“My life is an open book.”
That mantra shines through all of Harry Watkins’ interactions, including with his customers at The Kitchen Consigliere in Collingswood, N.J.
Watkins started as a busser at the Italian restaurant three years ago and quickly moved up the chain of command. He now serves as a senior server, assisting management and largely catering to one section of the eatery — known as Little Italy.
“That’s where I hold court,” he laughed.
Watkins, 34, said he likes to give his diners more than high-quality Italian food.
“People want to come in for dinner but a lot of them want a show too,” he said. “You have to read people; some are so self-involved that you can tell from the word go that they don’t want you to interact. That’s fine, I’ll be out of sight, out of mind and just anticipate when you need ice and do my job. But if you want me to put on a show, I’ll put on a show.”
That showmanship may derive from his theater background — “I tried to make it onto the Great White Way at one point,” he said — or his varied career path.
Watkins, a native of Barrington, N.J., got his first restaurant gig at 15, as a short-order cook at a breakfast spot in Haddon Heights.
He became a busser at Mildred’s in Strathmere, his first front-of-house job, and went on to become a server and bartender at Adelphia in Deptford.
“It was quick cash,” he said. “Back then, it was actually a lot of quick cash. There were times where I was making $1,200 a week. No one has that money anymore, though; the ’90s are over.”
Watkins worked part-time in the restaurant industry while studying to be a Catholic priest for the Diocese of Camden.
The son of a Polish and Irish father and a Filipino mother, Watkins said he was raised in a strictly Catholic household.
“Catholic, through and through,” he said. “But recovered now.”
At the time, he said, the seminary seemed like a fix for his burgeoning sexual orientation.
“I thought it would fix this problem I had, which is how I viewed it at the time. Now I know it’s a part of my identity, who and what I am.”
But, his LGBT identity wound up ending his seminary aspirations.
“I was studying at St. Charles in Wynnewood, and I guess they read the writing on the wall before I did. The archdiocese doesn’t look too kindly on homosexuals as we all know,” he said. “They had an investigation — the court marshal of the Catholic Church — so I resigned. And then the family had questions so my coming-out was kind of forced.”
Watkins eventually headed to New York City to try the Broadway route and ultimately practicing real estate near Wall Street during the post-9/11 rebuild. But, the restaurant business beckoned him again and he moved back to this area, working at the Italian Bistro in Center City, Estia and bartending at Le Bec-Fin.
But, a few years ago, Watkins had a run-in with the law: He started a Dumpster fire that ultimately landed him in county jail for three months.
“I like torching things,” he said, characteristically making light of what he said was a very challenging time; upon his release, he had a felony on his record, making gainful employment challenging.
“I had to check the box on those job applications, so it was like, How am I going to find a job? I walked the streets, from Crystal Lake in Westmont all the way to Collingswood, hitting every restaurant, pizzeria, bakery, I didn’t care,” he said. “When you’re desperate and hungry for money and want to get back into the world, it doesn’t matter. I made my choices and so I had to make the choice to get myself back out there.”
The Kitchen Consigliere was not dismayed by Watkins’ legal trouble. The eatery is owned by former mobster Angelo Lutz, who did several years in prison for racketeering. Lutz is upfront about his past, even incorporating an Italian-Mafia motif into the restaurant, himself among the figures on a large mural that adorns one wall, alongside a caricature of the fictional Tony Soprano and real-life mobster John Gotti.
“My boss is very open with his history,” Watkins said. “He was making books, I was making fires so it’s whatever. We went to the same college, different schools.”
The Kitchen Consigliere serves up home-style Italian cooking.
“It’s whatever you would imagine your Italian mother or grandmother cooking on Sundays. That’s what we’re going to serve you here,” Watkins said, referencing staples like chicken and eggplant parmesan. “It’s not cuisine where you can’t read the name and you’re like, What’s that?”
Watkins works “40-plus” hours per week. Living just a few blocks from the restaurant, he’s able to come in at a few moments’ notice. At the start of his shifts, he checks the day’s operations to prepare for any special events or big parties, and ensures all equipment is set up. He looks over the reservation list and assigns servers and staffers to their stations.
Then, when the doors open, it’s all hands on deck. On a weekend evening, the restaurant can serve up to 300 dinners, and sees upwards of 150 dinners on weekdays.
The restaurant is popular with large groups, hosting everything from engagement parties to christening gatherings to graduation parties. Watkins said he sees a lot of regulars, from families to couples.
“One couple comes in every Saturday at the same time. I know them like clockwork,” Watkins said. “They have their own table. She wants ice for her red wine and he wants a Dr. Pepper with lemon.”
Some diners travel from South Philly for a taste of their Italian heritage, while others hail from the Jersey area.
The area surrounding the restaurant, Watkins said, has become increasingly LGBT-centric.
“We like to say the Pink Mafia brought this town back,” Watkins laughed. “Fifteen or 20 years ago, there was nothing here, but once the LGBTQIA community started coming here, it grew like crazy.”
New Jersey legalized same-sex marriage around the time that The Kitchen Consigliere moved to its current, expanded space. Watkins said he was painting the restaurant when the third same-sex couple to marry in the state rushed over looking for a witness for their City Hall ceremony.
“I’m schlepping around and they came running over and asked me to go over with them. So there’s news cameras and I’m there in my yellow babushka.”
That sense of community in Collingswood, Watkins said, has led to very few run-ins at The Kitchen Consigliere with fussy customers, although he has risen to the challenge of serving such customers in the past.
“When I worked at Adelphia, there was one customer no one ever wanted and I said, ‘I’ll take him.’ This was 10, 15 years ago but I remember he liked Tanqueray and tonic with three ice cubes and extra lime and his wife got an iced tea. And she always wanted a basket of popcorn from the bar on the table,” he said. “They became my regulars and one Christmas came around and he gave me just a wad of cash in my hand — it was like 100 dollars — and his wife was like, ‘Oh, give the boy a card!’ and I said, ‘Screw the card; thank you very much! Merry freakin’ Christmas!’ Some people you can win. Some people are just gruff, so servers don’t want to deal with them. But I’m kind of gruff, so I like the challenge.”
While he’s used to building a rapport with customers, Watkins said, managing other employees is more challenging.
“I’m an old-school person; I was taught by the Greeks and polished by the French. The Greeks say, ‘If you can lean, you can clean,’” he said. “A lot of younger people in this industry don’t have the same work ethic. It’s hard for me to have to verbalize what needs to be done because I just do it. If I see a frayed linen, I reset the table. Why wait for the customer to notice that? I’m meticulous with cleanliness; I could go into some beautiful, upscale restaurant and there could be a shooting in the dining room and I wouldn’t notice that, but I’d see a smudge on a glass or if the salt and pepper shakers aren’t filled.”
It’s those details, Watkins noted, that most people overlook when they think about the restaurant industry.
“I watch these reality shows and they make it look like owning and running a restaurant is easy; you just drop 100 grand and you’re good,” he said. “It’s not easy; it’s very, very difficult.”
Technology is making the industry even more challenging, Watkins said.
When he worked at Le Bec-Fin, the restaurant displayed a sign reading, “No cell-phone usage in the dining room,” a sentiment with which Watkins agrees.
“Society has changed. Cell phones should not be on the table when you go out to eat,” he said. “It wastes time, lowers the profit-margin and makes people’s impatience go through the roof. Some things will take time; if you order a steak well done, it’s going to take a little time. It’s not like scrambled eggs.”
But, even if diners get impatient, Watkins said, he can quell tensions.
“The negative energy they have, I find it as ammunition to do battle with them — to kill them with kindness. I try to come out as the winner,” he said. “Some people just expect to have a bad time; something just crawled up there and died and they have the personality of ramen noodles without hot water. But that’s just them.”