Three years ago, celebrity chef John DeLucie was riding high, musing to Paper magazine about who would play him in the TV adaptation of his memoir, “The Hunger.” (Lorenzo Lamas, in case you were wondering).

Today, the chef, made famous by introducing a $55 truffle mac-and-cheese to Graydon Carter and his posh pals at the Waverly Inn in 2006, is just trying to stay afloat — working to rebuild a once-flourishing hospitality empire that is rapidly sinking.

DeLucie was a partner in five restaurants that raked in more than $40 million in revenue in 2014, but this past year has been a rough one.

In early 2015, the chef’s Crown Group Hospitality had to cough up $575,000 to waiters who won a class-action suit after being stiffed on tips at the Lion.

In March, DeLucie and Co. closed their West Village sports bar, the Windsor. The next month, the group accepted an early buyout from their landlord, who was looking to sell, and shuttered uptown spot Crown.

Then, in May, DeLucie was ousted from the St. Regis, where, in 2013, he was hired to revamp the storied King Cole Bar.

According to one industry insider, the luxe hotel brand didn’t want to be associated with the trouble surrounding Crown Group. And three weeks ago, Noel Tynan, the landlord for DeLucie’s Midtown eatery, Bill’s Food & Drink, told The Post’s Richard Johnson that the chef and his partners owe $107,000 and he plans to start eviction proceedings.

“I was probably a bit naïve,” DeLucie concedes to The Post when asked about all the recent troubles. “Behind every great chef is a great business person. It’s super important.”

DeLucie didn’t have a great business person behind him -— he had Sean Largotta, a former Lehman Brothers trader who founded Crown Group Hospitality with DeLucie and Mark Amadei in 2009.

According to multiple sources, the demise of the chef’s once-glittering collection of restaurants is largely due to Largotta’s shady dealings.

He’s “essentially the Bernie Madoff of the restaurant industry,” says a source close to Crown Group.

An investigation ordered by restaurant investors earlier this year revealed that Largotta had been stealing from the coffers for years. According to the investigation, he used company funds for a number of inappropriate expenditures -— including a lease on a Land Rover and $55,000 in divorce legal fees -— and received more than $20,000 in kickbacks for carrying certain Italian wines in his restaurants.

Largotta, who is currently in litigation with his former business partners, vehemently denies the investigation’s findings.

“I don’t handle the finances,” he says, claiming that his main duties are “managing day-to-day and designing the spaces.”

“That’s just an outright lie,” says one investor. “He was the only one on the bank accounts at the Windsor . . . I feel terribly for John.”

Not only was Largotta skimming off the top, according to the investor, he was stealing directly from DeLucie.

“I was like, ‘John, do you realize that you used to get over 40 percent of the GP [general partnership] at the Windsor, and now you’re only getting 10?’ ” he says. “DeLucie is clearly not a good business person.”

Indeed. Some insiders claim that the Crown Group guys were more concerned with celebrity and fast cash than building healthy businesses.

“They took over The Lion and alienated all the neighbors,” says Kenyon Oster, a former waiter at the Waverly Inn and at the Lion.

“You’re giving reservations to musicians and designers and movie stars and I live next door and I’ve been eating here for years and you can’t fit me in,” says Oster, who won $5,000 after suing Crown Group for tip money that was withheld illegally.

DeLucie admits that he expanded too quickly. “We were probably lacking a little bit in infrastructure,” he says.

But the chef says the St. Regis split was amicable -— “I was like, I think I’ve done all I can do here,” he says — and he’s intent on getting Bill’s out of the hole.

“We got a little behind,” he admits. “But we’re going to make good on it.”

Now he’s rolling ahead on his own, opening a solo project called Bedford & Co. in December at the Renwick hotel on East 40th Street.

“This is me calling the shots, and it’s very, very sort of liberating,” says DeLucie.

Industry folk are rooting for a comeback.

“People love John for John. It’s almost like he’s his own rock star,” says restaurateur Omar Hernandez, who consulted for the Lion when it first opened. “He has this opportunity to be a lone star again.”

Having learned from recent mistakes, DeLucie seems poised to take advantage of the opportunity.

“I’m putting together a really fantastic team of hospitality professionals . . . people who are really looking out for me,” he says. “This last year has taught me…I trust too much.”