Many years ago, on our first trip to New York City, we met John "Cha Cha" Ciarcia who owns a small Italian restaurant on Mulberry Street in the Little Italy section of Manhattan called "Cha Cha´s in Bocca Al Lupo Outdoor Cafe." Karen´s Uncle knew Cha Cha and suggested we try his restaurant. He said it was located on Mulberry Street just north of Canal Street, and to make sure that we ask for Cha Cha when we get there.

Quite frankly, when we arrived in New York City, we completely forgot about Cha Cha´s restaurant, but we had set aside an afternoon to visit China Town. Having never been to New York before, and not knowing where to go, we asked our taxi driver to drop us off on Canal Street "near the shopping area." As fate would have it, he dropped us off on the corner of Canal Street and Mulberry. It was getting close to lunch, and I remembered the restaurant that Karen´s Uncle recommended. So we turned up Mulberry Street and went to look for it.

We found the restaurant about 100 yards up on the left, and I have to admit it was not what we expected. It was a real hole-in- the-wall with a narrow entrance and rough exterior that was lined with cheap plastic tables and chairs. I could instantly tell that Karen was not comfortable staying, but we ventured in just the same. One of the servers greeted us and I told him we were here to see Cha Cha. When I told him our name, he lit up and exclaimed, "Cha Cha is expecting you. He is not here yet, but he wants us to make you anything you want."

I looked at Karen and could see in her eyes she did not want to stay; yet, it would not have been polite to leave. We followed our waiter to the back of the restaurant where we were seated.

The back of the restaurant was not much better than the front. It would be generous to call it "rustic." Every inch of the walls were covered with pictures of celebrities, accompanied by a short, dark- haired and very heavy-set man who resembled an extra in an Italian mob movie. We had to assume this was Cha Cha.

The waiter came back and asked me what my favorite dish was and I replied "Veal Parmigiana." He said, "Fine. I will bring you the best Veal Parmigiana you have ever had."

When the food finally came out, we were pleasantly surprised. It was one of the best Veal Parmigiana I had ever eaten. The veal was crisp on the outside and perfectly tender on the inside, and the red sauce was simply fantastic. It was clearly not what we expected.

We had just finished lunch when Cha Cha arrived with his wife, who coincidentally is also named Karen. Cha Cha was wearing an old chef´s jacket with baggy "bakers" pants. He pulled up a chair and began to speak.

Cha Cha was pretty much everything you would have expected from his pictures. He was a rough and gruff guy who seemed to have little use for small talk and normal pleasantries, but he also had a certain charm about him I liked. He told it like it was, or at least how he thought it should be.

We talked for about an hour, mostly about his passion for food, and he was passionate about food! He was on a quest that day to create the perfect pistachio gelato, which is an Italian version of ice cream. It was getting late and I had made a reservation that night at one of the best restaurants in town, so we had to excuse ourselves. As we were getting ready to leave, I thanked him for the meal, which he refused to let us pay for.

Before we made it to the curb, Cha Cha´s wife, Karen, came running out and stopped us. She said, "Cha Cha really liked meeting you."

I said, "Thank you. I enjoyed meeting him as well."

She replied, "You don´t understand. Cha Cha really liked you, and he does not normally like people until he gets to know them. He wants to take you out to dinner tonight."

I looked at my wife and there was that look again. I had already pressed my luck by dragging her into this restaurant and then actually eating there, not to mention the fact that I was supposed to take her shopping; but we spent most of the afternoon talking food with Cha Cha instead. Then she did something that completely surprised me. She turned to Karen and said, "Sure, we´d love to." I was shocked.

I asked Cha Cha´s wife where they wanted to go, and she said, "Don´t worry about it. Cha Cha will take you to the best restaurant in Little Italy. We will see you at 8."

I have to admit I was not real happy that Karen agreed to this. It was Saturday night on our first trip to New York City. I had made reservations at a famous restaurant. I had even arranged for a private driver for the evening, and Karen had picked out a spectacular outfit to wear that night. I had to keep reminding myself we were going to visit "the best restaurant in Little Italy."

We arrived in front of Cha Cha´s restaurant at 8 p.m. sharp. There was Cha Cha waiting for us, still wearing the same old chef´s jacket and baggy pants from earlier that day. The only difference was that he was now covered with flour from cooking all afternoon in his kitchen. This was not starting out like we had hoped. We were all dressed up, and there was obviously no place to go, but we were in for a big surprise.

Cha Cha walked toward the street and said, "Follow me."

We made it about the length of one storefront when a shopkeeper came running out and grabbed Cha Cha´s hand, greeting him with the respect one would usually afford a dignitary. The shopkeeper reached out with both hands, with a slightly bowed head, and shook Cha Cha´s hand while saying, "It´s good to see you Mr. Cha Cha."

Mr. Cha Cha? What is this about? No sooner did we get a little further down the street than someone else came up and greeted him in a similar fashion. As it turned out, just about everyone on the street that evening seemed to know who he was, and one by one they came over to greet him. Then it dawned on me. We may be walking down the street with a real life Tony Soprano! He certainly looked and talked like one, but little did we know we were walking down the middle of Mulberry Street with the "unofficial" Mayor of Little Italy.

We stopped in front of a restaurant named Il Cortile and there was a crowd waiting out front to be seated. The owner had spotted Cha Cha as we were walking down the street and ran out to meet us. He said, "Cha Cha, I have your table waiting for you."

He took us through the restaurant to the very back where the room opened up to a high ceiling. There in the middle was a table already set up with wine and a large tray of antipasto. Cha Cha was clearly the center of attention as every waiter, and almost every patron of the restaurant came over to greet him.

After we were seated, a waiter came out to fill our glasses with wine. I asked him if he was going to bring us some menus. The waiter looked up at Cha Cha, turned to me with a smile, and then walked away. I was not sure what had just happened. Cha Cha said, ????"Tonight you will learn to eat like a true Italian. There will be no menus. Just lots of food and lots of fun."

That was the night we first learned what it meant to dine Italian style. Italians take their food very seriously, but eating is a leisurely experience that requires a mixture of patience and restraint. Quite simply, there is no rush, there will be a lot of food, and sharing is an important part of the experience.

They started with a series of appetizers, which Italian´s refer to as antipasti. They brought us several trays of sliced meats, cheeses, and vegetables that had been roasted, then chilled and marinated in olive oil. As soon as one tray was emptied, another would quickly appear with some new delicacy. I was like a kid in a candy shop.

After about an hour or so, the waiter appeared and asked us what kind of pasta we liked. Everyone told him his or her favorite pasta dish, and off he went to the kitchen. Karen and I thought we were ordering our dinner, but little did we know we were about to be introduced to the first course of a traditional Italian dinner & primo di pasta.

About 30 minutes later, the waiter arrived with stacks of large bowls filled with the different pastas we ordered. The dishes included massive servings of penne Arrabbiata, spaghetti Bolognese, and fettuccini with a white wine and clam sauce. For the next several hours, we dined like the ancient Romans; the wine kept flowing, and we were having the time of our lives.

When the waiter finally returned, it was well past 10 p.m. and we were stuffed to the gills. He looked at Cha Cha and said, "How about I bring you a nice Three Musketeer?" I assumed he was talking about dessert, but again I was wrong.

Another 30 minutes went by when the waiter brought out a large tray filled with Veal Chops, Chicken Scaloppini and Veal Saltimbocca. It was then we learned what a "Three Musketeer" really meant Ñ three courses of meat. We also learned that the main course in a traditional Italian meal is the second course, which is referred to as secondo. The secondo usually consists of meat and poultry (secondi di carni e volatili) or seafood (pescato di mare). He also brought out a series of side dishes, which are called contorni. Contorni´s also include salad, which unlike American-style dining, is served at the very end of the meal.

We had never eaten so much in one seating, but the food was fantastic and Cha Cha was entertaining us with the stories of his life. Remember all of those pictures on the walls of his restaurant? Those were friends and associates of Cha Cha from his many years as a boxing promoter, consultant, and extra in mob movies. Cha Cha told us the story of how, many years before, he discovered and promoted a young boxer named Tony Danza who went on to star in the TV sitcom, "Taxi." In the famous mob movie, "Goodfellas," Cha Cha was part of the movie´s most memorable scene; he played a member of Billy Batts´ crew. Cha Cha was sitting next to Billy Batts when the memorable line, "Go get your shinebox," was uttered. He has since been involved in dozens of movies and television shows such as "The Sopranos." Cha Cha was also the producer of the film "Mamamia" which won "Best Short Film Award" at the New York International Independent Film & Video Festival in which Tony Danza directed and starred.

This was a night of lessons and memories & a lesson to never judge a book by its cover, let alone a person or a restaurant. We also learned how to dine like a true Italian, as they have done for centuries since the times of the Romans, and we created memories of the greatest meal I have ever enjoyed before or since.

Now it was really getting late. The waiter came out with a small tray of fruits and cheeses that are known as dolce. Interestingly enough, dessert is not often eaten in Italy, as Romans by and large did not have a big sweet tooth. I have to agree with the Romans, since I have never been a big fan of dessert.

The waiter also offered us a selection of caffe or a "digestive" (after dinner drink). Traditionally, coffee is not served until after the meal, and it is always a caffe, never a sugar and cream-laced cappuccino. Caffe is believed to have the effect of capping the flavors of the feast and suppressing the appetite until the next meal.

No true Italian dining experience is complete, however, without a good digestive, and the most traditional of all is grappa. Grappa is a uniquely Italian drink made from the discarded grape seeds, stalks, and stems that are the by-product of the winemaking process.

This night would be our first experience with grappa, and I have to warn you that grappa is an acquired taste. That first sip almost tasted like turpentine, but once I got the hang of it, I was hooked. The key is to serve it chilled in a small glass and sip it slowly. Years later, as we traveled around Italy, we discovered that some Italians like to mix a little grappa in their espresso at the end of the meal. It really takes the bite out of the grappa.

That one evening completely changed our perspective on dining. Later that year, we visited Italy for the first time and have been back several times since. There could have been no better training for dining in Italy than a night with Cha Cha. Now when we visit any Italian restaurant here or abroad, we tell our server that we plan to eat "Italian style" one course at a time, sharing each dish, and taking our time to do so.

You have to make this clear as soon as you sit down. Too many American restaurants try to get you to place your entire order up front, pushing the food through too quickly so they can turn the table over. Many Americans are accustomed to this form of dining. The "Italian style" of dining is so much more relaxed and, besides, you get to try more things on the menu.

As a tribute to Cha Cha, and all of the other great Italian restaurants that we have found over the years, I have organized my recipes in the order they should be served. While many of my recipes are not Italian dishes, they are all prepared with the same method and, most of all, love. If there is one thing I have learned from Italian chefs it´s that cooking is an expression of love that is best served "Italian style" Ñ one course at a time, sharing each dish, and enjoying the moment with the people you truly care about.

The essence of "eating pie with a fork" is to learn to respect and understand the differences in others. Even across our great nation, there are countless local and regional influences that shape the way people think and how they interact with each other. You will find the world we live in will be much easier to navigate if you have ?a healthy respect for the differences in others. In fact, our world would be a much better place if we could all learn to eat pie with a fork.