Gianna Cerbone-Teoli is crazy about fish.

This edition of Seven Questions turns its attention to Gianna Cerbone-Teoli, the chef-owner of Manducatis Rustica in Long Island City. Mamma Gianna, as she is sometimes known, and her parents hail from Southern Italy She brings a sensibility to the restaurant game that's particularly refreshing to this Italian-American boy. Many thanks to Jesse Winter Photography for the use of the above photo. Take it away Gianna . . .

How long have you been a chef and how did you get into it?
I don't consider myself a chef I consider myself a cook. My love for food began at an early age watching my mother and coming from a long line of chefs. My grandfather on my Mom's side was a butcher owned a restaurant. My grandfather on my father's side owned two pastry shops, one in Naples and one in our hometown, Casino. I had no plans on being a chef. I would have rather have been a farmer or gallery owner, but my Mom was in Italy and needed someone to run the kitchen at Manducatis. I think my family was shocked more than anyone that I was able to do the job  without blinking . . . So, maybe I am a chef.

What are some of your favorite things to cook?
I love cooking fish. I love everything about fish. The other would be pasta. It's crazy how many things you can do with pasta, You can make anything from rosemary or fennel pappardelle to a squash gnocchi, little pockets filled with gorgonzola and nuts. Not to mention everything you can put on top it with, anything from fresh vegetables, fruits to meat and fish. There's nothing like a good pasta and meatballs on a Sunday.

When you are not busy running the show at Rustica where do you like to eat in Queens?
This is a difficult question being that most of my friends have restaurants in Queens and the other boroughs. It's no big secret that I'm a total Greek food aficionado. I love Agnanti. There's one place I do like to eat . . . and it's at home cooking with my boys.

What’s the last thing you ate good, bad, or otherwise?
I make a point of eating everything good. I like to try different things but I have to tell you I had fried calves liver with onions for dinner last night, LOVED it! And the worst thing I've eaten lately and got food poisoning was driving home from Florida and stopped at a famous food chain with the kids. I won't mention any names, but I want to know how the hell can families go eat at these places every night when it's so much easier to go food shopping and give your families something wholesome to eat. You can eat out wholesome but you have to choose where you go, that was an experience and a lesson that I'll never forget.

Manducatis Rustica, 46-33 Vernon Blvd., 718-937-1312

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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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Sal, Kris, and Charlie's Italian Combo is a force to be reckoned with. 

Lately I've been feeling a vague existential agita when it comes to sandwiches. Much as I love fancy grilled cheese sandwiches, epic tortas, and Uruguayan tea sandwiches something's been missing. Perhaps a return to my roots is in order. So for this week's Sandwich Wednesday, I made a pilgrimage of sorts to Sal, Kris, and Charlie's Deli. I first heard of the self-proclaimed "Sandwich King of Astoria" from Astorian and chef, Lee Anne Wong. Like many fans of this Italian deli, she's partial to The Bomb, a behemoth of sandwich that encompasses an entire deli case's worth of Italian meats and cheese along with an entire deli case's worth of American meats and cheeses.

Mortadella, complete with pistachios, is just one of the meats
that comprise the Italiam combo at sal, Kris, and Charlie's.

As appealing as the Bomb sounds yesterday was an Italian combo sort of day. It was the Feast of St. Anthony the Abbot, which I learned from my favorite Italian-American food blogger, Peter Francis Battaglia, is associated with all manner of porcine goodness. And really that's what all Italian combos are about. Packed with mortadella, salami, prosciutto, capiccola, pepperoni, and provolone the combo at Sal, Kris, and Charlies is no exception to this rule that the Italian combo is a celebration of pork and pork products.

Fork over $7.75 and you'll be presented with a sandwich as long as your arm. The gargantuan heroes here are a favorite of local firemen and Con Ed workers. Were there a sumo school nearby I have no doubt it would be a go-to meal for wrestlers as well. For this sandwich alone, the deli deserves the title "King." Ask for peppers and oil and vinegar, which do a nice job of brightening things up.

If you plan to eat the whole thing at once, do so in close proximity to a place to lie down. I ate three quarters of it and fell into a stupor. Don't plan on operating any heavy machinery afterwards either. Unless of course you're a Con Ed worker.

Sal, Kris, & Charlie's Deli, 33-12 23rd Ave., Astoria, 718-278-9240

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Excellent Italian and extreme eating under one roof.

A friend who lives in Astoria has been operatically singing the praises of Ornella Trattoria for almost a year. Particular praise was paid to the chestnut flour pasta. Yesterday I broke down and paid Giuseppe Viterale’s restaurant a visit. It wasn’t pasta that spurred me to go to Ornella though. It was reports buzzing around the New York City food blogosphere about a certain infamous Sardinian cheese, casu marzu. I’d first of heard of it while eating live octopus with Anthony Bourdain. “Oh this is nothing,” he said chopsticking  a wriggling tentacle into his mouth. “My wife’s family is from Sardinia, they eat that maggot cheese. It’s actually quite delicious.

Ornella’s duck meatballs in an orange brandy sauce.

Before the bizarre eating began Giuseppe suggested a few specialties of the house. First up, polpette di anatra ($12), duck meatballs. At the center of each orb was a blend of ricotta, fontina, and mozzarella cheeses. They sat in an orange brandy sauce punctuated with plump raisins. Definitely not your nonna’s meatballs—unless she happened to hail from Northeast Italy—yet  still delicious. Next came an order of pasta di castagna ($18), the aforementioned chestnut pasta. Sauced with a pistachio pesto and truffle oil it was good, if a tad heavy for my tastes. “I like to work with different flours, buckwheat,chickpea. My father had a flour mill in Italy,” Giuseppe said.

  Ornella’s sanguinaccio is bloody marvelous.

When the phrase “blood pudding” is uttered one thinks of savory morcilla and other sausages. Not until Giuseppe offered me some did I ever have a pudding actually made with blood. “Try this,” Giuseppe said proffering a bowl of sanguinaccio ($7).  It was rich and mousse-like with a deep chocolate flavor with an undertone of blood balanced by orange zest. All in all, quite nice.

 Casu marzu has the funk of gorgonzola and the bite of Pecorino.

“I almost forgot about the cheese,” Giuseppe said, as he removed several napkins enshrouding the infamous cheese. It appeared no different than any other wheel save for the fact that the top of the rind was caved in and shattered. That, and a not unpleasant pungent aroma were the sole distinguishing characteristics. And then he lifted the wheel of cheese exposing an underbelly teeming with maggots. No ordinary vermin these, but piophila casei, or cheese flies, which were introduced to the cheese purposely. The larvae digest the cheese rendering it quite different from the wheel of hard sheep’s milk cheese left outside in Giuseppe’s hometown of Rofrano several months ago.

It was brought to New York City by his campare Vincenzo and cracked into last Wednesday for the delectation of local gastronomes. These included Chef Ali El Sayed of nearby Kabab Café, who said a similar delicacy exists in Egypt. “I don’t sell it. I just let people who are fanatics about food like me taste it,” Giuseppe said spreading some on toast. Thankfully there were no maggots to be seen on the piece he offered me. It was like a more intense gorgonzola with a very pronounced sharpness. It reminded of eating chunks of Pecorino out of hand as a kid whilst grating  a supply for Sunday gravy. It was so good I had a second helping. I have a feeling my nonna would be proud.

Ornella Trattoria Italiana, 29-17 23 Ave., Astoria, 718-777-9477

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