This made me weep. In 87/88, I was at Dean & Deluca when it was at 121 Prince; Agnes B was across the street and next to it, Sax’s little soup/sandwich shop. We, the employees of D&D were made to move the store to 560 Broadway; I remember carrying a copper turbot poacher from Villedieu the few blocks east to the new location (the owners refused to hire movers, and by them I do not mean Giorgio), and I remember hearing talk of Sax’s place closing. By then I don’t even know for sure if it was his place. I left the store a year or so later, and learned about five years after that, that every single man I worked with was gone, except for the owners and Jim Mellgren, who was my (wonderful) boss. This is a heartbreaking piece, and Olney sounds like, well, Olney. Thank you for writing it 🙏🏻❤️
There is so much (info and great writing) in this piece that I had to read it twice.
Being an oblivious West Coaster, I didn't know of Richard Sax. I was, however, heartened to know that Ms. Gluck is part of the story. My ex and I used to stay at Sandi and Ralph's whenever we visited New York. I thought them marvelous humans.
This is a very belated comment, but I couldn't let it go. I read your piece and was moved so thoroughly that immediately bought a digital copy of Classic Home Desserts, read it through, and started to bake from it. Fast forward to last weekend, in New York City. We visited the wonderful Bonnie Slotnick Cookbooks shop, when my friend Jon spied the autographed books section behind the counter. He asked if she had any autographed baking books. As she brought them down one by one, I saw Classic Home Desserts come off of the shelf. I teared up, put my hand on the cover and told her that I'd take that one. It was addressed to his editor and is now the most prized book in my collection.
This made me weep. In 87/88, I was at Dean & Deluca when it was at 121 Prince; Agnes B was across the street and next to it, Sax’s little soup/sandwich shop. We, the employees of D&D were made to move the store to 560 Broadway; I remember carrying a copper turbot poacher from Villedieu the few blocks east to the new location (the owners refused to hire movers, and by them I do not mean Giorgio), and I remember hearing talk of Sax’s place closing. By then I don’t even know for sure if it was his place. I left the store a year or so later, and learned about five years after that, that every single man I worked with was gone, except for the owners and Jim Mellgren, who was my (wonderful) boss. This is a heartbreaking piece, and Olney sounds like, well, Olney. Thank you for writing it 🙏🏻❤️
Oh, this is amazing.
Your essay is so wonderful, John -- it was such a crazy time filled with beauty and crazy amounts of talent, and such terrible loss.
There is so much (info and great writing) in this piece that I had to read it twice.
Being an oblivious West Coaster, I didn't know of Richard Sax. I was, however, heartened to know that Ms. Gluck is part of the story. My ex and I used to stay at Sandi and Ralph's whenever we visited New York. I thought them marvelous humans.
This was absolutely gut-punching.
This is a very belated comment, but I couldn't let it go. I read your piece and was moved so thoroughly that immediately bought a digital copy of Classic Home Desserts, read it through, and started to bake from it. Fast forward to last weekend, in New York City. We visited the wonderful Bonnie Slotnick Cookbooks shop, when my friend Jon spied the autographed books section behind the counter. He asked if she had any autographed baking books. As she brought them down one by one, I saw Classic Home Desserts come off of the shelf. I teared up, put my hand on the cover and told her that I'd take that one. It was addressed to his editor and is now the most prized book in my collection.