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Mamma Zu opened in 1994 at 501 S. Pine St. in Oregon Hill. (Photo by Eileen Mellon)
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A "For Lease" sign appears in the window of the former Mamma Zu building. (Photo by Eileen Mellon)
Twenty-seven years ago, second-generation Italian American Ed Vasaio opened Mamma Zu restaurant at the corner of South Pine and Spring streets in Oregon Hill.
To someone unfamiliar, the inconspicuous brick eatery with a hunter green door and faded cursive signage could have appeared abandoned, but the pungent smell of garlic and lines of eager patrons down the block spoke differently, as did the tiny window on the side of the restaurant that offered a glimpse into the Italian refuge, a soft amber glow cast over the dining room.
After the restaurant had been closed for the entirety of the pandemic, a “For Lease” sign appeared on the Mamma Zu building on Monday, Aug. 9, silencing whispers about its closure that had been circulating for months.
Someone told me I should write something healing about Mamma Zu, and I think that’s because that's what Mamma Zu was to a lot of people who walked through the door: a place to heal through food and a pour of house red wine.
Mamma Zu was unfussy and unpretentious. It was the kind of place I believe the late Anthony Bourdain was referring to when he said "no reservations," home to a massive chalkboard behind the bar with handwritten daily specials, familiar faces and reliable dishes. In its time, the restaurant gained a reputation for being slightly surly, notorious for its brash service. But as with the rustic, authentic food, there was no sugarcoating; you got what you got.
Mamma Zu attracted celebrities from Tom Hanks, during the filming of “Ithaca,” to Bruce Springsteen, who was spotted having dinner with his family at the Oregon Hill eatery. It was where people went for midweek lunches, birthdays and even post-funeral gatherings, where diners showed up in T-shirts and button-downs, all finding a common solace in steaming white oval plates of comfort.
While its remaining sister eateries Edo’s Squid, Dinamo and two locations 8 1/2 embrace the same spirit, Mamma Zu will forever remain an integral part of Richmond’s dining scene, a garlic-tinged chapter that will be brought up over meals for years to come.
Attempts to reach out to Vasaio were not returned.
Pine Street Chronicles
Personal stories and accounts about the legendary Mamma Zu
"What makes Ed Vasaio, and Mamma Zu, world class is the heartfelt understanding of what makes food sublime rather than merely sustenance. He was sourcing ingredients and buying the best long before anyone else in Richmond, without putting superlatives on his menu, like "honest" or "local." Ed introduced folks to a lot of firsts. Broccoletti was unavailable in Richmond until he put it on the menu.
One day in the late '90s, I was having lunch at Mamma Zu with a family friend … when Billy Fallen walked in with an industrial flour bag full of bread still warm from the oven. He had just started Billy Bread and was taking samples to local restaurants. Remember, this was at a time when bread was free and refilled as many times as the customer asked, without charge. It was noon, and most owners would have told Billy to take a hike. But not only did this not happen, Ed came out of the kitchen to try the bread right in the middle of the dining room, tearing off a big hunk. The next time we went to Mamma Zu, the bread in the basket was Billy Bread, served without extra charge and with the best Italian food in town.
Ed knew how to cook unusual tidbits, like squid, belly clams or truffles, items rarely purchased fresh in the '90s. He cooked with and served high-quality olive oil on the tables. Like his friend Jimmy Sneed, who worked for Jean-Louis Palladin, Ed would go to the back door to investigate what foragers, crabbers and hunters had bagged, identifying the choicest morsels, then preparing them simply so the food did the talking. People quickly learned to come to him — not only to buy their products, but for advice, or simply a glass of wine in a juice glass to celebrate victory or drown defeat."
—Genevelyn Steele, Richmond magazine contributing writer and former Mamma Zu employee
“Mamma Zu is Richmond’s Rao’s — an iconic, romantic, eternally stylish, perfect restaurant in so many ways. Could easily be featured in any Scorsese film ever. Put some respect on the name always; if it is truly gone forever, then R.I.P. to the greatest. Richmond is so fortunate to have Edo’s, Dinamo, et al.”
—Constantine Giavos, son of restaurateurs Katrina and Johnny Giavos and creative director for the family businesses
“Ed always treated me like I was part of his family, and he would sometimes cook for me, and sometimes stuff just appeared. It’s an institution, and 25 years is a heck of a run. It’s kind of really sad, but at the same time I’m happy for Ed; he has a lot of freedom now, and I understand that feeling, but I will miss his sweetbreads, they were my favorite. What made it special … everything from Dave the manager to Ed, he put a stamp on it, and I think he created an institution. It’s an evolution, and sad for us because we won’t have that space or delicious taste in our mouth that we took for granted. The meals were always perfect and always tasted as delicious as it smelled, I honestly never had a bad meal. That place was so busy, every night at Mamma Zu’s was like New Year’s Eve, and my favorite time to go was Monday lunch, not many people knew it was open then.” [Laughs]
—Manny Mendez, local restaurateur, owner of Kuba Kuba and Kuba Kuba Dos, and co-owner of Galley and Little Nickel
A painting of Donny Corker, aka "Dirt Woman," that hangs in L'Opossum (Photo courtesy David Shannon)
“Shortly after [we opened] L’Opossum, Ed was in for dinner at the bar and brought me this watercolor of Donnie Corker, aka 'Dirt Woman,' by Jenn Rockwell, who worked at Mamma Zu. It was such a friendly welcome to the neighborhood, and it hangs at the bar to this day.”
—David Shannon, chef and proprietor of L’Opossum
“I owned a wine shop in Richmond for a long time called Strawberry Street Vineyard in the Fan. When Ed opened up 8 1/2 in the early 2000s, I really got to know him better. I had my rehearsal dinner at Mamma Zu, and I’ll never forget it — we had 14 people, a very small wedding, and we came in there and ate everything on the menu; I don’t know how much wine we consumed. That was always the fun of Mamma Zu: It had a buzz and had a vibe, and you knew you couldn’t hardly eat your dinner without seeing people you knew. But the main thing, obviously, was the food. And the thing I think that separates a good restaurant from great restaurants is, yes, the quality, but also the consistency, and I think Ed was a very strict taskmaster when it came to people preparing dishes. His father was in the restaurant business and owned a spot called A.V. Ristorante Italiano, which catered to the political sect in D.C., very similar restaurant.
My two favorite dishes were the shad roe during spring and the sweetbreads. I’m really sorry to see him go. I think Richmond is losing a real landmark, 25 years is a remarkable stretch. We celebrated birthdays and anniversaries and funerals, wedding receptions, and when people came into town, that’s where I would take them, and everyone was always pretty happy and thankful.”
—Henry Reidy of Belmont Butchery
John Haddad and friends outside Mamma Zu in the late '90s (Photo courtesy John Haddad)
“I probably went there 100 times with the same core group of people to celebrate birthdays and holidays and Christmas and broke bread and gave gifts and drank lots of wine. This one group, we would get the same exact thing almost every time: Gorgonzola salad, all'Amatriciana pasta, eggplant parm, broccoletti and lots of tiramisu. It was a really special place, it was home. I ran into Bruce Springsteen there one time, and … when I look back at the timeline of life and the people I’ve been here with, it’s really special.
Atmospheric, garlicky and a little bit surly ... it was a really down-to-earth place. The whole deal was you couldn’t make a reso without six or more people, so you ate family style, and eating family style creates a different atmosphere — shared experiences around shared plates of pasta and white beans and veal scallopini. While one of our rituals was going there, there was also a ritual in how you went there. You had to check in with Dave and let him know your whole party was there, and sometimes the service was just funny, but it was part of the character and charm. That place had an attitude, and really the food was not refined but was so flavorful and rustic. I'm gonna miss it. I’ve eaten in some of the finest dining [establishments in] the world, and I’ll tell ya, Mamma Zu has a place in my heart, a certain pull over the years. There’s no restaurant I’ve eaten at more than Mamma Zu.”
—John Haddad, local freelance writer
“Mamma Zu's was responsible for introducing me to Italian food different from what you'd get at a strip mall. Ed set the early example for emphasizing fresh, seasonal, local ingredients. Mamma Zu's was the first place I ever remember seeing pea shoots, sugar toads, ramps. Straightforward dishes with an emphasis on the item, prepared well and served hot. It was a revelation in the 1990s, and it's still how I think about great food.”
—Kendra Feather, local restaurateur and owner of The Roosevelt and Laura Lee’s
“I was there about the third night Mamma Zu was open, and it was one of the first places I took my wife when we were dating. You could eat at the bar, and you were transported back, and north, to a Bronx Italian eatery. I’m going to miss the, ‘What do you want, red or white?’ Whatever was there was good; the house pour was always good.
I think my family is the last family to have eaten at Mamma Zu. In June of 2020 we were getting ready to go to Colorado to drop my daughter off at the U.S. Air Force Academy, and she said, ‘I would give anything to eat at Mamma Zu.’ I called Ed, and he said, ‘C’mon, let’s do this.’ It was alive again for a moment, and I never thought that that would be it.
Mamma Zu reflected the diversity of food tastes as well as the diversity of people that live in and work in Richmond. Donny Corker used to sit out there and talk smack and peel garlic, and it was something that people had wanted to say they had seen. My heart hurts, but I’m glad that whatever happened happened.
Ed’s a very sensitive person, and it showed in the menu he designed, because that menu remained relevant for all of these years. All of those tastes and people intersected at Pine and Spring streets; that was the intersection of people and palates in Richmond for me. It wasn’t a place to see and be seen, it was a place to eat. It was culinary excellence in this city, and all I can say is, thank God Edo’s is still there — you’re either a Mamma Zu person or [an] Edo’s Squid person. Now we’re all Edo’s people."
—Charlie Diradour, president at Lion's Paw Development Company, a local realty group specializing in retail and restaurants
Submissions were edited for length and clarity.
