M. Wells fans lining up outside Manducatis Rustica on Saturday morning.
When I heard that M. Wells was teaming up with Manducatis Rustica to co-host a brunch I immediately signed on. It had been two years since I had last eaten anything at Gianna Cerbone-Teoli’s restaurant other than her wonderful gelato. As for M. Wells my last meal there took place five months ago, but it felt more like a year. So on Saturday morning I did what any faithful fan of the beloved, bizarre L.I.C. diner would do. I gleefully waited on line outside Manducatis Rustica. By 10:30 the line stretched down the block, causing an Alobar staffer to poke his out the door and bellow across the street, “What are you all waiting on line for?” “Brunch!” answered a chorus of hungry voices.
Hugue Dufour takes a break from the fry station to mug for the camera.
Before queueing up I poked my head in the kitchen to harass Dufour; his wife, Sarah Obraitis; and Cerbone-Teoli. Although somewhat harried due to the imminent reality of serving brunch to 100 or so folks, the overall mood was festive. It felt more like a family reunion or a big party, which in fact it was. And it felt even more so when I ran into fellow M. Wells fan Bowtie Jim on line.
An offering to Our Lady of Perpetual Brunch in the form of
M. Wells breakfast sandwiches and a fifth of Canadian Club.
“Occupy Manducatis Rustica,” I kidded one of the M. Wells cooks when I learned that the two staffs had been toiling together for three days to produce the brunch. The energy in the Italian kitchen that had been taken over by a crazed Quebecois chef reminded me of the weeks my folks would spend in preparation for Thanksgiving.
Brunch started with biscuits and creton—a rustic pork pâté.
Diners at each butcher paper covered table were greeted with biscuits and a dish piled with creton, a rustic pork pâté. The lush fatty spread on the warm bread set the tone for a truly epic brunch.
Shrimp and bacalao fritters cozy up to creton.
Next came shrimp and bacalao fritters with a creamy mostarda. Crunchy and shot through with bits of seafood and corn they were like a Mediterranean hush puppy. While our table was still munching on the fritters, longtime M. Wells GM Deven Demarco came by bearing two platters. “There’s never enough pork,” he said setting them down. Each was laden with slabs of mahogany hued pork belly that had been poached and anointed with maple syrup. The smoked belly had come from the Ridgewood Pork Store. As I was savoring the sweet slightly cured meat Bowtie Jim turned to me and asked me a personal question. “Are you going to eat your skin?”
Rustica’s pizza oven was put to good use.
No sooner had the pork belly been dispatched than Cerbone-Teoli came by bearing two pizzas. Each foot-long elliptical pie was crowned with eggs that she advised us to “smoosh around.” One was a veggie pie topped with rich cheese, zucchini, and eggplant, the other a mushroom and sausage number. Both were excellent.
Huevos rancheros à la M. Wells.
In keeping with the egg theme next came a platter of wobbly sous vide cooked huevos rancheros sitting in a lake of beans. Strips of fried tortilla and salsa verde were scattered on top. As I was scooping up some of this crazy dish the deejay was spinning an especially apt cut from Isaac Hayes’ Hot Buttered Soul, specifically the one with the line, “My gastronomical stupenisty is satisfied.” Indeed. By now I regretted the previous evening’s voluminous Chinese meal. And then I remembered I was in an Italian restaurant and ordered a midcourse Chinotto. Made from the same citrus that flavors Campari it proved both refreshing and restorative.
The infamous M.Wells breakfast sandwich rides again.
The fifth course in the brunch parade was a classic—the M. Wells breakfast sandwich. Housemade sausage patty, eggs, pickled green tomato, cheese, and jalapeño on a freshly baked muffin slathered with plenty of Hollandaise, it was stupendous. So much so that I ate only half. “You keep up quite well for a little man,” Bowtie James,who is something of a force to be reckoned with when it comes to fressing, said. I believe that it was at this point in the meal that I tweeted something about Dufour and his wife trying to kill me.
Tortilla Espanola with veal brains and a zippy garlic basil sauce.
Offal lover that I am I rallied for the final savory course: Tortilla Espanola with veal brains. Crispy and brown on the outside with a creamy interior the potato and brain frittata was dressed with a bright basil and garlic sauce. Somehow I found room for a slice or two.
A fellow diner used the butcher paper to commemorate the epic brunch.
The meal ended with hazelnut cream filled cannoli. This was a followed by a teeny cup of whimsical peanut butter and jelly gelato. As I was enjoying the gelato I noticed a diner across the room intently doodling on the butcher paper tablecloth. Visual designer Phillip Mamuyac had lovingly recorded the meal in a sketch. It included a zombie lusting for the brains in the tortilla Espanola. Back outside in the bright winter sun with food high in full effect Bowtie Jim and watched as Phil presented his work to M. Wells line cook, Caroline. It was a perfect ending to a perfect day.
Manducatis Rustica, 46-35 Vernon Blvd. Long Island City, 718-937-1312
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