Mobsters and meatballs at the Market at Maglio's

On the morning after the Market at Maglio’s opened on Third Street below Pattison, it’s business as usual — a routine started when the Philly meat-men moved here in 1978 from Sixth and Dickinson. Shop owners and sandwich-makers back trucks onto the Maglio Sausage Co. loading dock to get their daily order of the family’s famed product. Only now after the opening last week, they can grab a hot sausage-and-peppers sandwich along with other Italian specialties.

This South Philly plant always had walk-in trade for its spice-blended links and aged provolones, but with neighborhood elders getting older and little word-of-mouth spreading to hipster inhabitants, co-owners Anthony Maglio Jr. and Jerry McNelis (Anthony’s nephew) thought change was necessary. “The younger generation didn’t realize we were here, like they know Ninth Street,” says Maglio Jr. So, they carved out 1,500-square-foot of airy, open space for the Market at Maglio’s, a spot for local gourmands “looking for uptown quality at downtown prices,” says Anthony L. Maglio, Maglio Jr.’s cousin and another co-owner.. 

The Italian specialty salon offers Philadelphia-based brands such as Cento tomato products, fresh breads from Cacia’s Bakery, olives and pasta from Severino and Citterio cured meats. “Can’t call ’em salaaaamis anymore,” says Joey “Squirrel” Carasquillo, a Market manager, with a laugh and a shrug. Of course, in the center is a Maglio’s section stacked with sausages, aged cheese wheels and sauteed broccoli rabe. Along with a Dietz & Watson’s deli counter, there’s a sandwich station with menu items like the “Jerry Harp” (a bologna and American cheese combo named for McNelis) and “The Goon,” ( a more traditionally Italian duo of sharp provolone and prosciutto) named for the late Anthony Maglio Sr., a butcher, one-time boxer, Palumbo’s bouncer and “genuine tough guy,” according to his son.

The Market at Maglio’s also has a prepared-foods station with sausage-and-peppers, eggplant and chicken Parms, sweet and spicy sausage, strombolis and meatballs packed and ready to go for stadium tailgaters and nine-to-fivers lacking time or motivation to cook for themselves. “The days of Anthony’s mom, God rest her soul, and my mom, where the wife stayed home cooking, are gone,” says Angelo Lutz, a Maglio Jr. childhood pal turned business associate. “This generation wants grab-and-go, so Maglio’s Market is here, not re-inventing the provolone wheel, but refining it.” He snickers, then continues his rat-a-tat-tat chatter. “Once we get ’em here, we wow ’em with everything the Italian Market on Ninth Street has, save for the trouble with parking.” Maglio Jr. holds his head and laughs at Lutz’s comments. “To some, Italian food is throwing frozen meatballs in Ragu,” snorts Lutz. “That’s why I’m doing marinara exclusive to the Market at Maglio’s, that and my signature sausage meatballs made with Ant’s [Anthony’s] sausage.”

It’s important to explain Lutz’s connection to the Maglios. Without it, you know nothing of their feeling of family, heritage and loyalty amidst the changing neighborhood around Pattison Avenue — “an empowerment zone” says Nick Triolo (a food-industry giant who came out of retirement to consult for his pals, the Maglios, and help expand the market for their sausage meatball), with its to-come casino.

The famously chatty Lutz was convicted of racketeering, gambling and extortion in a 2001 trial (where Joey Merlino was sentenced to 14 years), receiving the same sentence as two “made” members of the Merlino mob. Out of prison by 2008, Lutz only got more talkative when then-Inquirer/Philly.com publisher Brian Tierney gave him an online cooking show. One day while having lunch at Mr. Joe’s Café with reporter George Anastasia and radio host Steve Martorano, Lutz says he had a brainstorm: “I could do this. People think this is gourmet — [in New York] Rao’s charges $27 for pasta — but growing up, this was peasant food.” Lutz found a deal on a small restaurant once owned by Weber’s Root Beer in Collingswood, N.J., (“only thing I knew about Collingswood is that it was near the Cherry Hill horse track,” and named it Kitchen Consigliere Café. His first hit was a happy accident with a helping hand from the Maglios.

“I had no money when I opened the café,” Lutz says matter-of-factly. “No one lends money to a felon. These guys here though,” Lutz says, pointing at the Maglios, “they did, just like always. They believed in me when no one else did.”

In Lutz’s early catering days, his old pal Anthony Jr. had his back. “We might not have seen each other every day, but we knew where to find each other,” says Maglio Jr.

Continues Lutz, “When I started catering, I couldn’t buy big portions, so they made smaller packages for me. If I couldn’t pay upfront, I could sign for what I needed, and pay them when I got it. On the record, off the record, everybody knows about me. I messed up. But the Maglios were always cool with me, never shut me out. A lot of guys from South Philly turned their backs on me. That’s OK, ’cause Ant never did.” 

Maglio Jr. says that Lutz was always a man of his word. “If he didn’t have the money and said he’d give it to you later, he did.” 

Fast forward to the Kitchen Consigliere Café’s opening and Maglio’s was there, letting Lutz sign for the sausage, meats and cheese. “How could you not use their stuff? It’s all specially blended. It’s not just pork ground and stuffed into casing, you know? They curate that sausage. Their provolones? They’re the guys doing the aging. It’s their investment.” 

One day, Lutz received a delivery of 40 pounds of sausage, rather than his usual 20. With little refrigeration, he did the only thing a man could do: Make a Maglio sausage meatball. Blending the sausage with bread crumbs, fresh parsley, cheese and egg, he paired it with polenta, bitter greens, a long hot, some provolone and created a sales monster.

Lutz’s next brainstorm? Marketing that sausage meatball beyond his café and Maglio’s Market. While the Lutz/Maglio meatball partnership is part of the array of specialty prepared goods at the Market, it will also sell through Lutz’s new deal with QVC, marketing food items inspired by his Italian BYOB, such as a specialty prime rib cut that he premiered on Dec. 5. “This sausage meatball is gonna be mine and Ant’s Facebook,” says Lutz.

Both men dedicate the spirit of what they’re doing with their meatballs and at the Market at Maglio’s to their parents: Lutz to his mom, Helen, (a daughter of the Giunta brothers family of Italian food importers), who died while he was in prison, as well as to Maglio Jr.’s dad. “When I went bad, his father would grab me, talk to me, but always stand for me,” Lutz says.

Maglio Jr. says his dad would love the new Market. 

A pal of Frank Sinatra’s (the old man used to send Ol’ Blue Eyes sausage and deli platters), master butcher and literal taste-maker, Maglio Sr. opened his original butcher shop at 18th and Moore in 1947 and made his son learn every aspect of the business. “I swept driveways, cleaned bone marrow, stuffed sausage into casings and learned how to make everything spotless,” recalls Maglio Jr. with a chuckle. “There’s not a speck of dirt to be found here. My dad would love our new place.”

The Market at Maglio's | 3632 S. Third St., 215-465-3902, magliofoods.com. Hours: Mon.-Fri., 9 a.m.-6 p.m; Sat., 9 a.m.-5 p.m; Sun., 9 a.m.-3 p.m.