Remembering Sergio

I still have — and use — a rolodex. With paper cards. It’s around 20 years old. I like its substance, solidity, it’s 3D-ness. I can trace family, friends, and colleagues over the years — their travels and journeys from job to job and home to home by the lines drawn through old addresses and phone numbers and the new ones that replaced them. But sometimes my rolodex makes me very sad. That’s when I pull out a card and throw it away. I have done this for people I no longer wish in my life. But more often I have had to do it because a person dies. This happened on Saturday when I learned that chef, restaurateur and friend Sergio Abramof passed away suddenly and unexpectedly last Friday night. I looked at his cell number written out in blue ink and it hit me — I could never call him again. He wouldn’t pick up anymore and give his endearing girlish giggle when I said something that amused him. No more conversations. No more turning to him as a source for an article I was writing, as I had done often in the past. No more. All the possibilities, his possibilities, gone. His birthday was Aug. 23. He was younger than me.

So I want to bring attention to him one last time. To say he was important and did things that mattered. To put his name in print. Sergio Abramof. He was born in Brazil. He graduated from Cleveland Heights High School — just like my three sons. He opened his first restaurant, Sergio’s in 1994. He had another restaurant, Sarava on Shaker Square. Both were popular and wonderful, like the man himself. Playing the drums gave him joy. So did his son, Julian. He hosted a Brazilian dance party one night that I will never forget. He was a good cook, a good guy, a smart businessman, and he tried to do the right thing when it came to his industry and his community. When our mutual friend Annie Chiu, chef/owner of Sun Luck Garden, hit a rough patch a couple of years ago, he organized a fundraiser. I helped, and his generosity was inspiring. We liked and respected each other.

As of this writing, no information has been made public about exactly what happened. It doesn’t really matter. The significant fact is that Sergio was here, with us, and now he’s not. I thought it might be appropriate for this public tribute and farewell to include an edited excerpt from my last interview with him and his mentor and former boss restaurateur Carl Quagliata in 2010 for Cleveland Magazine’s May Silver Spoons issue.

Sergio: I started in ’78. I’d worked for a very short time in a restaurant I really hated. It was my first restaurant experience. I asked my wife, who’s a native Clevelander, what’s the best place in Cleveland to learn to cook. She told me about Quagliata’s White House in Mentor. I went out there to talk to Carl [Quagliata] and asked for a job with no experience basically. He said I just opened this place in Beachwood [Giovanni’s] and I need a cook. Come in tomorrow. I showed up the next day and that was the real beginning of my career. I was there 14 years.

Carl: I hired Sergio because I needed someone in the kitchen. But when he started working I saw right away what kind of person he was. He had character. And the other things you need to succeed in this business: he wanted to please people, he enjoyed making them happy. It has to come from your heart.

Sergio: I know it sounds corny but that is probably the most important thing, and as good a manager, as good a trainer or a teacher as any of us are, those things are not teachable. You have to have a warm heart, the desire to take care of other people, to give hospitality.

Carl: Sergio had it all — the creativity, the mechanics, the managerial skills, the heart and the character. He was the best.

A public memorial service is scheduled for Monday, Sept. 3. 11 a.m. at Berkowitz-Kumin-Bookatz Chapel, 1985 S. Taylor Road, Cleveland Heights

Chefs on Exhibit

There’s nothing new about our local chefs showing up to help other organizations. They are the backbone of benefits, generous contributors to every kind of charity gig, and the reason that many are willing to purchase tickets and attend these events. But it’s the food rather than the inspired, conceptual thinking behind it that usually gets all the attention. But it was quite a different story last Saturday night in the galleries at the Palate/Palette fundraiser for MOCA Cleveland.

The artistry of five chefs was the centerpiece of the evening rather than the backdrop. Each had chosen one of the five senses to express and fashioned a unique presentation environment for their dishes. Instead of just grazing mindlessly, we encountered intentionally designed sensory worlds that awakened and heightened perceptions, challenged assumptions, and engaged the mind in the act of eating. All the chefs seemed thrilled with the opportunity and clearly had fun with it. “Creating experiences and stimulating the senses is what we do,” Brandt Evans told me. “It’s wonderful to see that being celebrated.”

I was totally taken with the idea and wowed by the execution. Here’s a brief chef by chef recap of their food-meets-art offerings.

Brandt Evans, Blue Canyon, Sight:
Knowing that we eat with our eyes first, Evans hung big food photos behind his table, cuing up anticipation by adding a word to each image: luminosity; lush: stimulating. Big glass vessels willed with asparagus, limes, and basil decorated he staging area. So we were primed and ready for his scallop ceviche with lime and ginger. There was a kind of visual trick to it- the burst of flavor, full of exciting unexpected elements, was so much more than the sum of what could be seen.

Karen Small, The Flying Fig, Smell:
We entered a small windowless dimly lit room with seating for 20, 25 people at tables arranged in a squared-off u-shape. Each place was set with two small cups: in one a ricotta dumpling with onions, chives, and scallions; in the other slivers of grass fed beef short ribs and mushrooms. As we watched, steaming broth was poured on top- smoked pork for the meat, something gingery for the dumpling. Small urges us to inhale deeply before we open our mouth or pick up a spoon. It is a revelation- so much information coming in through the nose.

Jonathon Sawyer, The Greenhouse Tavern, Touch:
We filed in eight at a time, sat down, removed our shoes, and stepped up to the bar, as instructed, positioning ourselves on a marble square. Heat flowed up through the soles of our feet as Sawyer passed us a bowl of warm miso based broth. We cupped it in our hands and drank. Then we moved to the other side and stood on icy cold stones to sip chilled ramp vichyssoise. For both, Sawyer told us to close our eyes. It was like kissing- blocking out visual impressions intensified what the body felt.

Sergio Abramof, Sergio’s and Sarava, Sound:
He’s got a passion for percussion, so Abramof brought some drumming pals in to create beats to back up his Brazilian shrimp and rice. But instead of their usual selection of instruments, these pros pounded out rhythms using kitchen equipment: whisks, spoons, pots, strainers, skillets. It was impossible to hold still. Sergio was swaying and sautéing, people waiting to snag a plate looked like an impromptu conga line. The dish had a mouth music of its own- together they made a dance party.

Doug Katz, fire food and drink, Taste:
His chocolate truffles were the good bye gift. Four were packed in a clear box divided into sections with a paper insert featuring a different photo to accompany the list of primary ingredients and character descriptions for each bite. It was fun, clever, inventive. Like what the best chefs do. The candies were equally original- bittersweet chocolate peppercorn; white chocolate tarragon; milk chocolate rhubarb; and my personal favorite unsweetened chocolate laced with sea salt.

The event looked like a financial success. There was a nice sized crowd that paid $250 per ticket and big bucks were bid for original artwork during the live auction. But staying true to its mission of exploring contemporary culture, looking beyond the conventional and acceptable, and showcasing originality, MOCA is to be commended for also using their fundraiser as a vehicle for raising awareness of the exceptional talent in our culinary community.