R.I.P. Italian Kitchen
Growing up in the provincial west end of Richmond Virginia, there were many events to jar a young girl’s foothold. New schools popping up yearly, good friends moving away, and always the overshadowing “family problems.”
So when I tell you there was one constant that brought us all together—family, friends, teams—you might remember such a constant in your own youth. For me this constant was Italian Kitchen.
And I was not alone. Everyone, it seems, from my neck of the woods, has his or her own Italian Kitchen story. It was the place to celebrate sports wins or loses, the place for first dates, and always the place for pizza before or after a movie. How many movie plots did we hash out over those red-and-white checkered table cloths?
Two years ago, my father was hospitalized so I flew back to Richmond to help take care of my mother who, sadly, was starting to show signs of dementia.
Imagine my surprise when I called the phone number I knew by heart to order a pizza—an Italian Kitchen pizza was our Saturday night ritual—and was told by an electronic voice that the number was disconnected.
Of course, I’d made an error. I quickly redialed and when I got the same message I assumed my memory was going. I got out my father’s phone book and turned to the first page—that was where the number was listed, right beneath emergency numbers, not under “I”—and redialed the number. Panic set in when the same recording kicked on. This couldn’t be right. I was sure.
Next, I grabbed the computer and went to the library because my parents didn’t have internet. I quickly verified that the number was correct. Now, my heart was pounding. My mouth had gone dry. What was I going to do? How could they close before I’d blackmailed someone for that cheese recipe?
Oh yes, every time I picked up a pizza, I’d tried to get a little bit more information on what made their pizza so special. I fantasied elaborate plans where I’d go work for them for a week for free to learn the secret.
Still hoping against hope, I called some friends expecting them to say “oh yeah, they moved to a new location on Southside.” Alas, no. One friend told me she’d seen a sign on their door that they were closed. Another friend speculated as to why they closed. Once I told my family, there was more speculation. Had Vince Montecalvo, the owner, died? Did he and his wife, Judy, lose the lease?
And this went on for two years. No one had any concrete answers and I was still asking because I wanted that pizza recipe!
The Gods work in mysterious ways.
Meet Mark Montecalvo.
Grandson to Vince Montecalvo. He was raised with the same constant. Italian Kitchen. Mark currently works in landscaping, but has in the past worked as a chef. He loving talks about his grandparents’ recipes and has no problem sharing them. I swear, I didn’t blackmail him or threaten him in any way.
The secret, he claims, was the seven-foot tall, ten-foot wide, and six-foot deep pizza oven. It was 110 years old when Italian Kitchen closed. The cheese grinder was 100 years old. He said he’d made his grandfather’s pizza for friends using the exact ingredients and the pizza wasn’t the same. After years and years of use, both the stove and grinder retained enzymes, oils, and flavors that can’t be reproduced.
I did shed a tear because that oven and grinder have since been sold. Italian Kitchen won’t rise from the ashes no matter how much I wish it so. But I am happy to report that Vince and his wife, Judy, are still alive and healthy…so who knows…maybe a mini pizzeria in their retirement future.
I want that recipe. I’ll never make it because it’s too fattening—but I want it.
Nice blog, Nicola. Made me think of the Italian neighborhoods in the Bronx where ai grew up. They knew how to make the BEST pizza.
xxs
Just hand drying the basil and thyme would be too much work for me. But one interesting thing of the recipe, they crushed the tomatoes by hand but never cooked them before putting on the dough.
Did you ever post the recipe?
Not for the pizza. Mark said it was all about the oven not the recipe. I am trying to find the spaghetti recipe for Crystal below. Now that I have a bunch of time maybe I can track Mark down.
Used to work there over 20 years ago. It was easy drying stuff as the kitchen was easily 120 degrees in the summer (no AC back there). As far as the tomatoes, sometimes they were fresh, sometimes out of a can, always tomato paste. Fresh baked bread every day, awesome pizzas coming out of that monster oven slapped out on a pan similar to Bottoms Up. It was a good time.
You could eat all the pizzas you wanted! Lucky you.
With all the family members in richmond and surrounding areas, isn’t there any place still serving those wonderful pizzas?
There is, but they sold the original oven which is what Mark says gave those pizzas their famous taste/texture. I don’t remember the name of the other restaurants. Sorry.
I want the Spaghetti and meat sauce recipe. My mom grew up going there for over 50 yrs. She had her first legal glass of wine there. I have yet to have spaghetti like this.
Hey Crystal, I’ve tried to track Mark down with no luck but I just found a FB possiblity. I’ll let you know if I get that spaghetti recipe.
I was born in Richmond and moved away when I was young. Like Crystal, I grew up hearing mom’s stories about her spaghetti and Chianti. We would go there on occasion and when we returned to Richmond to visit, Italian Kitchen was always one place we would go. I even got a to go order before heading back home to bring to my mom. The Italian Kitchen will be missed, but I am so glad it was part at least four generations in my family.
What a lovely story. Glad you got to give it a try.
I felt the same way about La Ginestra’s in Mill Valley. Not because it was a family gathering place, but because I loved their ravioli. It is the best there is. But the owner won’t give out the recipe and now I live 400 miles away. No more ravioli for me. I can’t stand any other ravioli after falling in love with La Genistra’s. I am in ravioli limbo until I find another in LA. Help me, ravioli Gods.
Nicola, I love the post, but the editor in me says, change the under “I” to under “P” for pizza. I stopped me. I couldn’t imagine why you would look under “I” as if you were talking about yourself. I list myself as Me in my telephone book.
Miss you, Marie
Not sure what you mean by change the I to P. Need to give you a call. Soon! Stay safe.
I still make all of the menu items at home when I’m hungry for them. Dad passed November 15th 2018. Gone but never to be forgotten, all his recipes to remain family only recipes forever. On the other hand, I personally am for hire to cook by reservation only. You can find me on Facebook.
Gina Montecalvo is on Facebook however my real name is Vinnie Regina Montecalvo
My Italian Kitchen memory is of skating with Gina and the gang at Skate World then heading to the restaurant with Gina and ducking into the kitchen to make our own pizza versions when we were starving and trying to not get caught! Miss those days…….hope all is well with the rest of the family Gina. Best Italian food ever and what an amazing family to be able to hang with during my teen years.
Sorry to hear about Vince. Have you ever thought of writing a cookbook? You know it will sell out locally. Crystal above would buy it just for the spaghetti recipe. I’m no longer in the area but will check out your FB page and give it to Crystal and my Richmond friends.