Risks pay off for local restaurateur

Picture this: You're sitting at a stoplight when a man runs up to the car and offers you a paper cup of fresh soup, begging you to try it. Either he's wacky or a heckuva pitchman.

Casey Glowacki is both, with a healthy measure of hyper in the mix. Infuse those with a strong work ethic and entrepreneurship, and see why he is one of the area's emerging restaurateurs.

This Lowcountry transplant has a knack for taking risks and making them work.

On the personal side, he started a romance with his future wife through e-mails. They had met at work in Charleston, but she was living and teaching in Honduras. He went there with a ring in his pocket and a proposal in mind, not even a kiss between them.

The chef, 35, once lived in Savannah, started reading the Bible because he was miserably bored and ended up as a churchgoer. He describes himself as a "quiet Christian."

In 2002, Glowacki decided to leave Sal Parco's burgeoning Mustard Seed empire to go out on his own. With Parco's backing, he leased a building at Cannon and Coming streets.

The location was hardly a beehive of activity. Getting ready for the opening of Five Loaves, named for Jesus' miracle in the Bible, Glowacki was staining chairs on the sidewalk. Four hours passed and only one person walked by.

And a menu based on soup and sandwiches? Are you crazy, man? Nobody in Charleston wants soup on a withering summer's day.

Six months later, though, students and young professionals had found Five Loaves, and the restaurant was abuzz. Glowacki expanded into dinner service.

In 2004, he brought a partner, Joe Fischbein, on board. They added locations on King Street and in Mount Pleasant.

Glowacki still thought there was something missing in local dining: "a really funky, creative burger restaurant."

The idea took shape, but the location didn't until the partners checked out North Charleston's new streetscape on East Montague Avenue.

They dropped in at nearby Park Circle Grill, which was for sale.

"Joe and I walked in and had a beer. It screamed Sesame," says Glowacki. That was three years ago.

"It's grown slowly but consistently," says Glowacki. "We finally hit the amount of sales last year that it's profitable. That's what gave us the courage to go forward here."

Here is the most unlikely of places: Citadel Mall. The new Sesame Burgers and Beer, which opened in December, is near Target.

"Same story, different dance," says Glowacki. "Everybody said this is a bad location. This is going to be the demise of your companies. Malls are a dying breed."

Last Saturday, however, the latest Sesame was having its best day. It was packed with diners from the start of lunch to at least late in the afternoon.

"Twenty-five hundred people work at the mall daily," Glowacki says. "We're the only place that sells alcohol, and nobody sells burgers."

So much for the doomsayers.

Go East, young man

Glowacki grew up in Denver, one of two sons of divorced parents on friendly terms. His father had a high-end furniture store, and his mother owned record stores.

He lived with his father until 1988, when he was 13.

"Dad went on a business trip, and he didn't come back," Glowacki says softly, still with disbelief. His father succumbed to a bacterial infection known as the "flesh-eating disease."

"I had to grow up real fast," Glowacki says. He went to live with his mother in Scottsdale, Ariz.

Lying about his age, the 15-year-old got his first job washing dishes at a Mexican restaurant. Every night, the chef let him learn a new recipe. After two or three months, he had made every dish at least once.

Then the chef broke his leg. The manager had no choice but to put Glowacki in charge, overseeing four line cooks, three prep cooks and two dishwashers. "It just came within me," Glowacki recalls.

He finished high school early and moved on to work in higher-end restaurants. At 8700 in Scottsdale, even the busboys wore tuxedos.

"It was when the food was stacked real high. I had never seen food like that before. I loved looking back into the kitchen. The chefs were so professional. I really wanted to be in the kitchen."

Glowacki arrived in Charleston in 1994. The plan was for him to enter culinary school. He was 20.

He decided against attending Johnson & Wales University (now in Charlotte). But he was stuck with a lease and needed a job.

The Omni (now Charleston Place) hired him to do butchering, and within a few months, Magnolias also took him on. Chef Donald Barickman was a mentor.

"He was intense, passionate and successful. ... I appreciated the fact he could juggle a family," Glowacki says.

At Magnolias, he mastered new aspects of the business -- from expediting (the "cop" between the kitchen staff and servers) to scheduling. But as Glowacki saw everybody in the kitchen advancing, he feared he would be left behind. He decided to get that degree.

Thanks to an advanced-placement program, Glowacki finished the New England Culinary Institute within a year. He returned South for a 10-month externship with the renowned Elizabeth on 37th restaurant in Savannah.

Chef-owner Elizabeth Terry has been called the "Alice Waters of the Southeast," and she, too, made a lasting impression on Glowacki. Her teaching style was motherly, but her kitchen ran like clockwork.

Moreover, "Her food was the most simple, unadulterated food I'd ever seen. She liked a lot of natural flavors. She had an extremely sensitive palate."

Glowacki soon got job offers, and came back to Magnolias as shift leader for a $24,000 a year. "I didn't know what to do with all that money," he says with a laugh.

Meanwhile, he started hanging out at the Mustard Seed on his nights off. "Sal (the owner) and I hit it off right off the bat."

Before long, Parco hired Glowacki as a head chef.

"That was the chance to have the buck stop with me," says Glowacki.

From the beginning, he was involved in every aspect of the restaurant. Then, as Parco began adding new Mustard Seed locations, he asked Glowacki to help get them up and running. Glowacki was promoted to corporate chef.

Moving on

By 2002, he was feeling the proverbial burnout. Reading yet another order for "pecan chicken" one night, he realized he wanted to move on. "I think I've done a billion. That was the pivotal ticket."

That and going through a divorce made Glowacki start looking for a new path, the one that led to the first Five Loaves.

Glowacki and Fischbein feel good about their prospects and being partners. Fischbein handles more of the business side, and Glowacki focuses on the food and creative touches. Both say they like each other's work ethic.

Fischbein smirks playfully when asked about Glowacki. "He's always clowning around trying to get everybody in good spirits."

Glowacki gives a lot of credit for where he is to his wife, Rachel. They have been married five years and have two sons.

"I don't know if my success would have been as much if not for Rachel, cheering me on and letting me be Casey."

Teresa Taylor is the food editor. Reach her at food@postandcourier.com or 937-4886.