04/20/2020
My name is Paola Pugliese. Ettore and Piera are my parents. I am the one who’s been spearheading the operations at Vesuvio (with my aunt Rita - who is co-owner) the last several weeks while my dad has been in isolation at home and most specifically, during the last week since we announced our closure.
The last week has been heart wrenching. The outpouring of emotion from customers and staff has been overwhelmingly touching, and I am grateful to hear kind words in this time of grief and mourning for this business that has been ever-present in my life since birth.
I was the person taking food orders from the people who spent upwards of 4.5 hours in line. I can’t tell you how many people thanked us for feeding them for years, while others congratulated us on a well-deserved retirement, and most touchingly, several people teared up while telling me they were glad to get one last taste of their childhood.
Arriving at Vesuvio and seeing that people had already begun lining up 4 hours before we were able to open our doors was astounding. Our head chef, John, decided to hand out a cup of soup to warm them, and I was so grateful for his heart-felt idea.
Our dining room managers Shane and Nestor came in, unbidden, to help me. I’m sure they needed to be a part of our last few days in order to say goodbye, as much as I needed them.
The City helped us keep everyone safe by blocking off the curb lane outside Vesuvio and set up pylons every 2 meters, so that customers could easily maintain social distance.
We expected to be busy, but we never expected what transpired. The learning curve was dramatic, but every day we figured out how to do it a little bit better. Gauging the amount of supplies we’d need was equally as difficult as actually prepping them once they arrived - just one example: Rob, the manager in the takeout, had to drive out to Hamilton to pick up 2 cases of pepperoni for 8am on Sunday morning.
Last night, after we’d closed the doors to the public, we made the last pizza for my mom and dad. Secretly we drove in a 5-car caravan to their house and delivered the last Vesuvio pizza to their door. We rolled up flashing our high beams and paid our respects to the people who created the best and biggest family anyone could have the honour to be a part of.
The whole experience has been so emotionally charged for me that merely writing this has me in tears. There’s no way I’m ready to speak about it in person.
Spearheading the final days has been a privilege.
Thank you Toronto, for the kindness you’ve always shown us.
Paola