Vittorio Ristorante & Pizzeria Celebrates 40th Anniversary

Contributing Writer Jimmy Dunne Shares the History of the Space

By JIMMY DUNNE | Contributing Writer

This is really a story about what towns and families and passionate hearts bring to the table in people’s lives.

“Bring to the table”—we’ll come back to that.

Vittorio Ristorante & Pizzeria: We lived down the street from this neighborhood Italian family restaurant. On the evening of October 18—with a whole town of the dearest Palisadians—I was there to celebrate its 40th anniversary.

(The odds of a restaurant in LA pulling that off? About the same I’d give a tyrannosaurus rex crossing Wilshire at the La Brea Tar Pits.)

I knew the original owner, Giovanni Mazzola, a New York Italian. The real deal.

Back on the streets of New York, a guy called him “Vittorio.” Mazzola told him, “You’ll see, I’m gonna be a somebody, open a restaurant and name it ‘Vittorio.’”

And he did. Not exactly at an address that realtors would scream, “Location, location, location.” On Marquez Avenue, one mile outside of the village in the Palisades.

Enter Mercedes Pellegrini. Born and raised in a sweet little town in Brazil in a family of eight. German and Spanish blood.

Mercedes was as ambitious and smart as you get. Graduated from University of São Paulo with a carnival of dreams.

Blink, she’s married in a one-bedroom apartment in Van Nuys, can barely speak English and is raising two sweet-pea girls, Vanessa and Sabrina.

Her pal, the wife of the president of Gemco, tastes one of her dessert cakes and flips—telling her she needs to sell these things. Offers to be her free-of-charge sales team.

Next thing you know, Mercedes is baking up hundreds of them every day in her garage, driving her cakes and her two sleeping girls in her raggedy Datsun to Peppone and lots of other snappy restaurants all over the Westside.

Right out of her garage, she was making wedding cakes for Elizabeth Taylor, with folks like Robert Redford, Sylvester Stallone and Clint Eastwood loving on her cakes.

Here’s where our stories merge.

One of her clients—Giovanni Mazzola at Vittorio.

Mazzola offers to sell her the restaurant for a lot more than Mercedes had. She knew how long it would take just to break even.

She put everything—I mean everything—on the line. Took the deal.

Mercedes drove her 10- and 12-year-old daughters over the canyon to her new restaurant. Walked into the kitchen holding her daughters’ hands.

Looked her chefs and crew in the eyes. Promised them she’d treat them like family, with the respect they deserve.

That they’re all going to be on this ride together.

And, right then, they all made a pact that if they do this, they’re going to do it right.

“It’s all homemade,” Vanessa said so proudly. “Nothing, nothing comes out of a jar, a can, a bottle, a freezer. No microwaves. All fresh. We never, never, never skimp. And the cheese? Comes straight from Italy. When you step in here, you’re in your neighborhood kitchen.”

And the “neighbors” sure do love it. Ones down the street, ones all over the Palisades, ones from all over Los Angeles.

Families celebrating important events in their lives, couples having a dinner out and so many regulars stopping by for a glass of wine with those should-be-illegal garlic balls.

Everybody, every age, every walk of life. All walking out with garlic on their breath and a smile on their face.

“Celebrities love it here because we don’t treat them like celebrities,” Vanessa said. “We treat them like neighbors.”

Anthony Hopkins holds court with his pals at “Tony’s Table” in the corner. The Crystals, Guttenbergs, McGinleys, Keatons, Shorts, Sandlers—a handful of the three Musketeers’ “favs.”

Word has it Matt Damon is gaa-gaa about their chicken parmesan: “That’s a big nod since he’s from Boston,” Mercedes grinned.

About those amazing girls.

Vanessa started working after school at 12, cleaning the dishes, cutting lemons, bussing the tables—and she hasn’t stopped working there since. Sabrina followed behind her. They’ve been involved in the creative tapestry of every inch of this town treasure.

“I get to work right beside my daughters, my beautiful, talented daughters,” Mercedes said. “We’re best friends. How blessed am I?”

And giving back, they sure do.

During the holidays, they’ve gathered gifts for Children’s Hospital and Claris Health (helping challenged women all over the city) for 15 years. They’ve partnered with Schools on Wheels, Happy Trails and Sons of the American Legion.

They’ve served thousands of meals to kids and families in need—and handed out 12,000-plus toys and gifts to children throughout our city.

At Friday’s celebration, Mercedes and her daughters spoke about their respect for their landlord, John Wilson.

They told the full-of-love room that he is a part of their family, and he’s been in their corner through the thick and thin of COVID and every other life hiccup.

Vanessa called out all the chefs and staff from the kitchen, most of who had been there for decades. The crowd erupted.

Master Chef Jerry since day one—there for 40 years, missing only two days ever.

Superstar Chef Mario for 39 years. Pizza Chef Lazaro, 28 years (and who makes the garlic rolls). Seafood Chef Eliseo, 24 years. Chef Julian, 14 years (the Italian chopped salad is his creation).

How does this possibly happen in the incredibly transient world of restaurant employees? Or any other business? 

Friday night, I found myself standing at the back of the restaurant, taking it in.

Looking at neighbors bringing in flowers. Hugging and loving all over the place. Lots and lots of tears of joy.

I was looking through the menu at what they served. It listed the choices. The ingredients in each one.

It’s just not true. That’s not what you get when you’re there.

You get so much more.

You get served what family means. What friendships mean. What a town means. What passion means. What commitment means.

What making a difference means.

Cheers to all of you in the Vittorio family. How lucky and full you make us feel.