The woman pictured above putting the serious chop on some vegetables is the eminent personification of abbondanza herself- Mamma Leone.
Founder and culinary genius of the eponymous- but now shuttered- restaurant in New York.
Her first customer was Enrico Caruso. He brought along his pals from the Met and a cooking legend was born. At the restaurant’s height, they were serving six thousand meals on a Sunday.
That’s a lot of pasta.
I was one of those lucky kids whose first visit to New York City included a compulsory stop at Mamma’s.
Mamma and her wonderful ristorante came to mind because I recently stumbled upon this on a bargain table of a book shop.
It was written in 1967 by her son and chef/heir of the restaurant, Gene, and as I turned the pages and savored many of the classic recipes, I started dreaming of by-gone “red sauce” restaurants that are now addio.
Chicago, too, had its share of those wonderful places that live on only in memory.
Andiamo!
Here’s another Italian mama who had a popular restaurant.
Her name was Fanny Bianucci Lazar and her landmark restaurant was on Simpson in Evanston.
Fanny’s was known for her “famous” spaghetti, fried chicken (?) and salad dressing.
And although it closed in 1987, I have a bottle of that dressing in my fridge right now,
(No cracks about the “sell by” date. I just bought it.)
Now let’s head downtown down memory lane.
Shall we start with Armando’s?
This was a regular Sunday night dining spot for the Roffe clan. I loved their Shrimp Armando, chicken Tetrazzini and the lasagna.
The waiters wore dinner jackets, I think, and when I was a kid I believed this was the height of fifties posh.
(All for $8.95 max, probably.)
When I grew up and got married, my then hubby was responsible for a memorable Italian restaurant introduction of his own.
The Como Inn.
Joe Marchetti’s baby. My ex adored this place and went often on business lunches. They had a brown bolognese sauce that was delectable, the kids loved it, and soon it became the Ross Family’s beta version of Sunday Night at Armando’s.
Here’s a menu for old time’s sake.
If Como Inn was all about the rigatoni bolognese for me, another Chicago neighborhood, Bridgeport, once held the breaded steak sandwich of my dreams. The place to go was what looked like a little old store that had been converted into a family-run eating house.
La Milanese on May Street.
I went for the arancine, but stayed for everything else. The steak parm was deelish, the radio was always broadcasting something in Italian and the prices were low as Dante’s Inverno.
I saw lots of cops eating there.
I also saw lots of carryout destined for Eddie Einhorn and Jerry Reinsdorf, too. This place was handy for Comiskey Park and the bosses knew a good thing when they found it.
But no trip down pasta e fagioli lane would be complete without a tribute to my favorite old-school Italian restaurant of all-time…
Febo’s.
Located at 2501 South Western Avenue, it began life as a boarding house for Italian immigrants. Presto it became a restaurant that was “famous for nothing.”
This was their motto proudly emblazoned on menus and matchbooks.
Their menu also bore the credo “Una cosa che piacie non fa danno.”
(Very) loosely translated this means “A thing that tastes good can’t hurt you.”
Nothing hurt less at Febo’s than their minestrone soup, a great little house salad, crunchy sort-of deep-fried parmesan-crusted veal parmigiana with crispy slivers of mushroom atop it, and to start it off ambrosial pizza bread.
THE BEST EVER.
What I wouldn’t give for just one more piece.
Che Peccato.
Oh well. When I get really nostalgic, I can always rely on my new/old cookbook. And this looks like the perfect place to start:
And next time I whip up a big batch, you’re all invited for a bowl of pasta fatta in casa.
Now how about some music with your dinner? This lounge singer is not Italian but I hear he’s pretty good.
(And don’t forget to leave him a little something in the tip jar.)
Ciao tutti!
Ellen, I’ve eaten in some fine Italian restaurants when I lived in (or when I have visited) New York City, and when I visited my parents in Chicago (although nothing compared to Mom’s cooking). However, the Twin Cities have a distinct shortage of the same, for reasons that are best not discussed in a public forum such as this.
Seguing from your expertise to mine, I could not help noticing the paragraph in which you dropped the name of the great Italian tenor Enrico Caruso. Are you familiar with his legendary recording of Puccini’s “Nessun dorma”? And on that note (for those keeping score at home, a sustained A4) , I cannot sleep and must get back to my chemistry papers. Ciao!
Nice try on that trick “Nessun dorma” question. He never recorded it as he died three years before it was written. But thanks for the comment and “Chow” to you, too.
Non piangere, Liù-Ellen, I have to get up pretty early to pull a fast one on you.
Grazie for the due clips, amico mio. And tu ha ragione. Around your casa and mine, nessun dorma.
It’s all coming back … “We was with you, at Rigoletto’s …”
That’s correct. Friends of Italian Opera. Spats Columbo, President, North Side Chapter.
Best “Nessun Dorma” now sung by a 11 year old girl
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G5F9VHJQ1AY
My Mom made the best spaghetti ever. NOT (a bottle of ketchup and a package of Foulds)
Grazie, Jeff. This makes a hat trick of opera clips on this post. I love this aria. And thanks for the recipe. I’ll put in in my file.
Right in the heart of the Loop for 88 years you have The Italian Village Restaraunts. Made to feel like family.
True, Mitch. But it’s still there. I had their cannelloni not too long ago. This post only dealt with the places that don’t exist any more. Thanks for the reminder, though. Very old school.
Seriously Ellen? This nostalgia thing has got to stop. You expect me to believe that any of those restaurants are better than The Olive Garden with its all-you-can-eat salad?
Sorry, Steve. Persuasive ad you may be, my money is on my memories. (Good thing that memories don’t have calories. I’d weigh 500 pounds.) Thanks and ciao, buddy.
I too was one of those lucky kids whose first visit to New York City included a stop at Mamma’s. My dad loved that joint and also 21. I went nuts for Serendipity III though. In those days I always had lasagna at any Italian place (still probably my first choice for cuisine). Now it is usually Carmine’s, especially when dining al fresco and proximity. BTW, there is a frozen Fanny’s spagatti sauce in our freezer at this moment. Tasty blog today kiddo.
I buy that spaghetti sometimes, Gar. Sad but true. Glad you liked this one. Ciao et grazie!
Mama Mia amore mio! You obviously don’t realize that your memories are seriously enhanced and romanticized. What could be more romantic and tasty than devouring cardboard pasta in a bland tomato sauce on a table with a small light bulb, pretending to be a candle, on your table. As for me, those old family run Italian eateries, with their rich flavorful sauces, smothered on some homemade pasta, don’t hold a candle to today’s great Italian restaurants like Olive Garden or Carrabba’s. Long live the franchise restaurants. (Tongue firmly in pasta filled cheek)!
Our favorite long-departed spot was Mike Fish’s on Ontario Street, east of Michigan Avenue. Fish was a former Daily News photographer and ran the restaurant with his brother Pete. Paul “The Waiter” Ricca got his nickname from working there. And the fried chicken at Fanny’s was superlative, second only to that made by Hazel Dilworth, our cleaning woman. I’ve never had anything close during the last 50 years.
I loved Mike Fish’s! Never knew that about Paul “The Waiter.” Very nice, Fred. Grazie.
Yes, Fanny’s in Evanston did have fried chicken.
Herbie
And people loved it! I just think it’s kind of funny that an Italian restaurant would be known for having fried chicken. Grazie, amico mio.
Ellen — This place may not qualify, since I believe the original still survives on Taylor St., but I’ve always been partial to the hot pasta at Rosebud. The one in Highland Park was a favorite dinner location for me.
Rosebud — it might have made a good movie title, too.
I love fettuccine Alfredo and my pharmacist who prescribes Lipitor for me is grateful for the business.
I have great memories of meals with my brother’s in-laws (from Evanston) at Fanny’s but Rosebud is the best. Pass the cannoli please.
I’ll let it squeak by on a technicality. Rosebud in Highland Park is officially closed. So even though the other branches are alive and well, feel free to reminisce about this spot. I liked it too, Jack. Good one about the fettuccine Alfredo. Leave the gun. Take the cannoli. Grazie.
Growing up in New York, I never went to Mamma Leone’s as my family said it was for tourists. Sounds like I missed out on a good place. But I do have fond memories of Fanny’s and Armando’s when I got to Chicago.
That figures, David. It was a landmark- like the Statue of Liberty. Maybe native New Yorkers avoided it with pride because it was always swarming with tourists. Glad you made your way to our fair city. Grazie.