At age 10, Larry McGuire made bagels, cakes and intricate pastries at home.
At age 16, he prepped food for innovative Austin chef Lou Lambert, becoming his pizza maker.
At age 21, he helped open and operate a restaurant for chefs Lambert and Grady Spears inside a Sugar Land corporate hotel.
At age 23, he opened his first restaurant, Lamberts Downtown Barbecue, in partnership with his mentor, transforming a former general store into one of the Second Street District’s signature venues.
Soon, he will affix the jewel to the crown: A re-imagined Jeffrey’s, the Clarksville landmark and once one of the toniest restaurants in town.
He respectfully — and astutely — retained the original name cultivated by founders Jeffrey Weinberger and Ron and Peggy Weiss since the 1970s.
The plan to revive Jeffrey’s, formerly a West Austin power spot, is as ambitious as anything attempted by his natural competitors in the high-end Austin food game: David Bull, Paul Qui, Tyson Cole, Shawn Cirkiel, Josh Watkins, Jesse Herman or Delfo Trombetta.
Lambert thinks McGuire has few rivals among those who create unique standalone restaurant concepts.
“Larry has the ability to totally understand restaurants,” he says. “It’s not something that can be taught. Like great singers or surgeons, you either have it or you don’t. And Larry has it — the innate ability and talent to conceive, design and operate restaurants.”
Steve Wertheimer, owner of the legendary Continental Club and a McGuire Moorman Hospitality company partner, says that McGuire pays attention to all the essential details.
“In practical terms, that means that setting an excellent plate of food in front of the patrons is his minimum standard,” Wertheimer says. “The places all feel like they are part of the fabric of this community and have been here for decades as opposed to feeling brand new. They all have legs.”
While pleasing customers and building seven distinct brands, McGuire has become as adept at retaining employees and investors in a famously demanding business.
“I was going to be one of those tough kitchen dudes and work 70 hours a week,” McGuire admits. “Now I’m older and a CEO with 400 employees. My job is to create a culture within our company that is sustainable. I can’t push my people to work 80 hours a week. We’re trying to develop into a smart company.”
Austin born, Austin bred
Darkly muscular, Austin native McGuire offers a handshake almost as rough and firm as his mentor Lambert’s. Growing up in Zilker and Travis Heights, he was an athlete ensconced in an artistic family.
“We grew up in a quiet house,” he says. “Everyone read a whole lot except for me. The emphasis was on arts and books. I was really into sports.”
Though not innately artistic, McGuire took up cooking while his mother was in school. (Or he cooked because she had adopted a macrobiotic diet, he told the American-Stateman, perhaps jokingly, in 2009.)
“I always wanted my meals to look like those in magazines,” he says. “Mom would bring home cookbooks, Bon Appetit, The New York Times.”
Opening eatery after eatery, he’s now as much a designer as a chef, paying meticulous attention to uniforms, decor and seating arrangements.
“The bigger the challenge, the more it interested him,” his mother Joan McGuire says. “From baking, he expanded into cooking elaborate meals and would cook for himself and his brothers and the entire family on holidays.”
Loyal to a core group of old friends, he was — and is — an anxious host.
“I always had more fun throwing a party than going to a party,” he says. “I like the creative part of it. I like people to really enjoy themselves. But I still get butterflies before a party. I always wanted it to be almost designed and curated. I wish I could relax and just enjoy a party.”
McGuire picked up a European relish for pleasure alongside work while studying abroad in Spain. At the University of Texas, he majored in economics and signed up with a serious fraternity.
“I thought I’d move to New York and become a jerk stockbroker,” he says.
Instead, he worked for a series of culinary endeavors cooked up by siblings Lou and Liz Lambert, who helped transform South Congress Avenue into SoCo, and their biz partner James Smith.
Helping former rancher Lou Lambert open a corporate hotel in Sugar Land turned into intense culture shock.
“All my friends were seniors at UT,” he says. “Lou and I were hired for our creativity, but after a while, we asked: ‘Why are we even here?”
So McGuire opted out of another Lambert hotel project in San Antonio. Instead, he pitched the idea of a new eatery in downtown Austin.
“Lou said: ‘Write a business plan,” McGuire recalls. “’Name it Lamberts, raise the money, and if it looks like it is happening, I’ll come back.’”
An empire is born
Onlookers swear McGuire willed Lamberts into being.
As he scraped together the money for what would become Lamberts, McGuire found a new mentor in Michael Terrazas of the white-hot Starlite, which he helped move from 34th Street to downtown. They became good friends.
McGuire needed all the friends he could muster when he opened Lamberts, located in the spared brick structure, redesigned by Emily Little, who also contributed designs to the Jeffrey’s and Josephine House projects.
“The opening of that restaurant was super rough,” McGuire says. “We had no idea what we were doing. We knew how to cook. I can’t believe people gave us any money.”
Yet the menu and concept landed in the right place at the right time.
“Just catching the charcuterie and naturally smoked meats (trend)” McGuire says. “Also the interior decor was just right. My biggest strength now is interpreting trends in Austin in advance. The art of making money is a separate thing.”
That’s what McGuire learned the hard way as the restaurant’s namesake left town for a project in Fort Worth.
“I some ways, making money contradicts the idea of hospitality,” McGuire says. “As a host, you want to go over the top for your guests. As a restaurant owner, you are trying to find ways to make a nickel or dime.”
With then-sous chef Tom Moorman, Jr., he created a management company that would include Wertheimer and Carla Work, the group’s accountant turned its chief financial officer.
Together, the agreed that the former Mars on South Congress would make an ideal location for the next concept.
“We kicked around ideas about something light — maybe healthier seafood,” he says. “We are the ideal customer. We eat out all the time. Where do we want to be on a Friday? And South Congress has blown up so much.”
Their timing was perfect. They took the dark, uninviting Mars into a bright, colorful waterside cafe — without the water — that lures customers onto the deck and inside the lively interiors. The vibe for the array of oysters and other ultra-fresh seafood was casual and fresh. The price point was not cheap by any means, but not crippling.
At age 26, McGuire had learned how to make his ever-growing legion of investors, often drawn from the neighborhoods where the eateries sprouted, safe money.
Two years later came Elizabeth Street Cafe, Moorman’s baby. They took the funky former Bouldin Creek Coffehouse space, kept the casual feel and outdoor seating, but borrowed a bit of French style. They carefully constructed a bakery and cafe open for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
“We wanted to reflect the neighborhood and how it has changed,” McGuire says. “When you walk in, you know it’s one of our places — calm, friendly, with attention to line cooking and timing.”
From Day 1, the Elizabeth Street staff guided guests expertly through a rather eccentric menu. How does his team ensure that kind of service?
“Hiring people who care,” McGuire says. “You can train anyone, but you want to hire people who enjoy it and get hospitality.”
Margaret Vera, associated with Stubb’s BBQ and Azul, came up with Fresa’s, the chicken place on North Lamar Boulevard.
“It’s an obvious take-off on El Pollo Rico,” McGuire says. “But with all natural, handmade food.”
“I just never get that feeling that we are in the honeymoon phase of these places after they open,” Wertheimer says. “I feel like I have walked into some newly discovered place that has been here forever.”
Among the McGuire Moorman spots, smart phones and close proximity mean that menu and staff changes can be monitored with ease.
“The company has gotten big enough that it’s not hard to open a new restaurant,” McGuire says. “Clark’s went very smoothly. We are still loosely organized. The restaurants operate pretty much on their own.”
The holy of holies
“Jeffrey’s was the place where my grandma would take my mother for a really special occasion,” McGuire says. “Just hearing ‘Jeffrey’s’ — you imagined what it was in your head. I want to bring back that allure.”
Starting with the traditional appetizer-entree-side-dessert program, Jeffrey’s will not employ trendy techniques or small plates. And McGuire insists they will not compromise on ingredients for California French cuisine.
“Zero cutting corners,” he states. “And having the right service that allows us to charge enough to pay for it. You should assume you are only going to be paying for the best.”
Already open next door is rustic Josephine House, which serves as a special-event room but also a lunch and happy- hour gathering place. McGuire calls it “hippie Martha Stewart.”
McGuire is already cooking up new ideas based on travels especially to favored cities such as San Francisco. No matter the next concept, it will likely fit into what chef Joshua Hines calls McGuire’s “seamless blend of style, taste and substance.”
The single McGuire, whose favorite drop-in spot is the bar at Vespaio on South Congress, is dating one woman now. He temporarily lives next door to his two new eateries in Clarskville and has carved out his first real office above Jeffrey’s.
“I’ve made more time for myself lately,” he says. “And I have the ability to build my own team. It’s like my friends are coming over in the morning to open a restaurant. This small town is getting smaller for me.”