It’s for the sheer experience
of it—
You better like it loud, ‘cause
it’s loud in here,
it’s like decibel extreme,
like everyone this neighborhood of Seabright knows the place,
whether it’s Rolling Stones, Beatles, or
Bee Gees,
funk, rap, or techno,
a disco ball is spinnin’ in the middle of the ceilin’
like this is some club for dancin’,
but it’s
not—
Or, let’s say, it’s a different kind’a dancin’,
it’s, like, the whole dance you’re
part of dinin’ here—
Lucio Fanni
right there ‘cross the counter in the
open to all
is workin’
the grill, he’s jumpin’, boppin’,
hoppin’,
he’s like twirlin’, he’s enthusin’,
he’s doin’
the break dance arm pumpin’ action,
it’s a hot pan of pasta
he’s got swirlin’ round
like the little spots
swirlin’
round & round
the walls &
floor—
A slight, wiry, Einstein-lookin’
—the
bushy silver hair is obvious—
genius of Italian cookin’
is in
his glory,
has all the burners of the grill goin’
at once,
he’s cookin’
it all himself, every order, every dish from scratch,
it’s the whole experience why this
place gets so popular packed—
People will wait outside an hour to get in
—better make an evening of it—,
drinkin’ wine, munchin’
bread,
menus sittin’
in a black mailbox at the front window,
stools set out there
for those waitin’ or wanna watch
Lucio’s
ongoing hyperkinetic inspiration
in action,
& waiters & waitresses are, like, doin’ the best they can
to keep up,
it’s a-hoppin’,
it’s hip hop time—
There’re framed photos all over the walls,
big red motorcycle photo over the
back end serving bar station
where the wine glasses are hangin’,
& of course the big framed photo of Einstein
—the famous one with his tongue stickin’
out—,
& there’s an Einstein puppet too,
hangin’ in the back,
& Lucio the
super-charged, constant movin’ dynamo
is sip sippin’
the wine & beautifully plyin’ up the pasta,
lettin’ the burners, like, all flare
up—
flames leap
& lick all over
the
pan he’s holdin’,
they’re even leapin’
inside—
He’s singin’ & shoutin’, barkin’ out what dishes
are ready,
& the waiters & waitresses are like a dance
themselves,
it’s all loud,
it’s spinnin’ lights,
it’s nonstop action,
it’s dining entertainment,
& with everyone tryin’ the
best to talk, it’s like a
Let’s
shout-above-the-music kind’a party,
& believe it or not,
often it gets louder the later it gets.
And
patrons
come up after & pay homage—
Lucio hugs & kisses the women,
shakes hands & fakes a kiss
for the men,
he’s kissin’
a woman a second & third time now
& turns
& exclaims, Now I can cook!
& next
thing you know
he’s playin’ with the light switch
in beat
with
the low bass
hip hop
rhythm—
And intermittently managing to break away,
he mingles with his equally enthusin’
patrons,
fast Italiano talkin’.
He’s dressed in white, white-aproned,
white jeans,
white running shoes,
& you’ll also see him holdin’
& kissin’ babies when families
pop in to say Hello.
Now for a moment he’s standin’
at the counter
—there’s a couple
there eatin’—,
he’s tellin’ ‘em
jokes & laughin’,
he even does pantomime—
Lucio,
conductor & master of the Al Dente
experience,
in total command in the swirl of it all—
The huge, deep white round plates keep bein’ served up
with delicious—all kinds’a flavors packed—
perfecta tastin’ dishes.
415
Seabright,
August
2000