Monza is a new pizza parlor with an old world feel, with motorized accessories and race car driver Pizza names. Monday night, we were sitting at the bar table overlooking the kitchen. The wood burning pizza stove in the corner immediately draws our focus as the fire-tender moves the wood to flame up right before adding in the next hand-tossed pie. Looking through the plexiglass to the stacks of white plates and further to the white tile wall with bright red fire-extinguishers, I feel like I belong in this clean kitchen with it’s young cooks and trendy, dressed in black, wait staff. There is no better place to be on a last minute Valentines Day dinner than this casual wood paneled room with its steel accents and neon red signs.
The hierarchy of the kitchen is immediately apparent. A guy in his early 30s with long hair, a beard and a white bandanna flits in and out of the kitchen. Never actually cooking, clearly he is in charge this evening. A young girl, long hair with blue bandanna, follows him around. I had seen them out together weeks prior, at a trendy new cocktail bar, so I know they are a couple and you can see it subtly here as well. The small glances, standing too close, coming and going together. A very young boy, early 20s if he is even out of his teens, with a bandanna the same as the man in charge and we watch him. He cooks the pasta, tossing it on top of a blazing hot range. He plates the dessert, Tiramisu of course. It’s the most romantic holiday, so a strawberry tart is also the special this evening. He attentively plates the dessert, squeeze bottles of chocolate and cherry in hand. It’s slow tonight, unexpected and a bit disappointing. Does no one in this town appreciate the simple romance of sharing a pizza, white wine in a juice glass and a warm red glow?
The young boy is bored but in love. Not with a girl but with this place and the people who create it every day. He meticulously cores a handful of strawberries, carefully pipes in the chocolate sauce. He searches for what he needs, a long, red pick to skewer back on the green top. A strawberry filled with chocolate made whole, a surprise. Each strawberry is plated in the center of a small demitasse plate, drizzled with more chocolate. Two plates he carries to the back, through the door, out of sight. The guy in charge and the young girl are back there. The young boy returns a minute later, a slight smile on his face, clearly pleased with the reaction. He grabs the other two plates and walks to the front, to the servers station. We are leaving, walking out the door and I glance back to see him standing, a plate in each hand, patiently waiting for the two young girls to finish their tasks and discover what he has created for them tonight, to show his love on Valentine’s Day.
