In 1982, Michigan native Peter Colombo opened Alfonso’s Italian Restaurant at age 27 in Casa Linda Plaza, and it’s still standing in White Rock Center today.
Though not born a Texan, Colombo was one by the time he passed away in May, leaving behind his wife of nearly two decades, Pim, several family members and Bruno, his Old English Sheepdog. He would have turned 71 at the end of August.
Photos courtesy of the Colombo family.
Named after his father, Alfonso’s was a community where Colombo made friends with his customers and staff. And they were among the ones who came to see him during his final days after having a stroke.
Even his two ex-wives, who he stayed friends with, visited.
“This is the kind of guy that Peter (was),” his youngest sister Lori Colombo Dunham says. “I guess you can tell that a person’s heart is how they are when they end up divorcing a person.”
Growing up, Lori remembers Peter, the eldest of six siblings and 12 years older than her, as assertive, matter of fact and a decision-maker. He loved being around people, playing hockey and driving in the fast lane, literally.
“He burnt every engine,” she says. “Everybody referenced his heavy metal, his heavy foot.”
Alfonso’s was born through Peter’s lifelong interest in food, his background in hospitality and his entrepreneurial spirit, Lori says. He started working for Hilton as a high school senior and continued his career with hotels until he arrived at the Anatole in Dallas and decided to open a restaurant.
Most of the immediate family worked at Alfonso’s over the years, Lori says. Their father also gave Peter some advice for the recipes — pick the restaurant with the best flavor, and then go to its dumpster to find out which brands are being used. Or at least watch to see which delivery trucks show up.
And that’s what Peter did. Some recipes originated from home, particularly the meat sauce and meatballs, but for the most part, they are his creations.
Like his father, generosity was a defining characteristic of Peter’s personality, Lori says.
“Peter was always offering if you need it, if you need his help, if you need something,” Lori says. “Later in the years when he moved out of state and I was on my own, I didn’t have money for rent. ‘Peter, I need rent.’ ‘Well, what do you need?’ And then next thing I know, there’s a check at my doorstep.”
And she wasn’t the only one to receive this treatment. He gave money to his high school-aged waitresses who needed homecoming dresses. He sent pizzas to hospitals. He donated money to Thailand after hearing about the mid-2000s tsunami.
But Peter wasn’t the gentle type, more like “hard on the outside but soft on the inside” personified.
“His voice sounded like he was from hardcore New York, but he wasn’t,” Lori says. “How he delivered his message was always harsh, but his heart was extremely warm.”
And when doing good deeds for Alfonso’s staffers, he didn’t want recognition, longtime employee Wendy Miller says.
Miller started working at the restaurant in 1986 as a Bryan Adams High School junior and stayed on for about 20 years while also pursuing her education career. As a boss, she says Peter made Alfonso’s fun.
“He would bring cookies or make food for the staff,” she says, in addition to staff outings. “He created a family environment up there.”
This tone extended to the regulars.
“He would go sit with people at their table and hear about what’s happening with their family,” Miller says. “If he knew the kids liked a particular ice cream, then he would get it for them, and he would have it in the back for them when they came in.”
Miller described Peter as a second father, not just someone who mentored her in restaurant operations. He had a place in her wedding. They vacationed together with Peter’s wife and met for dinner often. He also bonded with Miller’s husband.
“He would always call (me), ‘That’s my Wendy, that’s my Wendy,’” she says. “I was his Wendy.”
Since Peter’s passing, people have been making a point to dine at Alfonso’s and pay their respects, Lori says.
“The community has been amazing,” she says. “It’s been very helpful for Pim to just receive the love.”
Lori wants her brother to be remembered as he was at the dinner table, breaking bread with friends.
Alfonso’s Italian Restaurant, 718 N. Buckner Blvd., 214.327.7777
