Kitchen Diplomacy

"Bobby lit into him with a level of invective that would bring admiration in the toughest bar in Hoboken," Sauter recalls. "It was invective that would have made the Sopranos blush. Bobby was a foreigner in the most frightening place on Earth, and he was browbeating this government official."

This time, Egan's tirade didn't work: He was not permitted to meet the defector. Still, Egan's traveling companions were impressed by his guts.

"I marveled at his ability to dress down the Korean leadership -- that he could use that language and still be accepted by them," McDaniel says.

"Bobby has world-class street smarts that he has raised to a geopolitical level," says Sauter. "Some people who have these street smarts do well in business, some do well in crime. Bobby has used them to inject himself into the most isolated place in the world."

Don't (Bleep) With Us!

"I said, 'Are you willing to give up your nuclear weapons?' and he said yes," Egan says, "so I said, 'We're going right to the New York Times.' "

Egan is telling this story in order to explain a newspaper clipping mounted on the wall at Cubby's. Unlike most clippings displayed in eateries, it's not a restaurant review. It's a story that appeared on the front page of the New York Times on Nov. 3, 2002.The headline reads: "North Korea Says Nuclear Program Can Be Negotiated."

The article, by Times reporter Philip Shenon, recounted Shenon's exclusive interview with Han Song Ryol, who was then North Korea's ambassador to the United Nations. Han told Shenon that his government had changed its policy and was now willing to negotiate with the United States over its nuclear weapons program. Deep in the story was the revelation that earned the article a place of honor on the wall at Cubby's: "The North Korean Mission contacted The Times through a New Jersey restaurateur, Robert Egan."

It happened like this, Egan says: His friend, Ambassador Han, was worried that President Bush, who had dubbed North Korea a part of the "axis of evil," was planning to invade his country. Egan suggested that Han announce, through the Times, his willingness to negotiate. When Han and his bosses in Pyongyang agreed, Egan recalls, "I called Phil Shenon."

"He said he had a connection to the North Koreans -- and he did," Shenon remembers. "He sort of inserted himself into the situation. He has lines of communication with the North Koreans and he has a line to the State Department and he was keeping them informed on what he was doing. He's smart enough to know that this is a tricky game and he'd better let people know what he's doing."

Egan claims that his diplomacy saved North Korea from an American invasion and maybe saved the world from a nuclear war -- not bad for a guy whose day job involves slathering pork ribs with hot sauce. He knows that North Korea is a brutal dictatorship, but he believes the United States can get along with the regime. Of course, he conveys his plea for peace and friendship in his own inimitable style.

"They are the toughest [bleeping] guys in the world!" he says. "We don't want to [bleep] with them! And they don't want to [bleep] with us! So what the [bleep] is the problem? We got a few political differences, that's all."

The Toothache Crisis

A few years ago, Egan's friend, Ambassador Han, got a toothache -- a toothache so agonizing that even a tough [bleeping] North Korean couldn't ignore it. Naturally, Han asked his favorite American barbecue chef for assistance.