Heyo!
I’m back home in Western Pennsylvania hanging out with my niece and nephew and playing a lot of Mario Party Superstars. Did you know that Mario games have banger musical scores? It’s true. I didn’t expect the mini-game results theme to go so hard, but I’ve been bopping to it all weekend:
We also hit the Mahoningtown Community Day festival, which was essentially an Italian-American festival full of meatball sandwiches, hot peppers, and Italian ice. I also took the kids for their first Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle ice cream treat.
But I was really there to cover something called The Baby Doll Dance. It’s a tradition that happens at Italian festivals across this area, and to my knowledge, no where else. It’s a bit of a cult-y idea—putting a doll suit on top of a man, attaching him with fireworks, and then making him dance to a full band playing Italian polka. But that’s exactly what makes it awesome. Personally, I’d join more cults if they had meatballs and shit like this.
I have yet to be impressed by an Italian-American meal in Detroit.
That is, until I had Sundays at Nonna’s, a dinner held at one of Detroit’s greatest restaurants, Mable Gray. It’s a special, elusive dinner conceived by chefs James Rigato and John Vermiglio. James, in his opening speech to the diners, said that its purpose is to recall the Italian-American dinners of his youth, dinners you’d usually find in grandma’s basement. A passion project, and one I can relate to.
I also had such meals growing up. Though, replace grandma’s basement with grandma’s sun-struck porch, a porch littered with plants and hummingbirds buzzing around feeders. Meatballs, spaghetti, garlic bread, and salad—these are the main tenets to a dinner at grandma’s house. It’s an experience I find myself longing for here in Detroit.
There are a dearth of good Italian and Italian-American restaurants in this city. I don’t really know why that is. There seems to be a wonderful Italian-American community, but nobody is grabbing the concept by the horns and delivering.
That’s why this dinner, which I think only happens a few times a year, is all the more special. If you live in the area, or hell, even if you’re visiting Detroit while it’s happening, I think it’s a special thing you should experience once. For Nonna’s sake.
Sunday at Nonn'a’s Review
The meal was coursed out, but also delivered at such a quick pace that you do get the feeling you’re just kind of passing plates around a big table with your family. The guy next to me kept exclaiming “killer!” which made me want to break a plate over his head, but besides that I was more than happy to eat and share with strangers.
I won’t go over every single dish, but here’s the big review:
Crispy, Cheesy, Oily Garlic Bread
The first plate, the garlic bread, is ultimately what I left thinking about. Though made with ciabatta, this bread reminded me of an amped up Genovese-style focaccia. The bottom of the bread was super crispy, almost like it had been fried in olive oil, and the top was pleasingly soft. Also, the bread felt absolutely soaked in olive oil, with whole cloves of roasted garlic spread throughout. This was a delicious right hook, and I’ll just go ahead and say it, it was among the very best garlic bread I’ve ever had. Damn.
Giant, Tender Meatballs in a Stellar Red Sauce
The meatballs were perfectly soft, and it should be said they weren’t seared. James and co. dunk the raw meatballs directly into a vat of marinara, and let them cook in the sauce that way. This method results in a clean, utterly soft meatball. Also, you see that Pecorino Romano? That’s what hand-grated looks like. Yee-fuckin’-haw.
The red sauce has a wonderful chemistry to it, and among some of the most precise I’ve ever had. The tomatoes feel smooth and fresh, and its acid was tamed wonderfully. Also, of importance, you’ll notice a a thin, orange rim on the outskirts of the plate. That’s olive oil, friends, and it’s important for marinara to have a generous dose of the stuff. It’s what makes it rich and flavorful. If I am to judge Italian-American food on the classics—garlic bread and meatballs—well, this dinner is exemplary.
Fried chicken cutlets with Italian salsa verde and a summer tomato ammoglio
The chicken cutlet felt predictable in its execution, but also light and fresh. Milanese is one of my favorite meals; it’s a dish that leans into simplicity: Breaded, fried cutlets and acid.
Ammoglio amounts to what is essentially an uncooked Italian salsa: Blended tomatoes with olive oil, garlic, and herbs. Acid plays well with fried chicken cutlets, and they really tripled down on that—salsa verde, ammoglio, and a lemon wedge. It was delightful.
After we finished, an employee carrying a large plate of extra cutlets patrolled the bar and offered us another. I obliged happily. More cutlet service at restaurants.
Also, at this point, I really need to shout out the dish-ware. Look at these beautiful plates. Exactly like grandma’s house.
Summery, sweet corn cavatelli
Next came the sweet corn cavatelli, which felt like a big hug from my dead Grandma (not a hug from my grandma while she’s dead, that would be gross, but like a hug while she was still alive, you feel me?)
It was sweet, creamy, and decidedly corn-forward. Just a great way to celebrate August. Now is when sweet corn angolotti begins to appear on menus across the United States, so seeing this was a refreshing deviation.
The corn cavatelli was sneaky luxurious, as it featured a yolk jam and guanciale. It also reminded me of the cream-focused dishes most seen at red sauce joints and not traditional Italian restaurants. There’s nothing wrong with heavy cream, by the way. It gets far too much hate. I’m not actually sure if it’s used in the cavatelli dish, but it felt like it, and the feeling invoked was pure Italian-American comfort.
Spongey tiramisu with an Italian rainbow cookie
The tiramisu was delicate, spongey, soft, and came served with a short Italian rainbow cookie as a sidecar. I’m convinced all tiramisu should be served this way from now on. The rainbow cookie was small, but stout, chocolatey, and savory in a way that made a delicious final mark.
The meal was uncomplicated, perfectly executed, and outstanding. I believe from sit-down to out-the-door, I was at Mabel Gray for 90 minutes. And that was after some lingering and chatter near the end of the meal.
James seems like an all-time great dude, and I need to hit Mabel for their dinner service, which rotates with the seasons. There is no set menu. You’re expected to just roll with it, and you should.
Hopefully he opens an Italian restaurant one day.
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