10/06/2026
From Thee Gentle Giant...
Ten years. I still don’t totally know how we pulled that off.
I’m not a restaurateur. I was a guy from Pittsburgh who got tired of driving an hour for decent ribs, bought a smoker, and decided Pearl River felt like a town that would let a stranger try. My buddy Max Davis called me a gentle giant one day and the name stuck. We started turning 7 North Main into something in 2016. It took longer than I told anybody it would. Rent, side work, licenses, and a lot of nights I wasn’t sure anybody was coming.
Somebody was already here, though, and they showed us the ropes. The brewery down the street had already figured out how to win this town over. They led the way. We watched, we learned, and then we tried to earn our own stool at the bar.
You let us.
We wanted good food and a good room. More Than Just Craft. A place you could walk into and set down whatever you were carrying. Dinosaur names on the b**r board. A mug club where people started recognizing the mugs before the last names. Trivia, bingo, co****le, live music, birthdays, first dates, the regular who just needed the same stool. We even rolled a skatepark in here for a day with Greenwood Lake Skatepark. Shout-out to Kurk Koziel. If you were here, you remember. A room everybody could call home. That was the point. It still is. The people make up this place.
Does anyone remember when I cooked whole hogs on the street? Smoke going up North Main, people stopping because they had to. I still think about the couple who had anniversary reservations somewhere else. They were on their way to dinner, caught the barbecue smell in the air, canceled the plans, and came here instead. Wood will do that. If that was you, I hope the night was worth the reservation you gave up.
Love to Andy and his wife at Ichiban, up the street. Some of the hardest working people I have ever met. Great people. A true American story. If you haven’t eaten there, go.
The b**r got as good as it did because of Nick Carnicelli. Super talented. The kind of brewmaster who makes the hard stuff look quiet. Jurassic, the la**rs, the seasonals, the board that kept changing because he wouldn’t leave a b**r alone if it could be better. He’s the proud owner now of Noble Experiment Brewing in West Nyack. If you loved what he poured here, go see what he’s building. . He earned it.
Honorable mention to Jim Stokes. He helped with literally everything. Getting equipment in the door. Testing fish for Lent. Sitting down with a b**r and talking when that was the only thing that was going to get me through the night. He has his own day job, and I still always knew I could call him. He was, and still is, my work wife. A great family man. Same as a lot of the folks around here.
And Mikey, from Russo’s House of Pizza. I miss you. You’re still a star.
A lot of good people came through this room. Staff who carried shifts I couldn’t. Regulars who became the reason the lights were worth turning on. And Julie. My wife has been next to me the entire time. She dealt with me through all of it. The long nights, the money, the version of me that came home already defeated. We have three kids now. Philomena, George, and Elizabeth, a month old. This place let us buy a house. It let us employ people and hand somebody a shot they didn’t have on Monday. That still matters to me.
The kitchen changed because my body did. Three bulging discs in my back. Tears in both hips, cam deformities. That’s what finally pulled me off the line. Old-school wood-fired barbecue was the original promise, and it cost me. This month we welcomed Michelle in as our new chef. I’ve been working close with her so I can leave you a menu that’s still worth the visit. Please welcome her into your stomachs.
I’m not going to pretend I loved it the whole time. A lot of days I grew to hate this place. The stress. The small, rudimentary thinking you get trapped in when you’re just trying to make payroll. I picked up a kind of PTSD from it. The feeling of being defeated, over and over, in the same four walls. Some of you felt that on me. I’m sorry for the nights I did.
But this room taught me more than I knew I was learning. After ten years of this, talking to people got easier. Not just restaurants and breweries. Fortune 500s. CEOs. Friends who just need somebody who’s already failed at the thing they’re scared of. I didn’t get that from a book. I got it from North Main. Try to always leave a place better than when you got it. That’s the job. I hope we did.
It also sent me toward public service. I joined the Montvale Fire Department. It’s a good thing to do, and I’d encourage it. Funny enough, the fire department already saved me once, back when I was building this place and almost blew up the city block. Sorry, Chief Morrison. And thank you to Matt Smith of Smith Plumbing and Heating, who helped me cap the gas line that snapped. I am still here because people like that show up.
We didn’t close for a single day in the pandemic. Not one. The pit stayed lit and the door stayed open because this town needed that, and we were stubborn enough to be it. We poured for fundraisers. We helped stand a farmers market back up. We handed the bar to neighbors when they needed it.
Over the next month we’re handing the keys to new ownership. They’re putting a stage in the back, cleaning the place up, keeping the traditions that made this room matter, and fixing what needed fixing. John will be bringing the entertainment going forward, and it’s going to be good. Welcome them the way you welcomed us. Leave it better than you found it. We’ll be rooting for you.
Come drink with us while you still can. On the 14th we’re hosting Trapt. Friday, October 30, is the business trick-or-treat, and we’ll be out on the street with b**rs the way we always are. Saturday, October 31, is Halloween. I’m firing the old smoker one more time. Wood-fired barbecue, the way we started, with bands through the day. November 4, Mini Kiss. Please come enjoy it. If you’ve got a photo or a video from any of these years, send it to . We want those years on the wall while we still can.
My next chapter is over at the Montvale Farmstand, on the old DePiero’s ground at 156 Summit. (https://www.instagram.com/montvalefarmstand/) . Healthier choices. Barbecue once a week. A real farmers market. Farm-to-table dinners, a Christmas market, creativity, flavor, and the preservation of food cultures. Mostly I want to pull the talent back out of people who locked it away. We’ll be working with some good ones. A relaunch is coming. Follow along.
Thank you for ten years. Come raise one with us. The door’s still open.
Cheers,
Matt
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