Gaming Traveler | In Vegas, a taste of South Philly

South Philadelphia's Steve Martorano, who has opened one of Las Vegas' newest restaurants, acknowledges his place in the Rio All-Suite Hotel & Casino isn't for everyone. In fact, his concept of what a dining experience should be is so radical that some people walk out of his Cafe Martorano.

Yet, at his flagship restaurant-nightclub in Fort Lauderdale, Fla., Martorano's take on Italian food - specifically, South Philly-style Italian food - with an infusion of multimedia razzmatazz has customers lining up for three-hour waits most nights. He's hoping for the same in Vegas.

"I never claimed we could make everyone happy," says the tattooed, barrel-chested Martorano, whose looks lean more toward Wrestlemania than the Food Channel.

"The word is it. If you don't get it, we're not for you," he says. "My place is one stop. You come in and eat, then go to the bar and stay all night, if you want, for the music. If you want to have a conversation, come in from 5:30 to 8:30, but after 9 o'clock, it's a different atmosphere."

What distinguishes Martorano's restaurant is the high-tech accoutrements. Every table has a view of flat- screen TVs, and overhead are industrial-strength speakers. The purpose of the high-powered audio-video gadgetry becomes obvious when the TVs come alive with a clip from The Godfather or Goodfellas or A Bronx Tale. On the screen, someone invariably gets smacked around or whacked, and at the violent denouement, Martorano overlays music. It could be Sinatra or Motown, but whatever he picks, it's some aural juxtaposition that tweaks the action on the TV.

Later in the evening, the music and mood turn edgy, as they transition from spaghetti dinners with Rat Pack tunes to deafening hip-hop and female customers dancing on the tables.

The theatrical approach is something that comes natural for Martorano, who may have the only Italian restaurant with a DJ booth in the kitchen.

"I graduated from high school in '76 from Bishop Neumann, and I wanted to be a producer. Music was my passion," Martorano says. "My family was in the vending business, and my father used to bring home these 45s by the dozens."

Martorano's surname might be recognizable to those familiar with Philadelphia mobology. His uncle was Ray "Long John" Martorano, who spent a long stretch in prison before being gunned down in front of Pennsylvania Hospital in 2002. The connected uncle also owned Cous' Little Italy on 11th and Christian Streets in South Philadelphia, where legendary Philadelphia don Angelo Bruno had his last supper before he was assassinated in 1980.

Steve Martorano doesn't soft-pedal his family's background.

"My uncle was a man's man as far as I was concerned," the self-taught chef says. "He did 20-something years and kept his mouth shut. You tell me somebody who'll do that today."

But Martorano, who grew up in the King of Peace neighborhood around 26th and Wharton Streets, says he decided early that the wise-guy life wasn't for him. It was the type of business that may have been lucrative in the short run but from which few ever retired, he explains.

"I'm looking to brand the Martorano name a little different than my uncle," he says. In addition to the restaurants, he has a line of pasta sauces in supermarkets and gourmet stores.

While the film clips and music create the wild ambience of Cafe Martorano, the food is the star of the show.

Menu items include such South Philly favorites as linguini with fresh-shucked clams (Bruno's favorite, by the way); hot and sweet sausage with beans and escarole, and rigatoni with "Sunday pork gravy." A cheesesteak is listed as an appetizer, and so is the most popular dish in the house - giant homemade meatballs with an oil-and-vinegar salad.

The food may be old school, but the prices definitely are not. The cheesesteak? It's $18. That meatball appetizer, $24. The rigatoni with the pork gravy, $38. A 16-ounce veal chop topped with imported fontina cheese, four kinds of mushrooms, and Sicilian Marsala wine is $69.

Martorano says he spares no expense on the ingredients, such as extra virgin olive oil, San Marzano tomatoes, and prime steak for the sandwiches. And a declaration on the menu sums up his South Philly attitude: "Absolutely no changes or substitutions. This is the way I cook. Please enjoy and don't break b-!"

It's all a long way from how he started - selling hoagies in the early 1980s out of an apartment on 13th and Ritner Streets and, after the police closed him down, from his mother's basement. Martorano eventually moved to a more mainstream food business in Northeast Philadelphia until the real estate bust of the early '90s broke him.

He sought help from a relative in South Florida and, after a scouting visit, discovered a tiny, underachieving eatery near the beach in Fort Lauderdale. When Martorano took it over, it was 800 square feet and doing about $500 a week, he says. Now, it's 2,700 square feet, and he says he expects to gross more than $6 million this year.

Now, he's moved his unorthodox approach to Las Vegas, where he first started serving during the NBA All-Star revelry in February and had an official grand opening last month.

Martorano counts as fans pro football Hall of Famer Dan Marino, basketball star Shaquille O'Neal, cast members of The Sopranos, and hip-hop artists. His tough-guy mug is on a jumbo TV screen outside Bally's hotel-casino on the Las Vegas Strip, but he wants people from his hometown to know he's carrying the city's flag.

"New York, Chicago, they're all great towns. But no one has food like South Philadelphia," he says. "This isn't Steve Martorano's cooking. Always, always it's been South Philly's cooking."

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For a look at the menu, go to www.harrahs.com/casinos/rio/restaurants-dining/cafe-martorano-detail.html

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