The Old Burg in 1999 Featuring Bobby V

The Old Burg in 1999 Featuring Bobby V
The Hearty of CHAMBERSBURG - Tradition and pastry outlive the
test of time for Trenton 's Italian neighborhood
Star-Ledger, The (Newark, NJ) - Wednesday, March 24, 1999
Author: Brooke Tarabour, FOR THE STAR-LEDGER

It's fairly common for young people to go off to college, come
back home, take over the family business and try to change it
in every possible way. Granddad's way was fine way back when,
but it just doesn't cut it in today's sophisticated cyberspace
society, right? Well, maybe. But for some of the "new
generation" business owners in ethnic neighborhoods around
the state, tradition is the key to success. And doing business
just the way Granddad did is a source of pride and privilege.
Maybe nowhere is this powerful sense of family more apparent
than in Chambersburg , the mostly Italian section of Trenton .
Within one square mile, there are 25 restaurants and enough
small specialty markets where you can find everything you need
for a great meal. The only trick is: Can you live here and walk
one block without running into someone you're related to or have
known all your life? Fawgeddaboudit!
Robert Vitella is a Chambersburg original. Born and raised in
the Burg, he knows absolutely everyone in the neighborhood, and
if he isn't related (to them), they are dear friends. Called
"Bobby V" by all, he is part owner and maitre d' at Marsilio's
Restaurant on Roebling Avenue, right in the heart of Chambersburg .
Before joining Marsilio's three years ago, Vitella, 65, owned a
few neighborhood places himself. He is a born restaurateur, and
you're more likely to see him joining customers at tables than
standing at the door. No one at Marsilio's goes home without a
drink on the house, and no one knows how to work a room like
Bobby V. Vitella was born and raised in Chambersburg ; his
grandparents lived close by and were a big influence in his
life. "Their names were Dominic and Josephine Vitella," he says.
"They came from Italy around the turn of the century so my
grandfather could work in the Roebling steel works, which
surrounded the neighborhood. My father eventually worked there,
too." Like the Vitellas, most of the neighborhood families
grew their own vegetables in backyard gardens behind tidy row
houses. What they didn't use, they put up for the winter. Many
people had chicken coops, and "at Easter, we had a little lamb
in the backyard, too. My grandfather slaughtered (it) after we
fell in love with it," he says. Long before supermarkets,
Vitella and his grandmother shopped in the neighborhood.
"We'd buy fresh crabs and eels and baccala at one of several
fish markets," he remembers. "In those days, pasta came in long
boxes. You'd break off what you wanted and weigh it - the pieces
were about six feet long. You also bought a piece of aged cheese
and the store owner would grind it, but most people had their
own grinders at home." Recently, Vitella sharpened his shopping
skills, acting as tour guide of Chambersburg 's specialty markets.
At each stop, he needed time to greet shop owners and staff, catch
up on news and swap tales of the old days. At each stop, he was
greeted with the specialty of the house: espresso, cannoli, warm
bread, fresh fruit. It was like visiting friends at home.
At Licciardello Bros. Inc., on Butler Street, out came plump,
red strawberries and perfect tangelos. "Our grandfather, Joseph,
started this business in the 1920s," says Alex Licciardello, who
now owns this 4,000-square-foot produce warehouse with his brother,
Joseph. The market sells mostly wholesale, but everyone is welcome
to come in and shop. The brothers go to the Philadelphia produce
market at 4:30 a.m. every day, so they can bring back the day's
products fresh; they have 10 trucks delivering produce throughout
the area. "My grandfather started selling fish and produce from
a wagon at this site," says Alex Licciardello. "He traveled the
neighborhood and managed to make a living, even during the
Depression." The Licciardellos may have computers now, but
little else has changed through the years, except that bananas
don't come on the vine anymore and customers now ask for things
like fingerling potatoes, passion fruit and baby vegetables.
There are some good buys at Licciardello's, like lemons at 25
cents per pound, bananas at 35 cents per pound, cucumbers for
25 cents each and iceberg lettuce at 60 cents a head (price
varies). Across the street is Italian Peoples Bakery, a
neighborhood vestige since 1936. Next door is Panorama
Musicale, a small shop where older men buy their Italian
newspapers every morning; they visit for a while, reading and
enjoying espresso with friends. In the summer, owner Concetta
Masollo makes her own fruit ices. She does not speak much
English, but she can recite all the flavors and tell you about
the Italian music tapes and videos for rent. Further up Butler
Street, Vitella stops at Landolfi's Pastry Shop, a tiny place
established in 1891 by Pasquale Landolfi. His grand-nephew,
Gary Bencivengo, and his wife, Suzanne, are the present owners,
and things haven't changed much here either in more than 100
years. There are only a dozen products in the original display
cases, and all are baked according to original recipes that were
scribbled down just before Landolfi's death. Perfect cannoli are
filled only when ordered, a pignoli almond torte with a hint of
raspberry doesn't last long enough in your mouth. There are
biscotti, almond pastaciotti, cream-filled sfogliatelli and
other classics. The Bencivengos live in the rear of the store,
just as generations before them. They have three children, who
don't understand that not everyone lives in a bakery. The shop
is renowned for its products, but for the first time, the future
is unclear, as they make plans to move to South Carolina soon to
be closer to his family. The shop and the recipes presently are
for sale although there are no takers yet. Bobby V. and Bobby
Calabro shake hands warmly as if they hadn't seen each other in
ages. Calabro is the third-generation owner of Porfirio's Italian
Food on Anderson Street. He took over the business from his father,
Anthony, who had taken over from his father-in-law, John Porfirio,
the original owner who, thankfully, left all his recipes.
"We were one of the first guys to make fresh pasta," says Bobby
Calabro. "We also sell our own ravioli, stuffed shells, lasagna,
gnocchi and manicotti to small markets. Our concept is all Italian.
At Porfirio's, production is done in a kitchen you can see from
the store. It's like peering into someone's kitchen, and it
smells wonderful. Homemade sausage, fresh mozzarella, grated
locatelli and Parmesan, Italian prosciutto, imported octopus,
polenta and other delicacies fill the cases. Fresh bread from
Calandra's Bakery in Newark is a must-have. Good store-made
sauces, meatballs and a fresh pasta dish daily fill all the
major requirements. Back in the car, Vitella points out the
two churches and two funeral parlors where the major events
in neighborhood life take place. The Burg is a quiet place
with sporadic traffic except on weekend nights, when there
is lots of restaurant influx and few parking spaces. People
here seem to think double parking is the rule and "stop signs
are optional," according to one local. Row houses are
prevalent, faced in brick, stucco or aluminum siding; many
have porches and all are well-maintained; crime is low.
Still, the neighborhood has seen its share of hard times.
John Roebling, designer of the Brooklyn Bridge, built his
first steel mill in Chambersburg in 1848; more would follow,
and giant brick factories soon lined several blocks. With
7,000 jobs, Roebling's businesses attracted immigrants from
all over the world around the turn of the century. Many came
from Italy and created their own little world to mirror their
way of life in the old country. Workers took their half-hour
lunch breaks near the factories at one of several saloons.
"There they stood to drink down their pint of ale or shot
of whiskey, while consuming the free food put out on the bar
for patrons." says Sally Lane, director of the Trenton
Convention & Visitors Bureau and unofficial city historian.
"Eventually, a back room had a few tables and chairs where
favored customers might sit to eat. In time, these back rooms
became restaurants." As the factories gradually closed from
the 1940s to the "70s, older people stayed and retired; many
of their children moved to the suburbs to pursue job
opportunities and a better quality of life. Ironically, they
come back regularly to eat at restaurants they grew up in as
children; so many people visit at tables that one restaurateur
says his dining room is more like "a block party."
Chambersburg has always been known for its restaurants. A
mini-version of New York's Little Italy and Philadelphia's
South Philly neighborhoods, you can actually smell simmering
red sauce on the streets. Politicians typically call certain
restaurants their own, and on most weekdays, there is a serious
shift of the state's power base from the State House to the
dining rooms of the Burg. "The whole state revolves around
Trenton ," says Alan Meinster, chef/owner of Marsilio's, where
Bobby V holds court nightly. "And it's important to understand
the politics. People conduct business in the restaurant, so
it's important to respect each situation. That's one reason
why we have two separate dining rooms." Governor Whitman is
a Marsilio's regular, and she, like many other recurrent
guests, is served wine from a pitcher emblazoned with her
name. Meinster, 34, says that while people want to see the
Governor, they're just as excited to see old friends and
family. "All politics are local," reminds Meinster.
"A high-ranking politician will come in and still walk across
the room to say hello to his uncle or his uncle's friend."
Meinster, too, knows everyone in the neighborhood. On a
Saturday evening, Rossi's Tavern on Morris and Franklin
streets is packed; Al Rossi, 75, is still flipping gigantic
burgers for his hungry guests. After a chat, it's on to
DeLorenzo 's Tomato Pies on Hudson Street - not to be confused
with DeLorenzo 's on Conrad Street, both owned by brothers.
There is fierce debate as to which pie is better, and each
brother has his own following, with people lining up for
hours to get into tiny restaurants that serve only pizza
and soda, period. While most things stay the same in
Chambersburg , some do change. The factory buildings are
being renovated - for senior residences, theater companies,
homes and shops. The 4-year-old Roebling Market, a strip
shopping center housed in renovated factory buildings has
brought a supermarket and several stores into the neighborhood.
A new minor league basketball, hockey and soccer stadium is
under construction. With a population migration come new
residents. Hispanics have been moving into the Burg, and a
few bodegas have popped up where Italian markets once stood.
But for the most part, Chambersburg is a throwback to a life
blissfully out of touch with today's pace. And while it's true
that much of a generation of people born and raised in a very
special place may have found a better way somewhere else, it's
heartening that they regularly return to their roots. As Bobby
V says, "This is a nice little place we have here."