Many potential patrons will first take note of the new Las Vegas restaurant Superfrico because its name echoes the title of Rick James’ exuberant 1981 paean to carnal adventure (The lyrics to Superfreak also boast the immortal gastro-lascivious couplet “I’d really like to taste her/Every time we meet”). But fromage fans will catch another alluring reference: Frico is the Italian term for the umami-rich fried cheese rind crisps that were once a familiar snack among the Friulian peasantry. It has also become the moniker for the salty, crackling cheese crown and sidewalls of Detroit style pizza—offered here in a version developed by Anthony Falco, who launched his career as an “international pizza consultant” after a reputation-making decade at Roberta’s in Brooklyn.
Service with all the zip of the Strip
Whether you’re hungry for cheesiness in the form of naughty Vegas camp or of Italian-American cuisine, Superfrico satisfies. On that first front, this madcap eatery marks the culinary debut of Spiegelworld, the creative brain trust best known for producing winkingly raunchy stage revues, including Opium, which plays in a showroom adjacent to Superfrico at the Cosmopolitan hotel. Accordingly, dinner is generously garnished with impromptu tableside hijinks. Gender fluid jugglers, bartop dancers, and a Muppetesque furry twerker are among the welcome interruptions that spice up a meal here.
The pizzas and the cheeses
On the culinary side, Superfrico’s namesake provides toothsome fortification around the fluffy cloud-soft interiors of Falco’s Motor City squares, Detroit style pizza. One option comes topped with nduja, pepperoni, pickled chile and honey, another with skirt steak, salsa verde and jalapeno-pineapple salsa. A 180-degree turn from those tongue-punching flavor bombs, which incorporate cheddar and parmesan in their frico, is the delicate, nuanced pizza de résistance: Its focaccia-like crust is brushed with pistachio pesto, then lavished with paper-thin folds of mortadella, dolloped with creamy stracciatella and showered in green with crushed pistachios. Simultaneously subtle and rich, with multiple textures in every bite, it points to Executive Chef Mitch Emge’s attention to detail in both flavors and presentation.
That stracciatella, along with the mozzarella used on all of the pizzas and a number of other menu items (including an exemplary chicken parm, with ponzu marinated poultry and a mix of sourdough and panko in the coating) is prepared fresh daily from about 60 pounds of cow milk curds.
The stracciatela and mozzarella are made freshly in house for use on the pizza. The mozzarella is paddle-stretched each morning, then placed in Pullman loaf pans to form bricks that are perfectly shaped for slicing atop the square crusts. To make the Stracciatella, curds are pulled into long, fine strands, then chopped and soaked in heavy cream (Emge prefers Straus Organic).
Mozzarella made to order
But a stash of curds is always held in reserve for diners who order the dish that most embodies the spirit of Superfrico: It’s the cheesiest performance in Las Vegas, literally. On a small cart that’s been wheeled up to the table, a server pours 200 degree water into a bowl containing a full pound of curds. They then plunge their hands—protected by heat resistant gloves—into the morass to form a single gleaming mozzarella sphere. Aided by a wooden paddle they then repeatedly stretch the the ball upward, trailing a 2-3 foot ribbon of lactic lusciousness. After about five minutes of folderol, the warm, enormous cheese is sliced and served with an array of accompaniments, more than enough for a party of four. Sure, there’s fried mozz on the menu, too, but this is the mozzarella schtick you’ll write home about.
“There’s lots of tableside presentation going on in Las Vegas,” says Emge, acknowledging this showy city’s penchant for flaming desserts, carving boards, roving guacamole carts and up-close-and-personal Caesar salad prep, “But nobody else is doing this in town.” He points out that offering tableside mozzarella pulling requires some unusual skills from a restaurant’s service staff. “It can be intimidating. The whole presentation-making the cheese and serving it-takes about eight minutes,” he explains, “That’s a lot of engagement.” Staffers need to be prepared to interact and answer diners’ questions throughout. “Only two of my runners are comfortable doing it,” Emge confides.
Tableside cheese from Coast to Coast
That’s undoubtedly part of why, nationwide, there are very few restaurants promoting this stretchy spectacle. Among them are Giulia in Minneapolis, where it’s a Thursday night special; Rocca in Tampa; and Trattoria Seneca in San Diego, which is also home to the A Mano Artisan Cheese Company, which sends a roving mozzarella bar with pulling demos to private parties.
And then there’s Café 2825, famous not just for mozzarella pulling, but also tableside cacio e pepe pasta prepared inside a partially hollowed wheel of pecorino, its inner walls torched tableside to produce molten cheese for the sauce. It happens to be located just a few blocks from Caesars Atlantic City casino, where, late this year, a second Superfrico is scheduled to make its debut.
Are we on the brink of a next-level Jersey Shore Cheese War? It’s a mouthwatering prospect—no matter whose mozzarella you’re pulling for.
