I know this an unpopular stance in the age of influence, but sometimes it’s difficult liking the people you write about. There’s a lot of big reasons to avoid this, but even the smallest one, that it complicates the work, is enough. It’s even worse when that “like” borders on admiration.
I admire Joseph Flamm, pride of the south side, son of a cop, grandson of a pasta-making legend, fellow White Sox fan, Bears aficionado, the de facto president of the anti-tweezer-boys school of real cooking and Top Chef Season 15 winner.
I regard him not for those reasons (although they don’t hurt), but for his kindness, his generosity, and his willingness to tell it like it is.
Flamm uses his platform for the enrichment of his community. If he’s not using his social clout to raise money for something, he’s probably grinding at the gym, on the tennis court, or out chasing pavements. As a person who generally only runs when pursued, that last one is particularly impressive.
When my first-born son encountered Flamm as a guest chef for Pilot Light in his elementary school classroom, he fell in love with Joe’s passion and light. This opened up a dialogue about cooking and an interest in culinary things I never expected to share with my son due to his picky eating habits, a byproduct of his peanut allergy. Today he works in the industry.
Flamm was also really nice to my mom once. My mother loves me, but she doesn’t really know who almost anybody I write about is. But she does know Joe. When she turned 70, both her and my son begged to eat at Spiaggia where Flamm helmed the kitchen. I did something I almost never do, because a mother’s love can trump normal working ethics, and asked Flamm if he could visit the table and take a picture with my mother when we dined.
Not only did he do what he’s probably done one million times at this point, but Flamm did it with gusto and followed that up by shaving truffles over my son’s pasta with the kind of importance and pomp he’d likely reserve for visiting chef mentors and friends like Tony Mantuano or Missy Robbins.
During the pandemic Flamm was kind enough to do an interview for this newsletter which at the time was called (LOL) Love In The Time of Coronavirus. His interview helped me generate paid subscriptions so that I could send money to laid-off restaurant workers.
That’s also why I returned the favor in the only way I could, which was to patronize Rosemary and his newest spot Il Carciofo.
That has put me in a tough position.
What do you do when someone you admire doesn’t execute the way you expected? Do you just nod your head and smile and say everything’s great? Do you give them private feedback?
For most people who have solid transparent friendships, the latter is probably the best approach. But I write a newsletter whereby just as people pay Flamm to make good food, they pay me to help them spend their money wisely. It would be a dereliction of that duty not to tell you about my Il Carciofo experience publicly.
A lot of chefs don’t believe this, but I do also feel a responsibility to everyone at Il Carciofo including Flamm to provide feedback so the team can deliver the best possible experience to their future guests. I just can’t deliver this news privately as a means of doing the job I signed on for. If this all sounds a little waffly, you’re not wrong.
Anyway, as the socialistas like to say, “Let’s get into it!”.