Mario Gagliano (Photo: Michael Donahue)

Growing up, Libro at Laurelwood executive chef Mario Gagliano would rather shred guitar than a head of lettuce.

โ€œI was definitely musically inclined at a young age,โ€ says Gagliano, 27. โ€œI got a cheap guitar from my mom for Christmas when I was in the fourth grade. Just one of those things I picked up on pretty quickly. Just strummed notes, messing around with my fingers, putting them at random spots.โ€

He was serious about music. โ€œI was a rapper. I was pretty mean with it, too. But there was so much money going in and none going out. I was paying for studio time. Paying for discs. At that time, I had to pay to perform for shows and all this. And one day I was just, โ€˜What am I doing this for?โ€™โ€

He helped out at Fratelliโ€™s, which at one time was owned by his mother Sabine Bachmann. Gagliano, who joined his brothers Armando and John-Paul Gagliano, began as a server and dishwasher and later became head cook.

But, he says, โ€œIt was just a job. Granted, it was my motherโ€™s business and all. I was in my late teens, early 20s. I just wanted to do other things. I wasnโ€™t really focused on that.โ€

Things changed after his mother opened Ecco on Overton Park. โ€œI was at Rhodes College playing basketball one day a few months after Ecco opened and Armando calls me and says basically they need somebody on โ€˜garmโ€™ [garde manger]. I didnโ€™t really have a choice. I dropped the basketball thinking Iโ€™m going to come help one day. I came back the next day. I was on that cold side for five years.โ€

Mario eventually began cooking. And he got feedback. โ€œYou would get servers coming back, โ€˜Hey, compliments to the chef.โ€™ Or seeing the plates come back empty. I really started getting satisfaction: โ€˜Hey, I made somebodyโ€™s night with that food.โ€™โ€

His cooking career was sidelined for a few months after he fractured his wrist. He couldnโ€™t go to work, but, he says, โ€œI was infatuated with cooking shows. I was able to read books. I couldnโ€™t do anything because this was right when the pandemic was going on. Nothing much to do. Nowhere to go. All I had was food and trying to figure it out, trying to get as much knowledge as possible.โ€

Mario then went to work at Libro, also owned by Bachmann, inside Novel. โ€œI was pumped. I was super excited to get back there and put what I learned to use.

โ€œIt was the first time I was cooking without Armando being there. He was at Ecco all the time. Any time I had a question about anything I would ask him. Because he wasnโ€™t there, I had to do things the wrong way and figure out the right way to do it by messing up.

โ€œI would just tweak things. Instead of doing this like this, Iโ€™ll do it like this โ€™cause it seemed to come out better. Trial and error.โ€

Monthly specials were daunting. โ€œI figured out how to come up with a good dish. However, Iโ€™m still not one to understand, really, what it means when someone โ€˜puts themselves on a plate.โ€™ I get that itโ€™s something you come up with. But I just need to really understand the โ€˜express yourself through a dishโ€™ kind of thing.โ€

His popular jackfruit pulled-pork vegetarian sandwich is one of his recent specials. โ€œIt was kind of left field.โ€

Mario is confident in his career choice. โ€œOh, yeah, 100,000 percent without a doubt. I get far more satisfaction doing this than music or anything else. I canโ€™t imagine what else Iโ€™d be doing if it wasnโ€™t this. Youโ€™ve got the camaraderie of the kitchen. You have a high-stress job. You have a challenging position. You have to be creative. You have to put in long hours. Youโ€™re going to make mistakes. These are all things I donโ€™t feel like I could do anywhere else and get as much fulfillment out of it.โ€

Michael Donahue began his career in 1975 at the now-defunct Memphis Press-Scimitar and moved to The Commercial Appeal in 1984, where he wrote about food and dining, music, and covered social events until...