A Great Old-School Italian-American Place
I was in Charlotte, North Carolina recently to attend a show at the Belk Theater at Blumenthal Performing Arts Center (a fabulous venue, by the way) and was hunting for an Italian eatery for our theater party of four.
Many years ago, my default Italian place in Charlotte was a lovely spot called Zarrelli's, run by a charming Neapolitan immigrant named Aniello “Neal” Zarrelli. Sadly, Neal died in 2017 at the age of 87 and his wonderfully warm and welcoming restaurant passed into the Queen City's culinary history.
Charlotte is an up-and-coming food city and there is no shortage of modern, upscale Italian restaurants in the metropolitan area. But I do so miss Zarrelli's and it's traditional menu and atmosphere. So when my online search led me to a story about the city's first pizza restaurant, I was intrigued.
Located on West Morehead Street between Freedom Drive and I-77, The Open Kitchen was founded by brothers Speros and Steve Kokenes back in 1952 to serve the factory workers in what was then a heavily industrial neighborhood. And if the surname “Kokenes” doesn't sound particularly Italian to you, that's because it's not: the brothers were of Greek heritage. Steve was born in Washington, DC and that's where he first encountered a relatively new dish called “pizza” or "pizza pie" as it was often dubbed in those days.
It's hard to imagine today, as pizza has become so ubiquitous and embedded in American culture, but back then pizza was an exotic dish found only in Italian enclaves in big cities. Gennaro Lombardi, an immigrant from Naples, is generally credited with opening America's first pizzeria in Manhattan's Little Italy back in 1905. American servicemen in WWII developed a taste for the tasty comestible when they encountered it in local places in Italy and they brought that taste back home with them. Soon pizza was moving out of the “in” spots in places like New York, Chicago, and Philadelphia and was spreading across the culinary landscape like wildfire. That fire was fed by entrepreneurs like Dan and Frank Carney, who founded Pizza Hut in Wichita, Kansas in 1958 and by local Italian immigrants like the two that opened the first pizzerias in my small Midwestern home town; Marino's, in 1955 and Luigi's in 1957. Both places were huge hits with area teenagers who were among those that helped pizza take over the American food scene in the next decade.
Anyway, the Kokenes brothers brought the new-fangled dish to this Southern bastion of grits and gravy nearly seventy years ago and it's still going strong in its original, definitely retro location. The neighborhood has changed and is now “trendy,” but the venerable eatery still reflects the Greek and Italian traditions of the family that opened it, and pizza is still at the center of the menu.
I fell in love with the exterior at first sight. Thanks to renovations and expansions in the '60s and '70s, the place doesn't look exactly like it did back in 1952, but it's darn close. Then I stepped through the front door and was immediately transported back in time.
The comforting aroma of Italian food caresses your olfactory sense as soon as you enter. You are seated at a sturdy table covered by a red-checkered cloth and you are presented with menus. You can barely read them, of course, because the place is very dimly lit, just as a traditional red sauce joint should be. The friendly and accommodating server takes your drink order and returns fairly promptly with your beverages and with a basket overflowing with an assortment of fresh bread, little tubs of butter, crackers, and some very slightly stale individually wrapped breadsticks. Remember those? I do. They were the highlight of my meal when I was about ten years old.
Now it's time to order.
As I said, there are a lot of Greek touches to the menu including Chicken Livers Greque, Pizza ala Greque, and a Greek Salad, but the focus is on Italian-American dishes like Baked Ziti and Chicken Parmigiana, along with various other chicken, veal, and seafood offerings. And, of course, lots of pasta. There are a variety of soups, salads, and appetizers from which to choose and several Italian-ish sandwiches, if that's your thing. And, lest we forget the star of the show, there's pizza.
My dining companions all went in different directions. One ordered Lasagna Di Stefano – a blend of pasta, ricotta and provolone cheeses “oozing with our tempting meat sauce.” Another chose the Chicken Parmigiana – “tender chicken, sautéed in a tomato, mushroom, and wine sauce, then covered with mozzarella cheese and baked to perfection. Served with spaghetti ala marinara.” My wife opted for meat ravioli in an “oh-my-god” meat sauce. As for me, hey! Sul serio? Why would I go to Charlotte's first pizza place and not order pizza?
Six 'o clock on a Saturday evening and the place was quite busy, but our food was delivered surprisingly quickly. And it was out-of-this-world good. We all ate until eravamo pieni – ma non troppo pieno per dolce. For you non-paesani, that sort of means we were stuffed but we saved room for dessert. Two chocolate mousse split among the four of us. Decadente e divino! The Open Kitchen features a nice selection of wine and beer and our choices perfectly complimented our wonderful meal.
Nothing we ate broke the bank: my simple cheese pizza was eight bucks, the lasagna was $10.75, the chicken parm was $15.75 and my wife's ravioli was $13.50. I have been to places where one entrée would have cost as much as our entire meal combined and would not necessarily have been anywhere near as good.
You'll find The Open Kitchen at 1318 West Morehead Street. They offer dine-in, curbside, and delivery. Open 11 am to 9 pm Monday through Thursday, from 11 am to 10 pm on Friday, and from 4 to 10 pm on Saturday and Sunday. Reservations are not required and large groups can be accommodated with sufficient prior notice. Dress is casual and parking is onsite, but it's not a very big lot. You can call them at (704) 375-7449 or find them on the Web at www.worldfamousopenkitchen.com.
May the late Neal Zarrelli rest in peace knowing that there is still a great old-school Italian-American place thriving in his city. And The Open Kitchen has definitely made the list as my new “go to” eatery there. Now, if only they had somebody strolling through the dining room singing opera like Neal used to. Beh, non puoi avere tutto. (You can't have everything.)
