Maurizio Crescenzo

Food has never been far from the center of Maurizio Crescenzo’s life. The owner and chef at Grano, the Greenwich Village trattoria that draws on Italy’s many regional cuisines, is passionate both about cooking and about sharing the bounty of his kitchen.

In the small southern Italian town of Sarno where Maurizio and his six brothers were raised, big meals were an everyday event. He learned young how to season the lamb that was served at Sunday family gatherings, which brought together 20 or 30 relatives, and when to stir the ragu sauce that his mother had left simmering on the stove. From the olives grown on the family farm, he learned to make his own olive oil, and from the grapes, red wine. Rosemary, sage and oregano were among the favored herbs in the Crescenzo household and the fragrance of baking bread wafted through his home most days of the week.

Maurizio’s journey from Sarno to Manhattan came in stages. At age 14, he held his first job, not in a restaurant, but in a shop that made iron gates for private homes. Even there, he began to see the world through the eyes of a restaurateur. Those iron gates were the first thing a guest would notice upon approaching a house, and Maurizio learned an enduring lesson about the value of an appealing presentation.

One day, a customer entered the shop and smelled the rich aroma of a pasta sauce. “Who’s cooking?” he demanded to know. “This is an iron shop, not a restaurant.”

All fingers pointed to Maurizio. “You must go to a culinary institute,” insisted the visitor. Maurizio decided to do just that, enrolling in Instituto Professionale Alberghiero di Stato, one of Italy’s top schools. He refined his craft there, but perhaps more importantly, he learned to use his imagination. The chef who became his mentor used to tell him, “Watch what we do, then do it your way. It has to be your own creation, your own work.”

After his first semester, Maurizio impressed his teachers by purchasing his own knife, one just as elegant as theirs, and a far cry from the flimsy knives that novices were generally expected to use. But it was only when he won a national competition -- for a cake sculptured with 1,500 pieces of marzipan depicting dancing girls in a salon -- that Maurizio felt sure of his calling.

In the years after graduating with honors from IPAS, he worked all over the country, quickly rising from sous-chef to the man in charge as he mastered one regional cuisine after another. In Rome, he created innovative pasta and seafood dishes, and in southern Italy, he began making the bean soups and polenta dishes that soon had few rivals. In northern Italy, he learned the techniques of long, slow cooking and perfected his venison stew and cured beef. Along the way, he was befriended by a local fisherman in the town of Civitavecchia, who taught him the secrets of identifying the most delectable fish.

Maurizio soon set his sights on New York and at 26, he landed on American soil for the first time, speaking no English. Always restless in the classroom, he rejected formal language study in favor of eavesdropping, watching Walt Disney movies, and wandering the supermarkets, where he read food labels and painstakingly matched produce signs to the fruits and vegetables they described. Fluency came quickly and within two years of his arrival, Maurizio had opened the doors of Grano.

In the European tradition, the restaurant combines fine cuisine with a warm, welcoming environment where regular customers quickly become family. Maurizio loves nothing more than to be told, “I don’t want to see the menu, surprise me with something.” He can put together a tasting menu or a feast for 30 with just a few hours notice and his eyes light up when he is asked to describe one of his creations.

A slice of salmon, wrapped in orange and sprinkled with sea salt… sautéed chicken livers flavored with grappa sauce… fettuccini with a garlic-infused white clam sauce… a winter salad of pears, walnuts and spinach… Whatever the day’s specials, the meals at Grano tend to be simple, elegant, and immensely flavorful. Each ingredient is distinctive, yet in harmony with its surroundings. In the brick oven where he makes thin-crusted pizza, Maurizio may decide one day to smoke duck and the next to bake puff pastry. Desserts, from tortes to chocolate polenta, are often rich, though the homemade sorbet is light, fruity and refreshing. The wine list is varied, with an emphasis on the wines of southern Italy.

Beyond the flavors of the food, what customers usually remember is how comfortable they come to feel at Grano. Maurizio, his wife Andrea, and the restaurant’s staff exude a warmth that is genuine and palpable. “This is our living room, these people are our guests,” says Maurizio. “They are coming to me after a hard day and I am going to make the trip worthwhile.”

Like most artists, Maurizio is committed to creative excellence, both at the stove and on the floor of the restaurant. “This is my stage, this is my performance,” he acknowledges with a shy smile. “Here, you have got to be great.”