A New Dream: Bringing My Roots Back to the Table

My dream was always to open a restaurant.

That dream eventually became a reality right here in Weirton, West Virginia. I opened a sports bar, a place with more beer than you could possibly imagine, great food, cold drinks, sports on every television, and a whole lot of memories made along the way.

And I wouldn’t trade that journey for anything.

But as I’ve gotten older, and maybe a little more mature, I’ve found myself thinking differently about what I want to create next.

Dive bars are a dime a dozen around here. There are plenty of places to grab a beer, watch a game and order a burger or wings.

But great Italian food? That’s a different story.

There are a few really good Italian restaurants in the area, but most of them follow a pretty familiar formula. Lately, I’ve been asking myself:

What if I did something different?

For quite some time now, I’ve been compiling recipes, experimenting with dishes and playing around in the kitchen. And the more I do it, the more I find myself thinking about opening a small Italian restaurant right here in town.

There’s one restaurant that has always stuck with me.

Abruzzi’s in Pittsburgh, just off the 10th Street Bridge.

It wasn’t huge. It didn’t need to be.

It was small, quaint and packed with personality… but the food?

Holy hell, could that place cook.

People came from all over to squeeze into that little restaurant because they knew what was coming out of the kitchen was worth the trip.

That’s where I learned something that has stayed with me ever since:

You don’t need a giant dining room or a massive building to create something special.

You need great food. You need people who care. And you need a reason for people to come back.

For me, that reason starts with family.

I’m Italian by heritage, and food has always been a huge part of my family. The Basil’s, DeStefano’s and Marino’s families have all contributed recipes, techniques and traditions that have been passed down through generations.

I’ve been surrounded by good food my entire life.

My dad makes what I honestly believe is the best pasta sauce I’ve ever tasted. Yes, I’m biased.

But wait until you taste it.

My grandfather taught me how to make chicken cutlets, eggplant Parmesan and homemade bread. Those aren’t just recipes to me, they’re pieces of my family.

And then there are the desserts. Cakes. Pies. Homemade sweets.

At every holiday and nearly every family gathering, somebody in my family is making something that somehow disappears before the night is over.

That’s what I want to capture. Not just another Italian restaurant.

A family table.

A place where the food has a story behind it.

A place where the menu isn’t built because something is trendy, but because somebody’s grandmother, grandfather, father, mother, aunt or uncle knew how to make it the right way.

I’ve never felt more ready to take on something like this.

But here’s the reality: In order to make another dream come true, I need people.

Good people.

People who share the vision. People who want to build something instead of simply showing up for a paycheck. People who understand that a small restaurant can still make a giant impact.

Maybe that means I leave Basil’s Sports Bar exactly where it is and build a completely new team around this idea.

Maybe it means finding the right people to help me turn this crazy idea into something real.

I don’t know exactly where this road leads yet. But I’m pretty damn excited to find out.

For now, I’m going to keep cooking. Keep experimenting. Keep writing down recipes. Keep building ideas.

And below are some of the dishes I’ve been working on that I would love to see featured on the menu of a possible Italian restaurant someday.

Maybe this becomes a restaurant. Maybe it becomes something completely different.

But one thing I know for sure:

I’m having a hell of a lot of fun figuring it out.

Welcome to the beginning of another journey.

And this time…

I’m bringing my roots with me.

Radici dei Fratelli

Roasted Garlic, Peppers & Tomatoes

Roasted Pepper & Tomato Rosè with Fusillini

Teamwork Wins Championships

At Basil’s, we don’t believe in “my table.”

We believe in our guests.

That might sound like a small difference, but it changes everything.

A guest doesn’t know, or care, whose section they’re sitting in.

They don’t see sections. They see one restaurant. They see one team.

And every interaction they have shapes their opinion of Basil’s.

If you’re walking past a table and notice an empty drink, don’t keep walking because it isn’t your table.

If a guest asks for ranch, extra napkins, another beer, or a to-go box, help them.

If food is sitting in the kitchen getting cold, run it.

If another server gets double-seated, greet the new table while they finish taking an order.

The question shouldn’t be:

“Is this my table?”

The question should be:

“What does this guest need right now?”

Communication is the Glue

Helping another server doesn’t mean creating confusion.

It means communicating.

If a guest adds another drink…

Tell the server.

If they decide to add an appetizer…

Tell the server.

If they ask for dessert after you’ve cleared the plates…

Tell the server.

Thirty seconds of communication can prevent ten minutes of confusion.

Guests shouldn’t have to repeat themselves because we didn’t communicate with each other.

The smoother we communicate, the smoother their experience feels.

We Share Tips Because We Share Success

At Basil’s, we tip-share for a reason.

Hospitality is a team sport. No one wins by themselves. When one server is overwhelmed, the entire restaurant feels it.

When one server gets behind, drinks take longer.

Food sits in the kitchen. Tables wait. Guests become frustrated.

But when everyone jumps in, the dining room flows.

One person runs food. Another refills drinks. Someone else clears plates.

Suddenly, what looked like chaos becomes teamwork.

When everyone helps, everyone succeeds.

Don’t Walk Empty

One of the simplest habits you can build is this:

Never make a wasted trip.

Walking to the kitchen? Take dirty dishes.

Coming back to the dining room? Carry food.

Passing the drink station? Refill something.

Walking past a table? Scan it.

Can you clear a plate?

Refill a drink?

Deliver ketchup?

Every trip should accomplish more than one task.

That’s not working harder. That’s working smarter.

One Team. One Dining Room.

Championship teams don’t ask,

“Whose job is this?”

They ask,

“What does the team need right now?”

That’s the culture we’re building at Basil’s.

Not a group of individual servers.

ONE TEAM.

One dining room.

One guest experience.

Because at the end of the night, guests won’t remember who owned Table 2.

They’ll remember how everyone made them feel.

What Makes a Great Employee?

Since I was about fifteen years old, I’ve been an employee somewhere. Every job taught me something, but the biggest lesson wasn’t how to flip burgers, stock shelves, or answer calls.

It was how to work.

More importantly, it was how to be a teammate.

I was taught two simple rules early on:

Never let your boss catch you standing around.
Never let your boss do your work.

Those two lessons have stayed with me for decades.

To me, a great employee isn’t the loudest person in the room or the one constantly reminding everyone how hard they work. A great employee shows up on time. They don’t spend their shift complaining. They’re confident in their abilities but humble enough to keep learning. They finish the job correctly the first time because doing it right matters.

And when the shift is over?

They don’t sprint for the door while someone else is drowning.

They stay. They help.

Because they understand something that too many people have forgotten: when one teammate struggles, the whole team struggles.

The best employees don’t need to be told what to do next. They always find something productive. They take pride in their work, no matter how small the task. They don’t participate in workplace gossip, and they certainly don’t become the source of the drama.

Work isn’t high school. It’s a team sport.

For years, I was the employee. Today, I’m the boss. Ironically, I still think I was a better employee than I am a boss.

When I watch everyone clock out and one employee is left buried with dishes, cleaning, or closing duties, I don’t stand back and supervise.

I grab a towel. I pick up a mop. I jump in.

Because that’s what teammates do.

Titles don’t make people leaders. Actions do.

Someday, every employee gets a reputation. Some become the person management worries about every time they’re scheduled. Others become the person everyone hopes is working because they know the job will get done.

Which one are you becoming?

The wake-up call may never come for some people. But if it does, don’t waste it. Be the employee your coworkers are thankful to work beside.

Be the employee your manager can count on without a second thought.

Be the kind of worker a company is proud to have. Because people may forget what job you had…

But they’ll never forget what kind of teammate you were.

The Roofing Crew

The other day, I looked out the window and noticed a roofing crew pulling into my neighbor’s driveway. The job wasn’t small either, a house and a detached garage. What happened over the next few hours was something most people would barely notice, but it ended up being a lesson in business, teamwork, and work ethic.

The first thing that stood out was how organized the crew was. This wasn’t a group of guys randomly swinging hammers and hoping for the best. This was a well-oiled machine.

Two men worked on the roof tearing off the old shingles. Supporting them were two additional workers whose sole responsibility was keeping the debris moving and making sure nothing piled up or slowed the process. On the ground, three more crew members stayed busy. Two gathered and stacked old shingles while a third operated some type of powered wagon, constantly moving around the property collecting debris as fast as it was generated.

Then another crew member stepped in, operating a lift that delivered bundles of new shingles directly to the roof.

As soon as the old roof was stripped away, the operation shifted gears. The two roofers immediately began installing the new shingles while the support crew opened bundles, staged materials, and ensured the installers never had to stop working. There was no standing around. No confusion. No wasted movement. Every person knew exactly what needed done.

The remarkable part?

The entire project was completed in less than four hours.

Watching them, it became obvious that the speed wasn’t the impressive part. The teamwork was.

Every employee had a specific role. Every employee understood that role. And every employee executed it with confidence. Nobody was trying to do someone else’s job. Nobody was waiting to be told what to do next. There was no horseplay, no distractions, and no wasted energy. From the moment they arrived until the last piece of debris was hauled away, it was all business.

As a business owner, that observation hit home.

Success isn’t always about having the most talented individual employees. It’s about having a team that works together toward a common goal. When everyone understands their responsibilities and trusts the people around them to do theirs, incredible things can happen. Productivity increases. Stress decreases. Customers are happier. The entire operation runs smoother.

The opposite is also true.

When employees don’t know their responsibilities, lack confidence in their abilities, or require constant supervision, business owners find themselves stepping in to finish tasks, solve preventable problems, and carry burdens they shouldn’t have to carry. Instead of leading the business forward, they’re stuck dragging it along.

The roofing crew reminded me of something simple but powerful: great teams aren’t built by accident. They’re built through training, accountability, experience, and a shared commitment to doing the job right.

Maybe that’s why it’s worth occasionally stopping to watch people work.

Whether it’s a roofing crew, a construction site, a restaurant kitchen, a mechanic’s shop, or a landscaping company, there is something to be learned from people who take pride in their craft. Sometimes the lesson isn’t even about the job they’re doing.

Sometimes the lesson is about discipline. Sometimes it’s about teamwork.

And sometimes it’s a reminder to take a hard look at ourselves and ask a simple question:

Am I helping my team move the job forward… or am I the reason it slows down?

That’s a lesson worth learning from a roofing crew!

Changing with the Times

Changing with the times. That’s something many people do… and many people fear.

For me, change has been both a blessing and a curse. Sometimes it made me better. Other times, I think I got lost somewhere in the translation of it all.

Take restaurant ownership for example.

I started in the food and beverage world back in 1992, working at my first beer and liquor establishment. What started as just a job quickly snowballed into a lifestyle, one I embraced for many, many years.

Back then, we worked. And I mean really worked.

When it was busy, we hustled. We busted our asses. We ran food, stocked coolers, cleaned constantly, checked orders, rotated inventory, and made sure the place was ready for the next shift and the next day. There was pride in it. And we all did the jobs, all the jobs, there wasn’t any “that’s not my job” shit.

But we also knew how to enjoy the job.

When things slowed down, we played pool. We threw darts. We played keno. Hell, sometimes we invented our own games just to survive a dead Tuesday night. There was a camaraderie to it all. A weird little dysfunctional family built around grease traps, neon lights, and last call. And rye front of house and back of house all got along… today a server wouldn’t be caught dead chatting up a cook!

And then there was the jukebox.

Music was part of the soul of a bar. Somebody was always feeding dollars into that machine. You could almost tell what kind of night it was going to be by what songs were playing.

That’s one of the biggest changes I notice now.

Today’s workers are different. And maybe this is the part where I officially sound old, but I don’t understand it. The average worker today doesn’t embrace the food and beverage world the way we once did. They don’t seem connected to it. The energy feels different. Instead of the jukebox, the average workers is forever on their phone.

Somewhere along the line, the mindset shifted from:
“How do we make this place great?”
to:
“How can I get paid while doing the absolute minimum?”

Maybe it’s society as a whole. Maybe priorities changed. Maybe the industry changed people instead of the other way around.

But the bars and restaurants themselves? They didn’t really change.

The people working in them did.

I may never fully understand where the great workers went. The grinders. The people who took pride in outworking everyone else in the building. The ones who treated the business like it mattered because it supported their lifestyle, their friends, and their future.

But I still believe those people are out there somewhere.

The ones willing to get after it.
The ones willing to hustle.
The ones willing to bust their ass because that’s just who they are.

And honestly?

Those are still my kind of people. So if you’re a go getter, a hustler, a grinder… come see me. We just may be hiring!

The Great Wing Debate: Here We Go Again…

There are few things more predictable on social media than the cycle of outrage, political arguments, and someone asking:

“Who has the best wings in the area?”

Like clockwork, it rises from the ashes every few weeks like a deep-fried phoenix coated in medium sauce.

And once again, hundreds of people rush into the comments armed with absolute certainty, as if they’ve been personally appointed to the Supreme Court of Chicken Wings.

The funny part?

Half the people answering are recommending the same place they’ve been eating at since 2009 and haven’t ventured beyond its parking lot since.

Now don’t get me wrong, I sell wings. I love wings. I fully support unhealthy emotional attachment to crispy poultry. But let’s be honest about what these posts actually become.

A giant, repetitive, subjective food war.

Because every single time the question gets asked:

The original poster is never going to try all 37 places mentioned.
Every answer is based on personal bias and loyalty.
The same businesses get repeated over and over.
And the more the question gets asked, the fewer people even care enough to answer it anymore.

It’s social media Groundhog Day with bleu cheese dressing.

So who actually has the best wings?

Honestly? I have no idea.

I’m partial to my own because, well… they’re mine. That’s how ownership works. I’d be concerned if I was in my own kitchen whispering, “You know whose wings are really better? The Tavern.”

What I can say is consistency matters.

Good wings on Tuesday should still be good on Friday night when the kitchen is slammed, the fryer is screaming for mercy, and somebody at table seven wants “extra crispy but not too crispy.”

That consistency is probably what separates good wing places from great ones.

And here’s the thing:
Most people recommending “the best wings” probably only go to one or two spots regularly anyway. Which is fine. Everybody has favorites. But favorites and “best” aren’t always the same thing.

So here’s my completely revolutionary advice for anyone about to make the weekly wing post:

Before asking the question again…

Go to the group page.
Hit the search icon.
Type in “chicken wings.”

Congratulations… you’ve unlocked the archives of approximately 9,000 identical posts.

Read through them.
Make a list.
Then go try the places yourself.

Turn it into a mission.
A wing crawl.
A cholesterol-powered adventure across the Ohio Valley.

Because the only real way to know who has the best wings… is to actually eat the wings.

Crazy concept, I know.

My Wishlist

An Unhealthy Way to Manage

Today’s blog is an angry rant. A painful, physically and mentally painful testament to why being in charge of people is an unhealthy stressor. How the constant repetition of explaining and showing how to do things is tiresome to the point of extreme exhaustion.

Reliability is at an all time low. Accountability is nonexistent. I wish making excuses and not owning up to wrongdoings was a fireable offense!

I wish employees would do their actual jobs and stop conducting their personal business while on company time.

I wish I could convey these messages and people hear them, believe in them and actually respond and do them.

I wish, because as a child we grow up fast and are taught to believe and make wishes. I’d rather be taught at a young age that failure is real and relying on others will break you!

I wish, I could stop wishing… I write because this is my release and my way to vent… I can type without being interrupted.

Confidence doesn’t exist in people anymore. Belief in oneself is a missing trait and because of that most work is incomplete or incorrect.

My final wish is to see an influx in solid, confident and skilled workers who accept accountability and put the business first before online shopping, family matters, chatting up strangers and friends and ignoring phone calls.

It’s all wishful thinking, not because I don’t think people exist out there who do the job right, but because I don’t think many people out there actually care…..

Building Culture or Tearing It Down

“A man’s character isn’t measured by the job he has, but by how well he does the job in front of him.”

There’s a silent problem happening in a lot of workplaces today, and most people don’t even realize it’s happening.

It’s not bad management. It’s not low wages. It’s not even the economy.

It’s culture.

And culture isn’t created by mission statements, motivational posters, or manager speeches. Culture is created by what people are willing to do… and what they refuse to do.

In today’s society, too many people believe certain work is beneath them.

The janitor is treated differently than the CEO.

The dishwasher is overlooked while the chef gets the praise.

The person sweeping the floor is invisible to the person signing the checks.

But here’s the truth most people miss:

The tedious work is what keeps everything running. Floors have to be swept. Bathrooms have to be cleaned. Equipment has to be wiped down. Prep has to be done. Trash has to be taken out.

These aren’t glamorous jobs. No one brags about them. But without them, businesses fall apart faster than people realize.

You can have the best leadership, the best product, and the best marketing in the world… but if the little things stop getting done, the entire operation slowly starts to decay.

I’ve seen it happen more times than I can count.

The Family Business Trap

In family-run businesses, there’s another problem that quietly develops.

When employees don’t do the small jobs, the family steps in and does them.

The owners start to clean, wipe and pick up, where employees don’t.

Someone stays late or comes in on closed days to clean and prep what should have been done during a shift.

At first, it seems like the responsible thing to do. You care about the business, so you pick up the slack. But over time, something dangerous happens.

Employees learn a lesson without anyone saying a word:

“If we don’t do it… the family will.”

And just like that, culture starts rebranding itself.

Not because employees are bad people, but because standards are no longer enforced. The invisible work always gets done… just not by the people who were supposed to do it.

The “That’s Not My Job” Mentality

One of the biggest cultural shifts I’ve seen over the years is the rise of the phrase:

“That’s not my job.”

When people start deciding which tasks are “beneath” them, the entire system breaks down.

Successful teams…. whether in sports, the military, or business, all share one common mindset:

Everyone handles the small stuff.

The small tasks are not punishment.

They are the foundation.

When the small things are handled well, the big things become easier. But when the small things are ignored, the big things start falling apart.

Pride in the Work

Some of the best workers I’ve ever known weren’t the ones with the biggest titles.

They were the ones who took pride in whatever task they were given.

Mopping restrooms? Dusting shelves. Raking yards. Shoveling walkways.

They made sure it was all perfect and spotless. They didn’t leave a trail behind them.

It wasn’t about the job itself. It was about pride in doing something well.

That kind of mindset is rare today… but when you find it, it changes everything.

Culture Is Built Through Standards

Here’s the reality most owners eventually learn:

Motivation doesn’t build culture. Standards do. Clear expectations. Accountability. Consistency.

Not speeches. Not slogans. Not empty promises.

If the soda gun needs cleaned, it gets cleaned.

If the floor needs swept, it gets swept.

If the fryer needs scrubbed, it gets scrubbed.

And when it’s someone’s responsibility, they own it. Not tomorrow. Not when someone reminds them.

Right now.

The Hard Truth

When a business starts struggling with culture, it’s easy to blame employees.

But the truth is a little more uncomfortable.

Culture is built or destroyed by what leadership allows.

If the small jobs are constantly ignored and someone else quietly fixes them later, the standard slowly disappears.

People don’t rise to unspoken expectations. They rise to enforced ones.

Respect the Broom

A workplace becomes a stronger place to work when people respect every job, from sweeping the floor to running the company. Because when people take pride in the small things, the big things take care of themselves.

But when the small things are ignored, the entire system begins to crack.

Culture isn’t built by titles.

Culture is built by the willingness to do the work that no one else wants to do.

And sometimes the most important tool in any business isn’t the computer, the fryer, or the cash register.

It’s the hands that hold the mop.

Being “Nice” Is the Most Expensive Mistake in Business

The biggest mistake you can make in business is being nice to employees.

Some people need discipline. Some people need to be fired. And pretending otherwise is how small businesses bleed out slowly.

Post-COVID didn’t just disrupt industries, it rewired work ethic. And small businesses are paying the price for government policies that rewarded not working while punishing those who kept showing up.

You can explain expectations until you’re blue in the face. You can train, retrain, document, demonstrate, and remind. And still…. people just won’t do what’s required. They’ll do the bare minimum and convince themselves that it’s “enough.”

Meanwhile, business owners are handcuffed.

• Food specials? Forget it — cooks “can’t handle” the extra.

• Drink specials? Forget it — servers don’t want to promote anything new.

• Responsibilities and accountability? Forget it — that’s suddenly “too much.”

We survived COVID. Despite shutdowns. Despite losing half our staff. Despite every attempt to pull the rug out from under us. We made it with what we had.

And now?

What we’re left with is an employee pool that’s lazy, disengaged, and painfully lackluster.

People love to say, “You can only go up from here.”

I disagree. When you’ve been stuck at the bottom long enough, sometimes the only way forward is to bail out and find a new starting point.

Between rising rent, food shortages, delivery delays, missed orders, and the added burden placed on owners because employees simply don’t care, it’s enough to make any sane person walk away.

But here I am. Circling the eddy. No paddle. Going down with the ship. Because that’s what captains do. Because we all know sanity isn’t my strong suit!

The Restaurant You See vs. The Restaurant We Run

If you’ve never worked in a restaurant, I get it. From the outside, it looks simple.

You walk in. You order. You eat.

If something is unavailable, the conclusion is quick and confident: “Someone screwed up.”

But that assumption lives in the same fantasy land as thinking grocery stores magically refill themselves overnight and food appears because you wanted it.

Let me pull the curtain back a little. What Customers See

A menu.

A bar.

A kitchen.

A wait time.

If we sell out of something, especially wings, the reaction is often immediate and personal. Somehow, a business decision becomes a moral failure. Suddenly, we “suck.”

Restaurants are not vending machines. They are controlled chaos. Every single day involves:

Forecasting demand without a crystal ball. Ordering product days in advance. Managing limited cooler and freezer space. Balancing food waste vs. sell-outs. Staffing humans (not robots). Navigating deliveries that are late, short, or wrong. Following food safety laws that do not bend to feelings.

We don’t order infinite food because over-ordering doesn’t make customers happier, it puts restaurants out of business.

Let’s Talk Wings

Just Friday and Saturday this week we sold 840 pounds of wings.

That’s roughly 6700+ individual wings.

That’s not a “we forgot to order” problem. That’s a you all showed up hungry in unreasonable numbers situation.

Selling out isn’t failure. It’s demand outpacing expectation. And before anyone says, “Just make more”, that’s not how food, physics, or reality work.

Why “Just Make More” Isn’t a Thing.

Food takes time to prep. Deliveries don’t teleport. Staff doesn’t magically multiply. Kitchen space and equipment are limited. Health codes exist. Storage space is finite.

If restaurants stocked for maximum possible demand every single day, most would close within a month due to waste alone.

The Part No One Thinks About. When someone calls a restaurant and says “you suck,” they aren’t yelling at a corporation.

They’re yelling at: A server who had nothing to do with ordering. A cook who’s already working a double. A manager solving 20 problems at once. A team doing their best in a high-stress environment.

Restaurants are run by people. Real ones. Not punching bags for frustration.

A Little Perspective Goes a Long Way. You don’t need to work in a restaurant to enjoy one. But understanding the reality behind the scenes?

That makes you a better customer, and honestly, a better human.

If we sold out, it means you loved it. And if you loved it enough to be mad? We’ll take that as a compliment.

We’ll make more. You’ll be back. And next time, maybe lead with patience instead of insults.