Community Update

For 30 years, Anna Romano and her husband Tony dined at the same table at Red Rose on Smith Street in Carroll Gardens.

"She was the meeter and the greeter," said Santo Romano, Anna's son. "She liked to talk to people on the way in, and she wanted to know how everything was on the way out.”

Until last week, I had never eaten at Red Rose without seeing the entire family—Tony, Anna and Santo. When Santo describes the evening's specials, he begins with a pat on the shoulder and the words, "OK let's talk food now. This morning, my dad made ..."

On one especially late night, I arrived with a friend for dinner after most patrons had left. Anna and Tony were seated at the bar. We asked them if we were too late for dinner, and Anna told us, "We're here, and we're not going anywhere. As long as we're here, we're open."

But last week, those of us who have grown accustomed to seeing Anna, Tony and Santo were instead saddened to see a picture of Mrs. Romano on the bar next to a vase of flowers. She passed away July 21 at the age of 83.

I had brought my uncle, who was visiting from Florida, because I knew he would appreciate the old-school, family-run atmosphere. Like Santo, my uncle used to run an Italian food business with his parents. For us, the picture of Mrs. Romano on the bar brought back memories of my grandmother's passing 16 years ago at the age of 66. We, too, let our customers know of her passing with a photograph and flowers.

We offered Santo and Tony our condolences. Later in the week, I talked with Santo more about his mother, an integral part of the family business since it opened 30 years ago.

Born Anna Patane on Cheever Place in Cobble Hill, Mrs. Romano grew up in the neighborhood. As a result, Santo said, "she knew 95 percent of Red Rose's clientele."

“She used to come down around 5 or 6 every evening,” he added. "They had their own private table, the first table on the left when you walk in. People would come in and she'd ask how they were doing and what was going on.”

Although she kept the books for Red Rose until a week before her death, she didn't see the restaurant as work, but rather, as a night out.

“She loved coming down here and mingling with the people,” Santo said. “She would get dressed up, have dinner and a bottle of wine with my dad. She said coming here was like going out to eat every night.”

Not many people have the opportunity to work with their parents from grammar school to adulthood, but Santo said for him it has been—and will continue to be—a privilege.

“It's not always peachy and rosy, but it's special,” he said. "I've spent a lot of time with them. It's been a good ride, and it's still a good ride.

“People asked, 'Is this going to be the end?'" Santo added. "End? No end. This is what we do. We love serving people.”