If you could distill the essence of a restaurant — a beloved neighborhood spot that spanned six decades and as many generations — into a single bowl, Kim Colaizzi Ifft said that at Alexander’s Italian Bistro, her father’s namesake Bloomfield spot, it’d be the wedding soup.
“We grew up with that as kids. That was my great-grandparents’ recipe. What made it special was rolling the little teeny meatballs for hours and hours and hours and hours. And it didn’t matter who you were. If it was one of my girlfriends that came home with me from college, we’d stop in on a Saturday morning to grab some free food and hang out with my dad for a minute. And for him it was like, ‘Oh, so nice to meet you — we’re gonna roll some meatballs.’”
But that wedding soup was like an edible hug and a handshake, too.
“You’d see someone who’d come in and they’d be shaken up and they’d just ask for a table for one and they’d sit there and they were quiet,” Ms. Ifft said, her voice quivering and fighting back tears.
“And you knew that they were coming from the [nearby West Penn] hospital or the Ronald McDonald House or something. We’d send over a cup of our wedding soup and say, ‘You look like you needed this, because this cures everything.’ And it’d usually spark some conversation and if they were sitting by themselves, one of us would sit at their table.
“Those were the people you’d think about and pray about that they’re well and you’re thankful that you had one dinner conversation with them, and maybe that put a smile on their face for a minute.”
Alexander’s, open since 1977 at 5104 Liberty Ave. — and a legacy restaurant of the Colaizzi family for 60 years — closed for good over the weekend. A fixture in Bloomfield since the Carter administration and the silver screen premiere of “Star Wars,” the restaurant prior to that had iterations as Alto’s and Bobby C’s dating to 1958. Those were also run by the Colaizzi family.
Now 76, Alex Colaizzi started working at legendary Pittsburgh restaurants Park Schenley and LeMont at 14, and he stayed with the latter for 49 years. He went to play college football at Baldwin-Wallace in Ohio but withdrew on his first day of classes when his mother died. He came home to help his family.
He still worked at LeMont even after opening and running his namesake, which Ms. Ifft said “was like their version of Cheers.” It was the site of Thanksgiving eve reunions, first dates, tripe on Saturdays for the old Italian men, and her mother’s legendary dahlias on display.
Before there were Christmas popup bars there were Alexander’s annual Christmas sing-alongs. The tiny restaurant was festooned with decorations, French ribbons and a half-dozen trees.
“Every doctor, nurse and car salesman that worked in the neighborhood was there. It was packed to the gills and everyone was dressed to the nines in a Santa suit or a naughty Mrs. Claus suit. It was just such a cool medley of people, in the bar room, dining room and basement.”
She said that her father’s eventual retirement and the restaurant’s inevitable closure were on the horizon, although not imminent, but then the COVID-19 pandemic changed the calculus on everything, hastening the process.
They’d applied for a federal Paycheck Protection Program loan on the very first day, but their application was not processed before the first round of funds were depleted.
Ms. Ifft said that the turn of events is deeply disappointing, but she is also not bitter.
“I don’t want to drag the governor,” she said. “At the end of the day financially it just doesn’t make sense to … wait and maybe one day soon be able to open back up at 25% occupancy.
“Our restaurant is so tight and tiny — part of our charm was you’d be on top of the table next to you and if you liked what they’re talking about, chances are you’ll be in their conversation. You might even be having some of their pasta.
“You want to go out on top, but it’s just so many unknowns, and dad’s 76, so — I don’t want to say fear, because dad’s not afraid of anything — but the unknown … is scary enough at his age that he said, ‘I’m gonna expedite my retirement strategy.’ ”
They donated their perishable inventory to 412 Food Rescue and some soup kitchens.
Her primary regret is that they didn’t get to have a proper goodbye.
“I know every neighborhood has their own little corner restaurant and we were just the local spot in Bloomfield for so long,” she said. “And dad loved, loved, loved being there.
Bloomfield has been so good to us. That’s part of the beauty of what Alexander’s was.”
Dan Gigler: dgigler@post-gazette.com; Twitter @gigs412
First Published: May 8, 2020, 9:49 a.m.
Updated: May 8, 2020, 9:51 a.m.
