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A former frontman and an executive chef walk into a dry cleaner. No, really.
About seven years ago, on any given night at El Gaucho Seattle, you could find both of them in the same room without knowing it. Luca Sacchetti was working the floor, server, manager, whatever they needed, between ventures. Kirin Chun was in the kitchen, climbing. They hadn't really talked yet. But the building was already pulling them together.
Luca grew up in Seattle, but his life started in Abruzzo. Both parents came from Teramo, a small town in the mountains. Every childhood summer was spent in Italy with his grandparents, the food and the family. "It has always been a big, big part of my life." Kirin's education happened in a different kitchen: his grandmother's Korean restaurant in Federal Way. She cooked with her hands, not recipes. That's where he learned that food is right when it feels right, before you even taste it.
From there, their lives went in opposite directions. Luca got loud. In the 90s, he was the vocalist of Ondine, a Seattle band the Seattle Times described as having "deep, powerful vocals, hypnotic guitars and driving rhythms... a spiritual, majestic vibe." Their producer was Don Gilmore, who worked with Pearl Jam. They played at RKCNDY. They recorded, they were on the edge of breaking through, and then all their recordings were stolen. The band never recovered. Kirin got quiet. He started working kitchens at sixteen and never stopped. Just the next plate.
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After music, Luca founded RockStar Motel, a tech startup that raised $750K to build a platform turning the music industry upside down. Then real estate. Then El Gaucho, where he worked as a server and manager for years.
Through all of it, his father kept saying one thing: open a sandwich shop.
Luca and his father were fanatical about sandwiches. They'd argue passionately about whether one was good or not. Their favorite: mortadella, stracciatella, and pistachio on schiacciata. The sandwich that became the Bambino.
After his father passed around 2021, Luca found himself in a transition.
"I started thinking I should open a sandwich shop. My dad would love that, just absolutely love it."
Meanwhile, Kirin joined El Gaucho Seattle in 2014 as a pantry cook, the bottom of the ladder. Within a few years he was Executive Sous Chef, then earned a spot at Miller's Guild, working the celebrated ten-seat chef's counter where every plate was theater and every guest was watching. El Gaucho brought him back as Executive Chef of the flagship in the historic 1910 livery stable near Pike Place, where he ran wine dinners, appeared on KING 5, and led one of Seattle's most acclaimed kitchens.
Kirin used to live in the Phinney Ridge neighborhood and would drive past an old dry cleaner on Greenwood Ave. He told his girlfriend at the time: "If this place ever goes for sale, this would be a cool spot." Then one day, a phone call: "You're not going to believe this, but there's a for lease sign on the building."
From here, the story is theirs. They took a trip to Italy to visit Luca's mother. Ate well, talked a lot, and admitted to each other that they were both ready for something new. They went back to Italy specifically to figure out what that something was. It was sandwiches. And they agreed on one thing before anything else: the bread is everything.
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They brought the concept to William Leaman at Bakery Nouveau. While discussing the bread, Leaman pointed at his industrial mixer. It said "Fortuna" on it.
"That's what you should name the shop." They looked at each other and knew.
The Fortuna logo features the Wheel of Fortune topped by a jester with outstretched arms.
"The Lady of Fortuna is about good fortune, the struggles of life and the turbulence you go through. The jester symbolizes the releasing of that — knowing in life you have to accept things and just let them be."
Kirin walked away from one of Seattle's most prestigious kitchens to make sandwiches in a converted dry cleaner. Luca finally listened to his father.
On September 3rd, 2025, they opened the door. The line was fifteen groups deep.
"I think it is kind of punk rock. It is a punk rock sandwich shop. It's Italian, but it is a little... rogue. It's a little edgy."
