For me, the binge-watch of 2024 was Hulu’s The Bear, an intense, sometimes verbally shocking and altogether mesmerizing portrait of running a family fine-dining restaurant.
To find out how true-to-life The Bear really is, I sit down with John Gallagher of Nonna Maria’s. John, Maria’s grandson, tells me his uncle started Maria’s in the 1970s.
“Pizza, pasta, fried chicken, ribs—very simple food," John recalls. "Growing up, my brothers and sisters, my friends, my brothers’ and sisters’ friends—we all worked here.”
Just like The Bear, Maria’s transitioned from casual to fine dining, with John’s brother-in-law as chef and John working front of house. And just like the show’s main character Carmy, John left Maria’s to start his own restaurant—but was pulled to come back.
“My uncle lost the restaurant—health challenges. With the new owners, the food wasn't the same. It was…it just was not the same."
When the restaurant closed, John swooped in to bring Maria’s back into the family—and resurrect it to its former glory. That even includes, just like The Bear, one day opening a carryout-only entrance: "I'll bring back the pizza," John declares.
John hasn’t seen the show, but when I explain the premise, he says, “Working with family can be very interesting.” I ask him to elaborate.
“Well, you’re family,” John replies, “so you can yell at each other.”
“You’re going to love this show,” I tell him.
The Bear family’s communication is fiery, but fiercely loyal. John can relate.
“My uncle threw me out of the restaurant,” John remembers. “About a year later, he calls me and says, ‘Still remember how to cook?’ I go, ‘Maybe.’”
John says the disastrous situations on virtually every episode are realistic. I ask for his own culinary crises.
“A cook one time left at 5:00 on a Saturday,” John recalls. “This is a two-man kitchen—you can’t operate it yourself, it’s impossible.”
John threw a front-of-house staff member in and, like ground control talking a passenger through landing a plane, John talked her through that night’s service. “Things ran a little bit slower,” he recalls, "but we got through it.”
Drains backing up, equipment breaking down, grease fires—John and Nonna Maria's have been through them all, and survived them all.
"You do whatever you have to do," John says. "I used to pull 100-hour workweeks, many times. I slept in my restaurant: pull three chairs together, grab a tablecloth, go to sleep. You just keep going."
What’s John like when disasters strike?
“I go, ‘Just do what I say. I’m not going to say please and thank you, I’m just going to shout out stuff.’ And…it works.”
Is the dinner rush as frenzied as the show makes it seem?
"It gets intense,” John admits. “You start out slow and bang, you're just packed for a couple hours. So it's like a blast. All or nothing.”
What’s John’s secret to weathering the nightly blast?
“Mise en place,” John replies. “Everything in its place. Utensils, spices, everything. I can cook in the kitchen blind, because I know exactly where every bottle is.”
John makes the lasagna the same way his Nonna Maria taught him years ago. And my son adores Nonna Maria’s specialty: spiedini.
“It's layers of bread, mozzarella cheese, lemon butter, white wine, chopped olives,” John explains. “It tastes great. We sell a ton of it."
Before I go, John recalls handling one more The Bear-style disaster.
“We lost power for four days in the early 2000s. Three guys come in and I go, ‘Sorry guys, we're closed, we’ve got no power’—and they’re here for a bachelor party. So I said, 'Sit down.’
“I rustle up butane burners and I made dinner on them with a flashlight. They had a great time. I still see the groom. He always says he’ll never forget it—even though he’s divorced now.”
John, I and photographer Amy all laugh.
“Pop in during the rush one Saturday night,” John offers, still laughing. “You’ll see what it’s like.”
To make a reservation at Nonna Maria's, call (248) 851-2500.