He passed away, at the restaurant, on July 22, after a heart attack.
The family announced his death on social media on Wednesday last week, saying Alberico had loved the people of Tokoroa and being a part of its community.
“A mighty tree has fallen. We are deeply saddened to have to announce that our dearest, big-hearted, generous soul Alberico, who laughed, sang, served and cooked beautiful food for the community for 40 years passed away [on] Monday afternoon.”
At the same time, he learned how to cook from his mother and aunt. The latter ran a traditional Italian taverna, a working men’s lunch and dinner bar, where Alberico would also help out.
“That’s the kind of person he was. Always looking out for everybody.
“He was 18 when he came to New Zealand ... That’s when the compulsory military training starts in Italy,” Leandro said.
The training was unpaid, but Alberico’s family needed multiple incomes to survive.
As his father was already in New Zealand, working as a geometer on a tunnelling project, Alberico followed in 1969.
However, despite Alberico’s skills in the trades, the only job he found upon arrival was as a kitchen hand in the canteen which fed the workers setting up the Tongariro Power Scheme.
A short while later, he transitioned from the kitchen to the construction site.
“[The Tongariro Power Scheme] was a big part of his life.
“He often talked about how he heard [fellow immigrant workers] crying themselves to sleep and how they all missed their families – and the [Italian] food.
“One of the first meals they had after arriving in New Zealand was at the Tokoroa Hotel. All of them cried over the food – well-done steak with eggs and chips.”
The work on the power scheme was hard, physical labour. There were not a lot of machines, so the heavy lifting was done by the workers.
This meant they would frequently get injured.
“Alberico jumped through the ranks because he was really good at coming up with systems to make people’s lives easier,” Leandro said.
“One night, he decided to build a coaster [lifting] system instead of going to sleep. In the morning, his superior blew Dad apart like, ‘Who gave you permission to do this? You took materials without asking’ that sort of thing.
“But Dad was unphased. He just said, ‘You wait and see how productive we are going to be’.”
Initially, the project leaders were not a fan of Alberico’s way of working. Leandro said his father even got fired a couple of times and at one point he was sent home to Italy.
“He was very accurate and anti-authoritarian. He had no patience for anyone who didn’t know what they were talking about.”
But due to his skills, Alberico wasn’t out of work for long.
“He was asked to come back [to the power scheme]. The clever-clogs that he was, he’d say, ‘Sure, I come back, but I want a first-class ticket’.”
In 1971, at the University of Waikato dorm rooms in Hamilton, Alberico met Rachel, a teaching student.
“He was chaperoning his friend who was seeing a friend of Mum’s. On the way through the hallway of the dorms, [Alberico] saw [Rachel] sitting in her room because the door was open,” Leandro said.
“After I graduated, I always wanted to go travelling for three years. But this gentleman convinced me to spend the rest of my life with him instead,” Rachel said.
Shortly after their wedding, Rachel and Alberico moved to Moawhango, near Waiōuru, and later Tūrangi, where Alberico worked at El Burcio as a bartender in the evenings, in addition to his work at the Tongariro Power Scheme.
After his contract with the scheme ended in 1983, Alberico thought about opening his own restaurant.
“He was very close with the owner of El Burcio and together they took a trip to Tokoroa. It was a bustling town, very industrial,” Leandro said.
So, Alberico opened the only Italian restaurant in town, first leasing a premise, formerly known as the Sportsman’s Arms, on Mannering St, before buying a building on Logan St in 1997, where it is located now.
“He was so happy [when he was] cooking. For big functions and events, he would make spiedo, a traditional Italian dish from his hometown. It’s a bit like a spit roast. He brought down the machine for it from Italy.”
The only dish Alberico wasn’t too fond of was Hawaiian pizza.
“He would have loved to take [it] off the menu,” Leandro said.
Rachel added: “When we increased our prices a while ago, we increased the Hawaiian pizza more than any other pizza.”
Aside from cooking, Alberico was a keen golfer, an “avid gardener”, and he liked tinkering in his shed at home, curing meat and distilling his own grappa.
“He was a big talker and so knowledgeable. Him and Mum loved The Chase,” Leandro said.
“He loved teasing people and had a big belly laugh. He always had a glint in his eyes and created levity, showed people how to have a good time.
“And he loved to sing. Visitors to the restaurant will probably remember him singing opera, mostly O sole mio, but I will remember him singing [songs of] Adriano Celentano and Fabrizio de Andre,” Leandro said.
In recent years, Alberico’s health declined, but that didn’t stop him from cooking. In April, Alberico’s Italian Restaurant celebrated 40 years in business.
When he suffered the heart attack, Rachel and Alberico were just about to embark on a holiday to see family and friends.
In alignment with his wishes, Alberico was cremated. While the restaurant is currently closed for business, Rachel and Leandro are there most days.
“We set up a little tribute table for him with pictures and his ashes. People are welcome to come down and say their goodbyes,” Leandro said.