Taste the love

Filed under: by: Chris

There are very few places in my real hometown that I would consider myself a regular at. Maybe only one that would consider me a regular, and that’s my local Mama Mia’s. From the sound of it, you would expect it to be just Italian… and I suppose some of the food is, but it’s run by an eastern European man I’ve known almost all of my life who has managed to put together a menu that has the usual pizza/subs/sandwiches, but with a few surprises thrown in.

I’ve definitely grown up there. I started off as a tiny child of five or six getting their kids menu things, slowly but surely going more often, usually around once every two or so weeks. By the time I started my tae kwon do lessons in the middle of elementary school in the same shopping center, it became a weekly thing. I would go in uniform with my mom, get food, and bring it home to eat. Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever eaten at the restaurant, just brought food home from it.

Throughout the years, my regular on the menu has changed, I used to stick with the kids menu spaghetti, shrimp/fries, or burger/fries meal, but as I got older and hungrier I branched out, though I was notoriously picky for the years when I was deviating from the kids menu. I went from a regular burger and fries to a meatball sub and fries to a cheeseburger sub and fries. Shocking change, I know. Now, however, I usually either get the steak and cheese or the white pizza. Every now and then I mix it up with the Tom Dooley, Mama Mia’s equivalent of Parthenon’s uncanny “Steak and Cheese, Egg” in Fredericksburg.

The food isn’t mindblowingly good or anything, though I will say that Mama Mia’s steak and cheese is the bar I set for all other greasy sandwiches. But you can tell that everything is made with care and, dare I say it, love. You can actually see everything being made from any given point in the restaurant, and you can tell they’ve been at it for years. Yet, even as I am addicted to their steak and cheese, I enjoy the ten to fifteen minutes I spend almost every week waiting for my food, because I get to witness small moments that endear me to the place.

- The main guy (I learned his name at one point, but have completely forgotten it) has a tendency to dance when making steak and cheeses. He’ll portion out the meat, and then rhythmically cut it up with the grill spatula while humming a few bars of something and improvise a little dance. See? Love in the food.

- I love sitting at the bar and watching the unique mix of regulars drinking beer steadily and the random community members who carry out food. I’ve run into so many people I know while just waiting for food there, and they’ve usually been mini reunions with people I hadn’t seen in years.

- The efficiency of work is surprising. I love to watch the kitchens of one of the only other places in my hometown that I dare call myself a regular in, the House of Dynasty, and they verge on precognition with the efficiency at which they work. But here is different. The only times I’m there I’ve only seen two people working, only one usually doing all the cooking. But the management of tasks, grill space, and timing is really interesting. It looks very haphazard, but after what’s probably two decades of practice, everything meshes almost flawlessly. It’s a sort of chaotic order that appeals to me in a different way than the almost mechanical efficiency of the Chinese restaurant kitchen.

- I learn such interesting things while I wait. Just last night I learned that The Guy’s drink of choice was a mix of gin, vodka, soda water, and lime juice. I’ve learned the difference between a Tom Dooley and a Billy Dooley (ham instead of beef). I learned how long to cook the strips of steak for steak and cheese, and how to properly pile it on to make it fit onto a roll. I’ve learned that every item on the menu is on there for a reason, because I’ve seen everything ordered at least once.

This is actually one of the places I miss the most when I'm down in Fredericksburg during the year. Parthenon usually covers my pizza/sub place needs when I actually want the cozy, neighborhood kind of place, but it isn't my place. I've worked most of my life to establish a place I can truly be a real regular in, and I'm not sure I have it in me to try and make that happen again until I know where I'm to end up in the next few years.

1 comments:

On July 2, 2009 at 11:54 AM , Megan said...

Aw, this place and it's memories sound to idyllic!