. Tip me anyway at lucy@fansofrealitytv.com

[Google]

 

[Texicana]

Thanks to Lucy's molto buono recap, I now know another language

[LG.]

How do you say "wonderful recap" in Italian? Great job, Lucy. I loved your "restaurant therapy" and for some reason I was reminded of Airplane with this part:

But since Rocco appears intent on running the restaurant into the ground, it’s time for Jeffrey – and the camera crews – to step back in. Or, as Jeffrey so eloquently puts it, “It’s time to, you know, get serious about this.” Yes. We know.

Surely you can't be serious? I am serious, and stop calling me Shirley.

[Shazzer]

Originally Posted by Lucy

Obviously NBC thought we hadn’t had enough of celebrity chef Rocco DiSpirito, his Mama, and his drama.

Apparently several people were fired or quit with mucho drama, and something caught on fire. Ok, I’m caught up.

Rocco, meanwhile, appears to subscribe to the ostrich theory of restaurant management – i.e., he sticks his head in the sand.

Um, surely the nationwide TV exposure had nothing to do with that. No, it’s all due to the meatballs.

Because I never care who the owner is. I’m probably eating in sub-par establishments.

Now, there’s an image I could have done without. Because I’m thinking bad things about the blender attachments.

Do You Remember That One Place Where We Had That Drink That Time?

I went once. With my mother. Not so much with the wine-tastings, my mother.

I prefer “moped,” because it sounds more like how this little ride looks – silly.

trying to figure out why they’re smeared in red. And it ain’t marinara sauce.

Moped shots can carry a show only so far.

I recognize there’s a difference between “chef” and “cook” and that that difference mostly involves “culinary school” versus “learning how to deep-fry blooming onions.”

But they have a certain danger and charm that makes them attractive, even when they have beer bellies and dredlocks and a three-day beard. (I respectfully disagree, Lucy Liu )

He’s wearing a bandanna and looks dangerous. He’s kinda hot.

That’s “fuori del gancio” in Italian.

They appear to be live. Or, they appear that way briefly. Before they become minced crab.

He adds that Jeffrey’s a big bully who pushed him down in the school yard and took his lunch money.

That’s kind of like how a man who talks all the time isn’t necessarily saying anything wise, isn’t it?

Undermine and Up Yours

Yes she could, if only she had those blender attachments.

We’re Going to Hate This Little Snot

Ironically, the Italian word for “punk” is “drew”. Heh. Ok, it’s not. But it should be.

Es…cort.

Fantastic recap, Lucy Liu!! Mucho quotables, and Hilarity Highway 101!!

Ohhh...I can't wait to see how Drew turns out, and if the coat check girl has any purpose whatsoever.

Fantastic job! Woot X 10!!! And beshirted totally works!!

[senrik]

All in all a good job...

The one thing I seem to remember about the ep that I didn't see in the recap was Jefferey talking about how the staff didn't have Medical and 401(k)'s and that they should....

[American Idyll]

I believe the Italian word for Drew is omarosa.

Great recap!

[Divine]

American Idyll: lmao!


awesome recap lucy! =)

[Stargazer]

Your whole intro had me laughing out loud.

. Ominous music sounds. Ok, maybe it doesn’t. But it should.

Now, there’s an image I could have done without. Because I’m thinking bad things about the blender attachments.

But I have a theory that there is a Cook personality, and that it’s an anti-establishment personality that wouldn’t want anything to do with anything “corporate.” In my experience, Cooks are always the grungy guys, the ones who know the lyrics to obscure Lynard Skynard and Metallica songs, the ones who smoke quantities of pot, who under their aprons dress like they’re going to a Phish concert, who taught themselves guitar and can play licks – but not the whole thing – from Allman Brothers’ songs. But they have a certain danger and charm that makes them attractive, even when they have beer bellies and dredlocks and a three-day beard.

ANYONE who has EVER worked around a restaurant knows EXACTLY what you are talking about.

Luckily, coat-checking doesn’t require a lot of mental acuity.

Actually, according to Babelfish, the Italian for “Cuisinart” is – “Cuisinart.” But the English for “frullatore” is “mixer.” And, in case anyone needs to know, the Italian for “I need a drink” is “Ho bisogno di una bevanda.”

But if I had lost $600,000 of anyone’s money, I wouldn’t be meeting them in my mother’s house. I would meet them in a public place, where their ability to break my kneecaps would be severely hampered.

They have to run it together. Which I guess he does by signing books and riding a moped.


If this boy has washed a dish or served a rack of ribs in his life, I will crap and fall back in it out of shock.

Wow, GREAT job Lucy! I laughed all the way through. Loved the title, too.

[speedbump]

Thanks for a great recap!!! That was truely a gem!

[waitron2000]

Originally Posted by Lucy

...I’m not really getting that Cook vibe from Corporate Chef Luke. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s wearing chef whites in a boardroom, as if at any minute he could be called upon for an emergency filleting. Ok, I lie. He’s wearing a bandanna and looks dangerous...

Not getting that 'Cook' vibe?! The man shows up at the dinner meeting wearing a FKN DO-RAG on his head. I wasn't, and I'm serious, surprised at all. Kitchen people are an amazing breed.

Originally Posted by Lucy

...At this point, I’m going to go ahead and introduce Drew, who I’m sure we will all come to know and hate, because we’re supposed to. He’s an intern who got the job because his parents are friends with Jeffrey. So far his sole talent seems to involve dramatically rolling his eyes at the astronomical debt mounting up from the restaurant. But evidently that’s in high demand with Jeffrey, because Drew is going to be stationed at the restaurant for the next couple of weeks. I’m not sure what his duties are supposed to be, but it sounds like they will entail finger-pointing, button-pushing and up-in-other-people’s-business-getting...

Drew is going to get his ass chewed up. Period. It's gonna be a train wreck... and I can't wait.