FF2: My Favorite Restaurant & Rant

My favorite restaurant in the world is Pizzeria Mozza on Highland Avenue in Los Angeles, California. That’s a loaded statement and may be subject to change one day, but that day is not today! Food comes first and foremost in regards to Mozza, but there is also of fun, and feminism wrapped up in the story – the trifecta for my first real go at an FF.

My twelve year old, cooking and food obsessed self, was confused by my dad’s idea of taking “a trip to LA for spring break.” As Los Angeles is less than a two-hour drive from where my family lives in Santa Barbara, I was skeptical about its destination as a vacation. But I quickly realized, this trip would include the two best reasons to visit LA: to see a Lakers game and to eat. (As I am in complete denial about the state of affairs of my favorite NBA franchise, we’re only concerned with the latter reason right now).

When I was young, my family frequented Sunday evening Lakers games because they started at 6:00 pm, so it was early enough for an easy drive to and from LA in a day. But for our “LA vacation,” time was so object, so we (my mom, dad, sister, and I) decided to bypass the disappointing food at the Staples Center and head to Pizzeria Mozza for an early dinner instead.

We arrive at 4:30 pm, under the assumption we wouldn’t need a reservation to eat at such an odd mealtime. We were wrong. Mozza was packed. We stand outside the restaurant under the signature orange awning, panicking about the fate out of dinner. Finally, the hostess comes outsides and says we can sit four people at the bar. Of course, we accept, go inside, take our seats, and begin what would be one of the biggest and best meals of our lives.

On this, very first encounter with Mozza, I can only vividly remember a few items we ate. The rest blurs together in a haze of deliciousness and excess. First, the bread arrives at our table. Mozza is best known for their Pizza, but honestly I could go there and just eat the bread. An order of Pane Bianco came first with four shiny pieces. The olive oil soaked bread with chunks of sea salt was not only visible but glistening in the afternoon light. We each took a piece of bread from the plate and sat in silence, quickly devouring our pieces. We immediately placed another order of bread with the next server to pass by us.

A mouthwatering visual of Pane Bianco I found on the internet taken by a profession – scroll to see my shitty one circa 2014.

In between the servings of gluten, the Brussels Sprouts arrive. They are crispy on the outside, but soft and perfectly acidic on the inside. The vinegar is a welcome and necessary balance to the richness of the rest of the meal. We graze on a few more vegetables, including the colorful Insalata Tricolore, and get in some nutrients in between more servings of unapologetically oily Pane Bianco.

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We were only part way through the antipastos and already feeling the weight of Italy on our stomachs. The waiter bustled over with a plate. I spotted garlic cloves, more bread, parsley, and something indiscernible. “Bone marrow,” my dad said to me as the waiter sat it down in front of us. I had never seen or tried bone marrow before that moment — I hadn’t really lived. My dad took a slice of bread and taught me how to make the perfect bite. Spread the roasted garlic cloves across a slice of Pane Bianco, scoop the marrow out of the bone, layer it on top, sprinkle with sea salt, and top with freshly chopped parsley.

Bone marrow is all things good and all things evil. I had never tasted something more decadent. But it was manageably decadent, and so I managed to finish my entire serving.

We’re (somehow) still breathing and eating, so we finally try the renowned and reinvented pizza. The crust is unlike any crust I have ever had before, exuding the doughy yet crispy characteristic of our beloved Pane Bianco. The Pizza Bianca was and is my family’s favorite pizza. It’s topped with layers of delicious, melted cheese and crispy sage. At any meal at Mozza, I can smell the crust and eye the glistening cheese and the sparkling sage from across the restaurant.  

After the pizzas, we slouched on our barstools staring at the dessert. I was so full and felt weak. We were all weak, but weaker in the face of the Butterscotch Buddino. It came in a glass with distinct layers of butterscotch and caramel one on top of the other, a dollop of cream, a few more chunks of sea salt, and two rosemary cookies on the side. Over the years, I’ve perfected the art of getting a bite of each layer in one fell spoon. It is a magical spoonful.

Butterscotch Budino with Maldon sea salt & rosemary pine nut cookies (LA Weekly) – scroll for the Budino I ate in 2012

My love for Mozza is twofold. It embodies my opinion that simple, ingredient focused, casual dining restaurants far exceed Michelin star qualified, pretentious fine dining experiences. It also reminds me that food is fun and loving to eat is fun. I just described the sheer decadence of a Mozza experience, and I am grateful for every bite I’ve eaten and will eat there. But endless amounts of bread, olive oil, sea salt, and cheese are not staples of an everyday healthy diet. I don’t often eat a meal like this, my Instagram feed of colorful salad bowls and roasted vegetables proves that, but I do believe the ability to love food and love to eat a meal like this is healthy.

For me, Mozza was all about food and fun. Now, Mozza’s story displays more than that. So where does the feminism come in? We need a little more context to understand

Pizzeria Mozza opened in Los Angeles, California in 2006. The restaurant concept was the brainchild of the famous California pastry chef, Nancy Silverton, Iron Chef and Italian cuisine icon, Mario Batali, and successful restauranteur Joe Bastianich. The menu was the heavenly synergy of Silverton’s bread and pastry expertise from her founding of La Brea Bakery and Batali’s mastery of Italian cooking.

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The LA food scene buzzed with excitement and Mozza opened to immediate success and recognition. The casual atmosphere and (as if I haven’t mentioned it enough) the fantastic food were a winning combination in the Southern California setting. No wonder it is always packed at every hour of the day, including 4:30 pm!

In December 2017, allegations of sexual harassment and misconduct against Mario Batali surfaced. The first story that was released included testimonies by four women. By the very next day, five more woman had come forward to report Batali. The number and severity of the accounts by Batali’s employees escalated over the coming year.

ABC Network quickly cut Batali out of the cast of The Chew. Immediately after, the Food Network reneged the upcoming release of Batali’s previously recorded TV episodes. Within the year, Bastianich, whom Batali joint owned sixteen restaurants with – including Pizzeria Mozza, negotiated and bought Batali out of his interests in their restaurant empire, Batali & Bastianich Hospitality Group. The group ousted Batali, closed restaurants under his name, and

ensured he will no longer profit from the restaurant business in any shape or form.

Tanya Bastianich Manuali, formally of the Batali & Bastianich Hospitality Group

This included the complete divestment from all products, promotions, and the profitable Italian marketplace, Eataly, in locations across the globe. In 2019, Batali faced both criminal assault and sexual assault charges. The criminal assault charges were brought to court in Boston, Massachusetts and if convicted, Batali faces five years in prison. On the other hand, the sexual assault charges were never brought to court. Three separate investigations into three individual instances of alleged sexual misconduct were all closed by the police. In two of the cases, that statute of limitation had passed, and in the third, police claimed a lack of evidence. Prosecutors could have strung the three cases together to establish a pattern of sexual misconduct, but the police reported that in each of the three cases, the survivors stated they had been drinking on the night in question, and therefore the prosecutors failed to pursue charges of sexual assault against Mario Batali.

The surfacing of this scandal and disgracing of Mario Batali is a product of #MeToo. The development of the scandal exemplifies the solidarity and magnitude of the community experiencing sexual misconduct and spotlights a particularly problematic workplace – the restaurant and food industry.

Batali’s finances and reputation suffered in the aftermath of the publicity of his actions, but according to the law – he’s done nothing wrong. To a jury and the court, men use alcohol as an excuse for their actions, but women are colored as at fault and blamed for the violence and harassment they experience if they, too, were under the influence of alcohol. That reality infuriates me more and more every time I think about it.

It is impossible for me to unpack the patriarchy saturated in various layers of the Batali scandal in this FF alone – my mind just might explode and I’ve already digressed enough for one post. I admire the capacity of movements like #MeToo to right this judiciary wrong and give a sense of agency to the public to advocate for survivors and spread awareness of the prevalence of sexual misconduct through their choices, including where to eat.

As the Batali story unfolded, I questioned my desire to eat at Mozza ever again. I wanted the delicious food, of course, but at what cost? Although his name disappeared from the menu and the website, the awning and orange color scheme still remind me of Batali’s signature orange crocs. The reminder is slowly fading with time as Nancy Silverton’s joy and dedication revives the restaurant. She bustles from table to table, smiling, laughing, and teaching staff and customers alike about her food.

Traditional is not always a good thing. My family’s traditional meal at Mozza before Lakers games is good. Nancy’s traditional bread recipe is freaking good. The traditionally patriarchal and exploitive food and restaurant industry is not good. But of course, my favorite restaurant does not just delight my taste buds and satisfy my stomach, it sparks a feminist fire.

With empowerment, Natasha