Little Italy ...

There are a countless amount of small pizza/sandwich shops dotting the streets of Center City Philadelphia. Just walk down any block or turn any corner and you'll see signs boasting "Home of the Gyro" or "Philly's Best Slices" or "Free Delivery" on flyers scotched taped to the glass or scripted in green and red neon dangling from the chipped paint that frames the storefront windows. You'll see names like Lorenzo's or Randazzo's or Taste of Sicily, but when you walk inside, you're no longer surprised to see the place being run by Hispanics or Asians. And usually there's no more than 2 or three people behind the counter, one taking and ringing up orders and another further back in the tiny overheated kitchen flipping burgers, dunking baskets into the deep fryer or spinning dough in the air.

But it seems that a new pizza place (around in the neighborhood for less than a year) is bringing back not only the true family business, but the true family Italian business. I'm talking about a very small place at 18th and South Streets called Lazarro's. It's freshly painted facade of red, white and green stripes is brightly illuminated by stark white florescent lights. It's tiny waiting/order area has a counter under the front window with 3 bar stools, 2 glass encased drink coolers and a small colored television set hanging from the wall close to the ceiling. The tiled counter is topped with a glass barrier running the width of the store (which is only about ten feet). But what's truly amazing is what goes on behind that glass barrier, in the small confines of the prep area and kitchen in the rear. I went in to this place the other night to get a cheesesteak on my way home from Uncles and found myself entranced by the bustling activity that filled the small pizza shop.

The waiting area is crowded with people waiting to place or pick up orders. I wait my turn and am eventually greeted by a rugged looking Italian man standing at the register. Slightly overweight and with a beard stubble growth that was probably only hours old, he greeted me enthusiastically with a thick, almost unintelligible accent. His fresh white t-shirt looked a size too small and his thick tanned arms, complete with a layer of dark hair, seemed to strain against the cotton fabric. I placed my order (cheese steak, provolone cheese, mayonaise) and, as he wrote it vigorously down on a pad of paper, he barked out the order over his shoulder: "Chiss stick, plo-vlone, minnaize!" A second later, like the far off chirp of a cicada, came a voice from the back of the kitchen, in a similar thick accent: "Chiss stick, plo-vlone, minnaize!" As I handed the man my money, I spotted the man behind the 2nd voice. Thick dark hair greased back and a beard lining the squared contour of his jawline, a thin muscular Italian man wearing another brilliantly white t-shirt slapped a slab of frozen steak onto the grille and began attacking it with a pair of steel spatulas.

Then I noticed a third guy at the service desk, checking orders against what was being boxed up or bagged. A forth guy pounded his fists into a ball of raw dough, spreading it out into a disk shape before sliding it down the counter for yet another guy to pour the sauce and spread the cheese across someone's future dinner. A sixth guy was making salads. A seventh was, I would assume, the hoagie man. An eighth was checking the pizzas in the oven while yet the ninth was removing and boxing pizzas that were cooked. A tenth man serpintined his way through the other workers pushing a broom infront of him across the kitchen floor. All were fashioned in the same t-shirts, tight fitting against tanned necks and arms, all ranged in age from about 20 to 35 and all looked to be brothers. The only English spoken was to the people on the public side of the service counter.

I was completely amazed by the efficiency that had obviously been perfected in such a small space. Ten men, each with their own little job, blending together to create an atmosphere that flowed effortlessly from order taken to order completed. I suddenly found myself smiling slightly as I watched this, thinking that this must be what it is like to be inside a beehive.

It was an amazing thing to watch.

And the cheesesteak was very good.