“A river cuts through rock, not because of its power, but because of its persistence.” — James N. Watkins
The restaurant business, and all its aspects— positive, negative, challenging, rewarding, complicated, and simple— is my life. I love what I do. Other than my faith, family, and friends, restaurants have brought the most joy to my life. I love creating concepts and developing business plans with others. There’s something about taking an idea sketched on a cocktail napkin and creating a physical, living, breathing concept that feeds people’s bellies and souls, all in an industry that allows people to grow from an entry level position into ownership. I love restaurants.
Unfortunately, I’ll close one this week.
After more than four decades in this business, that is a sentence I hoped I’d never have to write. Closing a restaurant isn’t just about locking the doors. It’s about the people, the team members, the suppliers who’ve stood by us, and the guests who have woven us into the fabric of their lives. When one closes a restaurant, a small chapter is closed in all those lives. It’s a weighty responsibility and a hefty burden, and I bear it fully.
“Failure is simply the opportunity to begin again, this time more intelligently.” — Henry Ford
I’ve closed restaurants before. Sometimes when the lease ran out, sometimes when I sold to partners, and a few times we were the wrong concept at the wrong time. Most of the time I have re-concepted a restaurant into a newer, and differently themed version of that restaurant. I closed one after 9/11 and two— including my oldest and longest running restaurant of 32 years— during Covid. This feels different.
I could probably recite a few reasons why we had to close the doors at Enzo. There were challenges, but they’re the same challenges we face at our homebase restaurants in Hattiesburg and the same ones that everyone in the industry has been facing lately. At the end of the day, none of those reasons would change the fact that I’m the one responsible. I am the leader. The buck stops with me. I probably get way too much credit when things go well, and I definitely deserve the blame when they don’t. I’m here to own it.
“Success consists of going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm.” — Winston Churchill
No matter what the circumstances, I wasn’t going to be like one of those restaurant companies I’ve see over the years that sneaks in overnight, changes the locks, puts a sign on the door, and the first time the team hears about it is when they show up for work the next morning. That’s not how we operate. I owed it to the team and the community to face the reality head-on, with transparency, respect, and responsibility.
It would be easy to point fingers and make excuses, but the reality is, we just couldn’t get it over the hump. We loved this place. We loved Ridgeland, the Renaissance Center, and the people who walked through those doors every day. Our team worked harder than I could ever ask, sticking with us through the toughest times. But sometimes, even when you give it your all, things don’t turn out as planned.
I’m reminded of a Michael Jordan quote that has always resonated with me. “I’ve missed more than 9,000 shots in my career. I’ve lost almost 300 games. Twenty-six times, I’ve been trusted to take the game-winning shot and missed. I’ve failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.” Failure, as tough as it is, isn’t the end. Out of the 26 openings in my career I have closed a few. It’s how I learn, how I grow, and ultimately, how I move forward. Enzo may not have made it, but we will. I will. Henry Ford said, “The only real mistake is the one from which we learn nothing.”
One of the harder components of this isn’t just closing the doors—it’s having to explain the closure to my Italian friend, Enzo Corti. I named the restaurant after him, as a tribute to the warmth, hospitality, and friendship he’s shown me over the years. Enzo is one of my dearest friends from Tuscany, and when I see him next month, I’ll have to sit down and tell him that the restaurant that bore his name is no longer. That’s a conversation I never imagined having, and it weighs heavy on my heart, though again, my burden to bear.
“In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity.” — Albert Einstein
If we can keep a small team intact, we’re going to stay open until September 21st. In the meantime, we’re using all our restaurant contacts and working to make sure every one of our team members lands on their feet and secures a job, and many already have.
Our suppliers have been with us every step of the way, and I appreciate their partnerships. Many have helped us stay afloat through the roughest seas. It’s not lost on me how important those relationships are, and we’re working to ensure that we honor all our commitments to them. We’ve always run an honest and honorable company, and we’re not about to stop now.
What I feel most in this moment is gratitude. Gratitude for the team that made Enzo what it was, and gratitude for the guests who supported us, celebrated with us, and allowed us to be part of their lives for two years.
To our regulars, we would love nothing more than to see you in these final days, to share a meal and a memory, to say goodbye the right way. We’re working with a skeleton crew, but we’re going to see it to the finished line. Enzo was never just about the food—it was about the connections we made, the stories we shared, and the community we built together. Those are the things that matter, and those are the things I will carry with me long after the last table is cleared.
“Storms make trees take deeper roots.” — Dolly Parton
I’ve never been in this business just to serve food. For 43 years, I’ve been here to build something lasting—something that matters to my family and our friends, guests, and team members. And while Enzo’s chapter may be closing, this isn’t the end of the story. The good news is that all our Hattiesburg operations are stronger than they have been in our 37-year history. We’re hitting on all cylinders in the Hub City. We also have two Ed’s Burger Joints in development for the Jackson metro area and a version of our breakfast/lunch concept coming to Gulfport. We will take the lessons we learned recently and add them to our long list of ways to operate a healthy restaurant.
“Perseverance is not a long race; it is many short races one after another.” — Walter Elliot
As we prepare to say goodbye to Enzo, it’s not just a door that’s closing but a chapter full of cherished memories and invaluable lessons. From the joyous rush of our opening night to the hard conversations about closing, each moment shaped us. To our dedicated team, our loyal guests, and steadfast partners who’ve made this journey unforgettable, thank you. While this story concludes, our commitment to creating spaces that feed both bellies and souls is far from over. We are not merely closing the book on Enzo but are turning the page towards exciting new ventures. We can’t start the next chapter of our lives if we keep re-reading the last one.
The spirit of my friend, Enzo will live on in every new project, and I am eager to embark on this next phase of our journey with the same passion and perseverance that have always guided us. Here’s to the next cocktail-napkin concept, new beginnings, and the unwavering belief that the best is yet to come.
F. Scott Fitzgerald once said, “Never confuse a single defeat with a final defeat.” To that, I say…
Onward.
Pasta Roberto
I developed this for a friend’s birthday hosted at my home. It works well with large groups of all ages.
I brought it in as a potential menu item during the initial recipe-testing phase of Tabella. It didn’t have a name, but – as a joke— I listed the temporary, tongue-in-cheek title as “Pasta Roberto,” assuming that we would find a better name before we opened.
As we were getting the restaurant ready to open in the weeks before the launch, I cooked it often for the manager and staff lunches. They called it Pasta Roberto, too. We never came up with an official name and it still on the menu as Pasta Roberto.
1 lb. Dry fusilli pasta
1 gallon Water
¼ cup Kosher salt
2 TB Extra virgin olive oil
½ lb. Italian sausage links, roasted or grilled, quartered, and sliced
¼ cup Shallot, minced
½ lb Porcini mushrooms, sliced (other mushrooms can be substituted)
½ cup Red bell peppers, cut into matchsticks
2 TB Dry white wine
¾ cup Parmigianino Reggiano, grated
¾ cup Marinara sauce
¾ cup Alfredo sauce
Cook fusilli according to the directions on the package.
Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the shallots and cook, stirring frequently until softened, about 2 minutes. Add the sausage, mushrooms and red bell peppers and cook, stirring frequently, about 6-8 minutes. Deglaze the pan with the white wine and allow the wine to cook out completely, about 2-3 minutes.
Fold in the marinara and Alfredo and stir until hot. Add the hot fusilli pasta and the cheese and combine thoroughly.
Divide among six serving bowls.
(Robert St. John is a chef, restauranteur and published cookbook author who lives in Hattiesburg, Miss.)
