I remember when Scoozzi restaurant was new. I worked at a all-night bookshop just down the block, and the waitstaff would come buy magazines after their shifts. These were the days of Fitzwilly’s, Gentrees, the lobster restaurant at the Colony Inn, that high-end breakfast place on Crown, the handmade chocolate delicacies at Thomas Sweets… There were distinctive dining opportunities on every block downtown—and if you think New Haven’s reputation is (undeservedly) bad now, it was even worse back then. Yet there was an unbeatable food-based economy, and Scoozzi’s was riding the new wave of upscale dining. As the years went on, it aged into the role of old standby, though the fare never became traditional.

Live jazz. One of the more adventurous wine lists of its kind. Nouvelle cuisine that you could taste, and could even fill you up.

Mostly I remember the celebrities. I ate at Scoozzi because it’s the site the Yale Rep preferred when I was scheduled to interview an actor or director or playwright over lunch. I’ll never forget standing in line with Anne Kaufman Schneider, the daughter of one of my theater idols, George S. Kaufman, for an after-party at Scoozzi’s on opening night of a rare production of Kaufman (& Katharine Dayton)’s comedy First Lady at the Rep. I had lunch with entire casts of Yale shows at Scoozzi. I regularly interviewed then-Dean of the School of Drama Stan Wojewodski there, and would always try to get him to break into one of his boisterous laughs and see how much I could disrupt the conversations at adjacent tables.

But my most memorable night at Scoozzi’s was the evening I spent with someone I hitherto knew only from mutual friends and amusing faxes: Colleen Van Tassell. She wanted to write a piece for the Advocate, but (for perhaps the last time in her life) lacked confidence in her writing. We met at Scoozzi’s and dissected her work over dinner.

I think I blew my entire week’s paycheck on that meal, but it was worth it. Our waiter turned out to be a local actor whose work I’d seen, and thus was especially attentive. Colleen and I closed the restaurant, and then the bar. The piece got published and was a smash. Colleen eventually came to work at the Advocate. I credit Scoozzi.

That was the Scoozzi I knew. The place abruptly closed last week. The owner has yet to make a formal statement as to why, which has meant that instead of waxing nostalgic, folks are just gossiping. Except me.  Twenty-four years is an extraordinary achievement for any business in any city. I don’t need to digest anything more than that.