The Short, Fast Life of Jonathan Van Allen by Nancy Salz

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Jonathan Van Allen’s family and staff had no time to grieve. The day after he was killed in an early morning, one-car accident they had to put on an elegant wedding reception at a restaurant that would soon be Jonathan’s third in South Berkshire County.

The reception was for the son of Ben Bernanke, Chairman of the Federal Reserve, whom Jonathan, 24, had befriended four years earlier under unusual circumstances: He waited on Chairman Bernanke’s table at Pearl’s, the same restaurant he was in the process of buying.

Somewhere between “Good evening. May I start you off with a drink?” and “Thank you for coming,” Jonathan had added Bernanke to his growing group of admirers. Perhaps Jonathan eloquently described an unusual wine or a special entrée.  Although he drank little and ate even less, Jonathan made it his business to discover everything he could about fine wine and food. However, he never patronized with his knowledge. Rather, he shared.

Frequent patrons, of which I was one, would enter Jonathan’s Bistro in Lenox – his first restaurant, opened in October, 2006 when he had just turned 22 – become seated at one of its seventeen tables and feel immediately enveloped and comforted by the warm, coffee-colored walls. At some point during their meal Jonathan would come over to chat. Sometimes he would even get down on his knees so he could talk eye-to-eye. He couldn’t wait to point out the latest items on his menu and ask what you thought. He might even dash for a glass and pour his newest wine so you could taste it.

Of course by sharing Jonathan was also getting “buy-in”: He was making his patrons into advisers, psychological “partners” in his restaurant. Although he truly enjoyed engaging people, underneath he was all business.

Read the full article on the Berkshire Review for the Arts!

Michael Miller