photograph by bruce vanwyngarden
Nancy Lucchesi serves a Piña Pony Club in a glass or a can.
“I’m a cop turned barmaid,” says Nancy Lucchesi, with a laugh. “I actually just volunteer here to help Tony and Basma …”
The words are barely out of her mouth when Lucchesi’s young granddaughter, Amira, speaks up to defend her honor: “That’s not really true. She says she just helps my dad, but actually she does really work here.”
So that’s straightened out.
My interview with Lucchesi is taking place in a booth at her son and daughter-in-law’s establishment, Lucchesi’s Beer Garden, and Amira is a charming part of the package.
“How did you become a cop?” I ask Nancy.
Suddenly, Amira gets distracted, crawls over her grandmother, and heads elsewhere, bored with the guy asking questions. Lucchesi smiles and continues, unfazed.
“I was born and raised in Memphis,” she says, “and after I graduated from Whitehaven High School, I went to work one summer for the Sheriff’s Department — and stayed for 47 years. I became a law enforcement officer.”
“That’s a long time,” I say. “I guess you put away a lot of bad guys.”
photograph by bruce vanwyngarden
“Yeah, well, that’s normally what we deal with — bad guys. When I started in the 1970s, women were not really working anywhere in the department except maybe in the jail and in the courts. There was just a handful of us. I saw a lot of big changes through the years.”
Lucchesi worked her way up through the ranks to supervisor and then to chief inspector, serving under nine different sheriffs. In 2020, she decided it was time to change things up.
“I remember sitting at work one day,” she says. “And I thought, ‘I’m paying for a retirement that I’m already maxed out in and I still have some compassion in my heart. I’m going to leave while I still love people.’”
Lucchesi’s son, Tony, and his wife, Basma, had just taken over Raffe’s Deli from Basma’s parents and Lucchesi decided she wanted to help them out with their new venture. “I have a nice pension,” she says, “so I just volunteered.” That volunteer job has grown to seven days a week, so Lucchesi has obviously found a new calling.
“I love it here,” she says. “I tend the bar and work as a server. And I’m also the one who likes to clean stuff up. I do it for physical and mental health. I’ve been working since I was 14 and I just couldn’t stay home.”
“I assume you’ve had to learn a lot about beer,” I say.
photograph by bruce vanwyngarden
“My son has taught me everything I know because he is a beer enthusiast. And Basma is the one who keeps everything in check. She grew up in this business. We serve great food: baba ghanouj, hummus, salads, and a lot of wonderful sandwiches. Tony comes up with the sandwich of the month. This is their place. They built it from scratch,” she says, proudly.
“So what have you learned about beer?” I ask.
“People will ask you to pick a beer for them and you have to find out what their style is first — sweet, sour, dry, whatever,” she says. “One of my first jobs here was to stock the cooler. Tony alphabetizes everything by style, so that’s how I learned the styles. And I always try to at least sip any beer we serve, so I have an idea of what to recommend to people if they ask for a certain flavor.”
“What’s in style these days?”
“A lot of the younger generations like sweet and sour pastry beers,” says Lucchesi.
“Pastry beer? That’s definitely a new one for me.”
“Why don’t you try one?” she asks, as we head to the bar.
I’m not one to argue with a law enforcement officer, so a moment later a beer with the unlikely name of Piña Pony Club is sitting before me. It’s described on the can as a “fruited sour dragonfruit Mai Thai” and it’s from Oozlefinch Beers and Blending of Fort Monroe, Virginia. That’s a lot to take in, and I’m guessing I won’t like it much, because I’m a crabby beer traditionalist and “Oozlefinch” just bugs me.
But it’s not bad at all. It’s a tangy, fizzy concoction and could be a nice light alternative to a cocktail on a hot day. Maybe even with ice? I just had to get over my expectation of what beer is “supposed” to taste like. It was a case of arrested development, I guess. Har. Sorry. Don’t make me pull this story over.
Anyway, go cop a beer from Nancy Lucchesi. She knows what she’s doing, and she’s got you covered.
Lucchesi’s Beer Garden, 84 S. Reese Street
