Remembering Ric Levit, a Dallas restaurant luminary

Ric Levit believed his character was his currency, He passed away last week, rich beyond measure. He valued the virtues of honesty, loyalty, and unwavering professionalism, weaving them into every aspect of his life.

Whether he was working as a roadie in the ’70s for famous rock bands or navigating the inner circle of Dallas’ restaurant industry, Ric’s journey was punctuated by his gift for storytelling. He spoke in frothy paragraphs, capable of keeping a confidence and spilling the tea all in one breath.

A stint as a cook in the military opened up the idea of cooking as a profession. Ric’s hospitality career began serendipitously a few years later when his then neighbor, Gene Street, asked him to manage the bar at a new restaurant, The Black Eyed Pea. Ric agreed. With a limitless Black Amex card in lieu of a hefty paycheck, he helped build the brand.

He forged friendships with industry titans like Ray Washburn, Larry Lavine, Richard Chamberlain, Avner Samuel, Dean Fearing, Brad Woy, Patrick Colombo, Lucian LaBarba, Bob Sambol, Will Nazar and many others.

He used his love for hospitality to oversee operations at Mi Cocina and Chamberlain’s Steak and Fish House before transitioning to construction oversight for major restaurant projects such as Nick & Sam’s, Haywire, Carbone, Sadelle’s and Bob Sambol’s two Bob’s Steak and Chophouse locations. Though his roles were usually supporting, he brought main character energy to every project he accepted.

Among his many strengths, he was a connector.  A Dallas native who loved the city and its restaurant scene, Ric had a unique talent for casting the unlikeliest of industry characters into three-act plays full of surprising friendships. He created enduring bonds with lifelong friends such as Javier’s restaurant owner Javier Gutierrez, rock stars from his youth, former neighbors, even a seventh grade classmate.

He had an uncanny ability to identify and nurture culinary talent, helping chefs like Samir Dhurandhar and Nick Badovinus blossom in a city better known for Tex-Mex and queso than Cal-Ital and New York strip steaks.

He was unrelenting when it came to giving advice to those he mentored, including Austin Rodgers, Chas Martin, Tom Fleming and brothers Pasha and Sina Heidari. And there were countless others.

If treated well, Ric’s loyalty knew no bounds. But he was not one to tolerate disrespect or dishonesty, and he would close the door until amends were made. A few days before he died, he said he wished there were an app that would automatically screen people attending his memorial service and announce to foes, “What the hell are you doing here?”

Ric’s expertise extended to all aspects of restaurant development, from permitting and purchasing to leasing and operations. His projects were rarely over budget or delayed. He had a knack for making things happen without waiting in line at City Hall, often charming the workers there with candy to cut through the red tape.

Though Ric retired more than a year ago, the relentless Nick Badovinus convinced him to help develop the new bar he’s opening across from Town Hearth. Although too ill to travel, Ric took on the project from his computer in hospice, ensuring it would be a lasting nod to their friendship.

Ric wished he had more time to spend with his family while his kids were growing up. His schedule was non-stop, yet he always found ways to mentor others and use his vast network to help those in need.

“I hope people will remember me as professional, honest and loyal,” he told me from his hospice bed. “I’d do anything to help someone. If they remember me as a good person who tried his best to be professional, honest and loyal, that’s enough.”

Ric was a floodlight of a human being. He somehow made it easier to flesh out ideas, make connections, and feel empowered.

He missed his wife dearly and faced medical setbacks with resilience. Ric’s final days were marked by his unwavering commitment to his friends, daughter Kate and son Sawyer, his grandkids, and his passion for the industry he loved.

“Ric had a way of making everyone feel like they were the most important person in the room,” Pasha Heidari said. “His kindness and generosity were unmatched, and his legacy will live on through the many lives he touched.”

“He cared. He called. He sang you Happy Birthday,” Woy wrote in a remembrance. “My life was better knowing him.“

Rest in peace, Ric. Your legacy lives on in the memories of those who knew and loved you.