Yes, you're reading that correctly.
Moscato's is back.
In fact, the Tuscan trattoria, which closed in 2005 in the Downtown Easton space now occupied by Sette Luna, never really went away to begin with. Owner Donna Marie Burdi simply decided it was not the right time to continue to run it. Instead, she opened up what she refers to as “the Grotto” on William Penn Highway, a full-size kitchen with a small space for catering—a table that seats 12 people. Mostly, she uses it to prep for off-site catering, such as the 400-person wedding she catered last fall at Four Sisters Winery in New Jersey. But I'm getting sidetracked before I even start.
Named after the wine grape that Burdi is especially fond of, Moscato's received a second lease on life at the site of the former Mangia restaurant in Palmer Township. The space became available when the restaurant closed and she heard about it through her landlord at the Grotto, who owned both spaces. When she learned of its availability, she thought, “Why not?” She didn't even think about it. She just did it. She opened up a year ago in March, and hasn't looked back.
Many of the menu items have remained, such as homemade pasta dishes and one of its signature dishes, butternut squash ravioli, bigger than you're expecting and chock full of freshly roasted squash and herbs. (It's a dish Burdi's quick to point out they were doing long before it suddenly became popular everywhere else—she's right). In this incarnation of Moscato's, the menu has expanded a bit to include some traditional items that are served with a side of pasta and a house salad.
...when people ask her what she does for a living, she never says she owns a restaurant. “I often say I'm a stay-at-home mom. I never say I'm a restaurateur.”
Expect offerings such as chicken picatta, penne Napolitano, chicken Parmesan and chicken Marsala. “This way, we aren't just a destination restaurant. We're affordable enough for people to come out once a week or twice a week or every other week,” she says. (You may also recognize the same high-quality linens—she's still importing them from Florence in sunny Tuscan color schemes.)
With the menu comes her seasoned veteran chef Richard Ferretti, whom she affectionately calls Richie and who cooked in New York and New Jersey before ending up here in the Lehigh Valley at Bellissimo before Burdi nabbed him. They've worked together for 11 years, dating back to the early days of Moscato's downtown. You could argue, though, that they go back further than that; they discovered that they grew up about five minutes from each other as kids, she in Union and he in Scotch Plains, New Jersey. “We're on the same page about everything,” he says, and that's evident in their brother-sister rapport, finishing each other's sentences and talking passionately about what they do.
These days, they're putting together dishes that aspire to and achieve great quality because they start with the best ingredients possible—that old kitchen truism. You won't find a fryer or a microwave. “We will never compromise the quality. We're both always reaching for the most expensive ingredients, the best ones on the shelf,” she says, and in their restaurant's backyard, where they grow vegetables in season in several raised beds and can pick figs right off the trees. “I can't live anywhere without fig trees,” Burdi says.
People stumble in and sometimes expect just a wham-bam pizzeria-restaurant. Perhaps they're surprised to find a place with such focused attention to details. Although Moscato's does serve pizza, Burdi says “…people don't understand sometimes that it takes time.” Once they receive their meal, they can discern the difference, she says. Anyone for pizza with artichokes, arugula, or prosciutto?
But none of this really and truly captures Moscato's. When I arrived for the interview, the place was still crowded, even though at nearly two o'clock it was well past lunch. Burdi later told me, “When people come here, they don't want to leave—they know they can stay,” and they do, often for two hours or more. Burdi immediately sat me down with her mother, Louise Helwig, and Mom's sister, her godmother Bernadette Sages (Aunt Bernie), who'd just finished eating lunch. I felt like I'd hit the journalistic jackpot. “It's their fault I'm here,” she said, good-naturedly, gesturing to her mom and aunt.
I quickly learned from these ladies that much of what Burdi does at the restaurant—make pasta from scratch, sew linens and assemble interior décor elements—she learned from these ladies and her father. Also, the mother of her best friend in high school was a caterer, and that appealed to her. Her dad was in the bar and concessions business, and “I just took it to the next level,” she said. The first thing she learned how to make was the natural gateway dish for Italian-Americans: meatballs. By the time Burdi was 18 or 19, she was cooking for her parents' anniversary party. The feeling she experienced putting it together and preparing the meals for them was like no other. “It's like a constant high,” she says.
Moscato's Italian Trattoria
190 S. Greenwood Ave.
Easton
610.250.0552
moscatos.net
Hours:
Lunch: Tuesday-Friday, 11:30 a.m.-2 p.m.
Dinner: Tuesday-Thursday, 5-9 p.m.; Friday and
Saturday, 5-10 p.m.; Sunday, 4-9 p.m.
Reservations:
Definitely recommended on weekends
Dress code:
Casual
Parking:
Ample; there's a lot on the premises
Payment:
Visa, MasterCard, American Express, Discover
BYOB
What to Order:
Tuscan bean soup, stuffed veal chops, any of
the pasta dishes but especially the pappardelle
Bolognese, butternut squash ravioli and the risotto del giorno. Regardless of how it's prepared that day, it's “out of this world,” Donna says.
Specials:
Every third Sunday, Moscato's hosts an Italian feast, in conjunction with Tempo Italiano radio
program and features live music. It's typically
$35 for a buffet of pasta, sausage and peppers, salads, pastries and cookies, along with complimentary wines and sangria. Moscato's also
provides full-service on-premise or off-site catering.
It's not uncommon to learn how to cook by learning from your family, but how many people grow up eating only fresh pasta? “I never had boxed pasta as a kid,” she says, and neither did her two children, Bella, 16, and Joe, 20, whose favorite dishes grace the menu and who often help out when they can. And that is why she personally makes 10 pounds of ravioli for the restaurant by hand every week, and the restaurant goes through 40 pounds of pasta per week. There's little distinction between home and work. “I still fuss over them; I do the same thing at home for my kids as I do here. I'll make them whatever they want,” she says.
“Oh, she always loved to cook,” says Louise, her mom. Aunt Bernie chimes in and says, “Tell her about the time when she called you and wanted to make lasagna.” Louise then begins to tell a story about how Donna called from vacation in Colorado and said, “Mom, I want to make lasagna.” “Why does she want to make lasagna on vacation?” the ladies laugh. The regaling continues, with the three women interrupting each other's stories and laughing. These days, Bella follows comfortably in her mother's footsteps, calling her mom to ask about making this or that. “All she needs to know are the ingredients, and she knows what to do with them,” says Burdi. “I don't tell her measurements or amounts or anything.” Growing up with a good teacher in the kitchen helps an evolving cook absorb bits of information, often without even realizing it.
Although many of Moscato's regulars from the Downtown Easton days have found the restaurant again, “A lot of people definitely don't know we're here,” she says. Burdi and Ferretti said they didn't have a lot to invest in advertising at first, and they count on the word of mouth that a good visit to the restaurant can generate. People seem to love the pasta (have we mentioned this already?), the frutta di mare, the chicken Parmesan, the stuffed French veal chop. The warming Tuscan soup with white beans is a nod to her Aunt Bernie, who makes the best in the family. At Moscato's, they use spinach instead of her aunt's escarole, “…and we throw it in at the end. Those things make a difference,” Ferretti says. Indeed. It's the difference between bright green, gently wilted spinach and a vegetable that gets bland, mushy and an off-shade of green if you add it too soon.
Burdi has turned that “constant high” into a way of life—so much so that when people ask her what she does for a living, she never says she owns a restaurant. “I often say I'm a stay-at-home mom. I never say I'm a restaurateur,” she says. I laughed in disbelief at what seemed like a really good joke, especially considering her earlier admittance to me that she wouldn't know what to do if she stopped doing what she does. It's clearly a lot of work; honest, exhausting work at that. However, Burdi's not one of those people with traditional, discrete delineations of work, play and home; she's fortunate because she knows no other way to live. (She did have a brief stint in finance; this too, made me laugh.) Burdi passionately pours herself into her livelihood, and that's why Moscato's feels like a natural extension of her own kitchen, with a revolving door of family and friends kissing cheeks and interrupting and sharing stories. It does not feel like work; your family members, sitting there enjoying themselves, are a welcome, integral part of Moscato's generous beating heart. “If a family comes in with baby and the baby falls asleep, I put the baby in this antique crate (which usually houses her linens) and set it next to their table so the parents can eat.” She pauses, and then says, “if there's a baby here, I'll walk around with it in my arms.”
I'm not going to invoke the stupid Olive Garden trope, but when I left Moscato's, Burdi gave me a jar of homemade tomato sauce before I could say a word and kissed me on the cheek. It's no wonder people keep coming back. That's real, people.
