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Shoulder rub, ravioli rock New Jersey restaurant
Soon after you sit at your restaurant table, you feel the soft touch of human hands on your shoulders from a person directly behind. Others at your table stare, watch and wonder. They suspect they could be next in line for the pre-meal shoulder massage.
Being caressed is a tradition when you eat at Guerrerio's Ristorante on South Street in Morristown, N.J. I experienced this again this past Saturday night while with my wife and another couple. The stroker is owner Jack Guerrerio, who is white-haired, blue eyed, slightly plump and not very tall.
Whether he intends it to be or not - it probably is because Jack seems shrewd - the shoulder rub is one of Jack's competitive differentiators in the restaurant market. In these touchy times, it seems risky to stroke strangers without warning nor consent. But in this narrow nest, Jack does it in a genuine and non-threatening way. His hands are saying "Welcome to my restaurant. You made a great decision to come eat here."
During the shoulder rubs, Jack tends to regale you with stories about his past. On Saturday, he went on with me about his days playing football decades ago for Morristown's Delbarton School. After boasting about how hard he used to tackle players, he mentioned something in passing about also being the team's kicker or something. I got the impression Jack played on every down of every play and was the team's star and emotional leader.
As unusual as the shoulder touches are, there is something even more unusual about this dining experience: the taste of Jack's ravioli, meatball and sausage dish. Swamped in meaty tomato sauce that sprawls across the plate from edge to edge, the meatballs are nearly the size of Major League baseballs. Easy to cut and plump, there are no tastier meatballs anywhere. To complement these circular wonders, you get a chunk of sausage laced with a spicy hit that catapults what is already a great food into the stratosphere among the ethereal gods above.
Usually when you order ravioli at a restaurant you get just a plate of ravioli. At Jack's joint he packs the plate with not just one type of meat - but two. It's a double play, twice as nice, two times a lady.
There is no Italian food that tastes better. The previous time I ate there before Saturday I asked Jack why his ravioli is the best around. He told me it's the creamy, rich cheese. On Saturday I told him I believe it's the meaty tomato sauce. He let me believe what I wanted to believe.
The customer is always right. Jack knows this kind of stuff.
Whatever it is, I will be back again soon and order another heaping plate of Jack's Italian Stallion. As far as I'm concerned, they can throw away the menus. From Jack I know what I want and always will. In the weeks leading up this feast, I fantasize about the ravioli and shoulder rub. It outperforms my fantasies.
Because I've eaten there several times, Jack makes me feel as if he knows me. But given how crowded his place is all the time, I suspect it's hard for him to keep track of all his patrons. These include several noteworthy people, even some more famous than me. On that list are New York Yankees legend Yogi Berra, Ohio State football coach Urban Meyer, whose team won the national title last season, and New York Jets long snapper for punts. His is not a household name, nor is his position central to a football team's success, so there is no need to provide it here.
In the photo section of the restaurant Website is a shot of cool-hand Jack in black-shaded sunglasses. Standing in front of the green and red sign that reads Guerriero's Ristorante, there you see his maroon convertible Buick. It is parked along the curb. Jack probably can park there any time he wants without getting a ticket. The cops no doubt know him and like his food so may very well give him a pass. Classic quid pro quo deal.
In studying the picture, I get the sense that, besides his restaurant, his favorite toy in life is his car. It's a picture that makes me want to hop in the passenger seat and have Jack take me for a cruise through Morristown explaining how he makes the world's best ravioli and why no one can match its deliciousness.
On this drive I would be eager to hear him share more stories about who he out-maneuvered and out-thought in high school to win over the prettiest girls; how Morristown has grown under his watchful eye and what he thinks of the town's local politics; how he got into the restaurant business; and why as they sit to eat he rubs his customers' shoulders.
Before too long, however, I would ask him to turn around and take me back to his restaurant. As I ordered another plate of ravioli, I would beg him to rub my shoulders - again.
- Charles Hartley
Charles Hartley is a freelance writer who has had more than 1,000 articles published in a wide range of media outlets focused on humor, sports, business, technology and consumers. He has earned master's degrees in journalism and business administration and a bachelor's degree in English and communications.