We’d cook for free, donate food, you know, work ten-hour days. From the annual Taste of the NFL to a slew of low-key church fundraisers, he was constantly giving his time, effort, and talents to charitable causes in Indianapolis and beyond.īrown was with him for many of those events. Whatever was left over, he gave to those in need. He gave his life to his family, friends, and restaurants. To recount the on-paper, LinkedIn version of Greg’s resume doesn’t really do his legacy justice.
If this was football and we were discussing coaching trees, Greg would be Bill Walsh. Neal Brown, who has run acclaimed spots like L’Explorateur, Ukiyo, The Libertene, and One Trick Pony, was one of Greg’s earliest mentees and friends. Abbi Merriss, a five-time James Beard nominee and head chef of the lauded Bluebeard, came up under his wing, as did Milktooth and Beholder’s Jonathan Brooks, perhaps the only chef to appear in this magazine as many times as Greg. Look around our city: his fingerprints are everywhere. Greg Hardesty was every bit their equal in the world of restaurants.
I’ve written about what Richard Lugar and Bill Hudnut did for Indianapolis sports. But the Fort Wayne native chose to stay true to his Hoosier roots, shattering previous conceptions about food in this city through his talent and tutelage that transformed Indy’s food culture into a legitimate destination. He could’ve stayed in California, a spot he adored, where he probably would’ve won the James Beard Award he so obviously deserved amid the inevitable sneers at “Indianoplace.” After honing his craft on the West Coast he could’ve taken the concepts he used to form the acclaimed H2O Sushi, Elements, or Recess to a more established culinary scene than what was then Indianapolis’, at the time still mostly a mecca of Red Lobsters and Texas Roadhouses. “Everyone loved him, whether you helped him plate that one time 10 years ago, or you were a dishwasher that sweated in the trenches with him through the good and bad, he truly was beloved, respected, and admired.”Īs a chef, Greg could’ve earned that respect and admiration anywhere in the country. “I have never known anyone, regardless the profession, whose reputation was as golden, bulletproof, and airtight as his,” said Nic Kobrehel, who worked as Greg’s right-hand man for the last two years of his life at Studio C, his last project before passing. Those were the memories that people chose to share not because his food wasn’t just as special and memorable – it was absolutely unforgettable – but because Greg Hardesty the world-class chef paled in comparison to Greg Hardesty the world-class person.
There were so many stories about how much he loved his wife, Susan, as well as his daughters, and how deeply he cared about the staff at his restaurants. (Okay, I guess that one is technically about food.) In a Facebook post, another friend remembered Greg lugging a crave case of White Castle sliders around a Colts tailgate. His eldest daughter, Juliet, reminisced about them ditching an IU football game during her sorority’s “Dad’s weekend” to grab pedicures. They talked about how his immense talent would’ve warranted his acting like an equally immense, pretentious prick… except for the fact he absolutely loathed pretentious pricks. Friends brought up his affinity for metal – Metallica and Tool, especially – and oversized flannels with baggy cargo pants. Over the next several hours of Greg Hardesty’s celebration of life, it was answered over and over again.Īlthough he was a multiple-time James Beard Award nominee and the unofficial godfather of Indianapolis’ now-vibrant culinary scene, very few of the memories shared had anything to do with food. Mike Welch, a longtime friend of the decorated chef who passed away after a year-long battle with cancer late last month, posed that question to around five hundred people at the Mavris Event Center in downtown Indianapolis last Sunday.
A photo from Greg Hardesty’s memorial service.
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