There are some people who walk into your life like a Fourth of July sparkler: bright, warm, impossible to forget. And then there’s Mama Gale Parker, who struts in like the whole fireworks show. Much like the decor in her Inman Park restaurant Amore e Amore.
If you’ve ever stepped inside Amore e Amore, or its beloved predecessor Il Localino, you’ve already met Mama Gale, even if you don’t realize it. You’ve felt her energy. She’s the heartbeat in the room; the voice that says, “Eat, darling, you look hungry;” the woman fussing over your kids like they’re her own grandbabies; and the reason every table somehow feels like the best table in the house.
But long before she became Atlanta’s unofficial Minister of Pasta & Love, Gale was a Jewish girl from Brooklyn. She lived through wild ’70s nights, the kinetic buzz of Broadway lights, and the beautiful chaos of a city that never, ever sits down. For decades, she was in marketing and planned large-scale, fancy sporting events.
A Brooklyn Girl Finds Herself in the South
“I’m a New Yorker,” she says, “Brooklyn born, 15 years in Manhattan… I was young, single, and living it up.” She reminds me of me, but in reverse. I left the South for the bright lights of New York. Like her, I have loved both places equally and for entirely different reasons. But I digress… For Gale, life took a sharp turn when she divorced and packed up her children for a new start in Atlanta. She wanted a whole different rhythm. Something softer. Her ex moved down too so the kids could have stability. And one night in this brand new Southern life, she met chef Giovanni Ferro. She calls their meeting destiny. “A lightning bolt moment,” in her words. I believe her. Some folks are meant to collide.
He was very Italian. Straight out of Venice, Italy. He fed Sinatra and Pavarotti; she wrangled celebs and sports legends. Every reason in the world to think it would never work… but fate had other plans.
“We met in Atlanta over the phone,” she says. “I knew my life would never be the same just from the sound of his voice.” After years of working together at Asti Trattoria in Buckhead (he cooked, she did the marketing), they retired. It didn’t last long. They decided to get back in the game and take over a little Inman Park restaurant at 2 a.m. on September 30, 2000… and then opened it for business again at 10 a.m. the next morning. No time for fear. No time for hesitation. Just two people who believed deeply in hospitality, in feeding people, and in creating a place where strangers felt like family.
They kept the name Il Localino for a long time. Kept the college kids who didn’t know anything about “birthin’ no babies,” as Gale laughs, quoting Gone With the Wind. And then they worked for 139 consecutive days, 24 hours a day. They handled plumbing, painting, cooking and serving all themselves. They built not just a restaurant, but a world.
Before long, Il Localino became one of the most adored dining rooms in town. Gale and Giovanni built it with pure love. They asked people what they wanted to eat, what they wanted to drink, how they wanted to feel. And then they gave it to them. “People lined up around the block when they heard Giovanni was back in the kitchen,” she says. That kind of devotion does not happen by accident.
The Birth of a Cult Classic
Then, years later, came the magic. See, Gale loves the Wynn Las Vegas. It’s one of her and Gio’s favorite hotels. She adores how the hotel uses oversized flowers and theatrical decor to make people feel transported. In a flash of inspiration while in the Wynn’s lobby, she thought to herself, if she could make people feel something that special, then she could create a restaurant experience no one would ever forget.
So she went big. Then bigger. Then outrageous! In the best possible way. A Wizard of Oz theme that had people grinning from ear to ear. Tons of poinsettias and hanging Santas at Christmas. Hundreds of balloons for Valentine’s. Sex and the City. Harry Potter. Spring florals. Bubbles. Hats. Lights. Circus vibes. If it sparked joy, she added it. It became part of their signature look and their signature feeling. The place always feels like a celebration and the celebration is always for you.
Italian Hospitality with Southern Heart
After the pandemic, they reopened the restaurant as Amore e Amore. “Southern hospitality,” she pauses, “there’s no hospitality like true Italian hospitality,” she says. “And when you mix them together, you get us. You get home.” And she means it. At her restaurants: Kids aren’t shushed. Strangers aren’t alone. Bad days melt. Good days get better. And everyone… no matter their outfit, attitude, or backstory, gets loved on.
Unless you’re wearing something you wouldn’t wear in front of your grandmother! If she would not let her own grandmother see her in a certain outfit, then she will kindly but firmly ask you to leave or change in the car. It made me laugh because that is such a Southern mama move. Protective. Classy. Loving with a little bit of tough.
She Built a Family, Not a Business
Her old-school kitchen staff has been with her for decades. Her dishwasher learned the job right there. Twenty five years later, he’s now the head chef. Guests she met decades ago now bring their children. People escape hurricanes from New Orleans and Florida end up at her tables. She’s fed everyone from CEOs to homeless people because love is not a selective sport.
“For those three hours, you belong to our family,” she says. “And we love you like you’re ours.”
That’s what makes Amore e Amore more than a restaurant. It’s a place where love hangs from the ceiling along with the disco balls and witch hats.
73 Years Young and Still Throwing the Best Party in Town
“I never thought I’d live this long,” Gale says. “Every day is extra. Like a gold star from the first-grade teacher.” And every day she gives that gold-star feeling to everyone who walks through her door.
This Brooklyn girl has a Southern softness now. She’s warm, nurturing, a hug disguised as a human. But she never lost the New York edge. It’s what makes her magic. A little brass. A lot of heart. And an instinct for hospitality that feels like being wrapped in a cozy blanket while someone hands you a plate of linguine and tells you that everything’s going to be okay.
And every time I sit in her wildly decorated dining room, eating linguine with clams or twirling spaghetti and meatballs under a ceiling full of twinkle lights, I think to myself how lucky we are that a Brooklyn girl came South and decided to stay.
She brought love with her. And Lord knows, we can never have too much of that in Atlanta.