Saying Arrivederci to “Lucky Leonardo”

Ask people to describe Leonardo Ruscitto and the stories come fast: Santa at Proof of the Pudding’s holiday parties, a camera that never left his side, playing an ice cream man at Guy Thompson’s retirement party, a boat full of chefs digging for clams near Skidaway Island, a tour of Copenhagen that Chef Vagn Nielson helped plan, Aperol Spritzes in Italy. And at dinner, his favorite question: “Are you going to finish that?”

“He was life himself,” says Nielson, founding chef and culinary curator at Proof of the Pudding, who knew him for some 40 years. “In any setting, he became the center of the party.”

For Atlanta’s chefs, that party often started in a parking lot. You could tell a meeting of the Atlanta chapter of the American Culinary Federation was over when the chefs walked out and gathered at Leonardo’s car. “He’d pop the trunk, and we would have shots of limoncello,” remembers Chef Ron Horgan, the chapter’s former president and longtime chef at Ansley Golf Club. “It was the first pop up,” Horgan says.

That was Leonardo: a bon vivant and a real character who could talk to anyone and make them feel like an old friend. “He could just walk up to people in a room and he’d introduce himself and he’d start talking to them,” says Philip Meade, a longtime friend and travel companion, “and the next thing you know, it was like they were friends for 20 years.”

Leonardo was never a chef and never wanted to be one. Yet every chef in town seemed to know and respect him. To Thompson, a retired restaurateur and former owner of Proof of the Pudding, he was “Lucky Leonardo,” always in the right place at the right time. The friends who shared his table say he belongs in the story of Atlanta’s early culinary and hospitality scene. He died September 2026 in Italy, leading one of the food and wine tours he loved.

Atlanta, Meet Gelato

Leonardo introduced Atlanta, and possibly the entire Southeast, to gelato. “That was like, whoa, what is this stuff?” Horgan says. “He upped the game on international cuisine, I would say.”

Proof of the Pudding was Leonardo’s first gelato customer. “I think I’d only been there a couple of years,” Nielson says, “when this man showed up, and wanted to sell us gelato.”

Meade says Leonardo was the first to sell gelato in the South, making it in small batches and even selling it at the 1996 Summer Olympics. His business closed after larger companies entered the space, undercutting his pricing, but while it lasted, “He had a good time doing it.”

A Friend to Every Chef

Wherever Atlanta’s hospitality crowd gathered, Leonardo was there: restaurant openings, association meetings, fundraisers, holiday parties. “You could always count on him being there with a big smile on his face,” Thompson says. Horgan remembers him as the culinary community’s unofficial photographer, documenting meetings, golf tournaments and Christmas parties. He took many event photos for Restaurant Informer, as well.

Leonardo earned a degree from the University of Florida, where, Meade says, “With hard work and dedication, he crammed a four-year degree into only seven years. His degree was in journalism but really he majored in entertainment.”

Leonardo loved chefs, and they loved him back. A few of the organizations he was involved with include Les Marmitons, the Executive Chefs Association and the Georgia Restaurant Association. Through Les Marmitons, a men’s gourmet cooking club, he brought Atlanta chefs into the kitchen with home cooks eager to learn, then sat down to dinner with all of them. “He never wanted to become a chef, but he wanted to know them, and he wanted to enjoy their restaurants and good food,” Meade says.

Nielson counts Leonardo among the people who helped build the Atlanta food scene. “It takes more than just a chef and a great restaurateur. It takes people like Leonardo and other characters like that to be part of it.”

Tours by Leonardo

Leonardo’s second act, as Thompson tells it, started with more luck. A client wanted to see Italy and offered to bring Leonardo along, all expenses paid. From that trip he built a successful business that promised to “immerse you into the rhythm of the culture,” with a tagline that was pure Leonardo: “Forget Cooking Classes – Join Us For Eating Lessons!” As Thompson puts it, “it would all be centered around food and different restaurants.”

Italy was his first love, but his groups also explored the food, wine and culture of Spain, Greece, Switzerland, Denmark, Argentina, South Africa, Australia, Canada and the California wine country. When Meade asked for a trip covering “Italy top to bottom,” Leonardo had a bigger idea: “Why don’t we start in Zurich, and we can take the train through the Alps?”

Along the way, there was always something to learn. Chefs traveled with him to Italy for cooking classes and to see how cheese and balsamic vinegar were made. He wanted travelers to live a place, not just look at it.

One Last Pour

Leonardo never stopped building. The limoncello from his trunk, made at home from a recipe given to him by a lemon grower on the Amalfi Coast, was meant to become a brand. Until COVID closed most restaurants down, he and Meade had a distiller, a label and bottles lined up for a commercial launch. He had just restarted the project when he died.

Looking back through 20 years of photos, Meade says nearly everyone shows Leonardo with a drink or food in hand and a grin on his face. “He always wanted to make people happy, and he was very good at it.” A celebration of life is planned for late February or early March. Details will be posted on www.italytoursbyleonardo.com.

Leonardo spent his final days the way he spent so many others: showing a group of travelers around Italy. “He could probably not have wished for a better place to close his eyes,” Nielson says.

Life Lessons from Leonardo

Show up. He was at every opening, meeting and fundraiser. The friendships he made there later helped grow his businesses.

You don’t have to be a chef to matter. Hospitality needs connectors, promoters and guides.

Give before you take. He gave chefs his limoncello for years before he tried to sell it and shared his photos with anyone who could use them.

Choose your partners carefully. When a golf-tour rep pitched him a deal over lunch, then left without paying, Leonardo walked away. “He was particular about who he would associate himself with,” Horgan says.

Do it because you love it. “Leonardo did what he did because he really enjoyed doing it,” Nielson says.

Toby Bloomberg, founder of Diva Foodies, has been called a social media “O.G.” She began telling food stories online in 2006 when she launched the first culinary character blog for Gourmet Station. Since then, she has helped chefs, restaurants and craft “foodpreneurs” build relationships through strategic digital storytelling. She is a member of the Atlanta chapter of Les Dames d’ Escoffier International.