IF THE MOZZA CORNER LASTS FOR A THOUSAND YEARS, PEOPLE WILL STILL SAY: "THIS WAS THEIR FINEST HOUR"

it wasn’t until Irene appeared at the window that the beauty - and importance - of what Mozza was doing really hit home here at Highland and Melrose. Perhaps we had been so busy to fully appreciate how appreciative people were of what the Corner meant during these times.

For four tense days, at a makeshift walk-up ordering window at Chi Spacca, hundreds of laid off restaurant workers had “ordered” two hot entrees - usually roast chicken thighs and/or vegetarian lasagna - and picked out some supplies - such as a box of cereal or mac n cheese, toilet paper or hand soap - then thanked chef/owner Nancy Silverton and the Mozza staff and moved on. Roughly 150 people a night were coming by as part of the Nancy Silverton/ Maker’s Mark Whiskey collaboration known as the Restaurant Workers Relief program.

Then, on Day 4, Sunday night, Irene showed up. She was a pretty, long-haired Asian American who had been laid off and was - like almost everyone else - quite thankful for the food and supplies we gave her with a decent amount - but not overly so - of good cheer. But, then she shifted gears like that Ford GT40 down the Mulsanne straight in “Ford vs. Ferrari”..

“I don’t think you realize what this means to us,” Irene said. “That you care. I want to contribute.” She had been talking in a controlled, but passionate tone. But, then her voice cracked as she add “Can i bring I contribute something, Can I bring some rolls of toilet paper?” And she burst into tears. She, like Bruce Springsteen sings, “burst just like a super nova”. The cardboard menu Irene was holding was dotted with her tear drops.

Before her, at the window. Francis Sebastian, the Chi Spacca general manager and a member of the Mozza Corner Special Forces, started to drop his own tears. Tough guys weeping is kinda special. Alan Birnbaum, Pizzeria and Osteria Mozza GM, Ping Pong Room and Apartment cleaner and also a Special Ops member, was, uncharacteristically, unable to speak. Nancy standing 10 feet away and watching, got misty-eyed and smiled a rather sad smile. Jimmy Dolan, the Mozza Tribune staff writer, standing nearest to Irene, violated social distancing, and reached out to touch her shoulder as tender as he is capable of, which isn’t particularly tender.

“Irene has become a symbol for us," said Nancy who took a rare night off yesterday to rest after a week of 13 hour days. “She came to represent the gratefulness of the community. That the food and supplies are appreciated and needed, but even more so. knowing that people care about them. That’s the most beautiful thing when you’re struggling. That people you don;t even really know care about you. The lasagna will feed you that night, but knowing you’re cared about can get you through the day.”

Since that Sunday, we’ve been waiting for Irene to reappear. We told her to come back every night. But, we haven’t seen her. Francis and I weren’t there very much Friday night, so maybe she came by and the people filling in didn’t know her. So, Irene, if you happen to read this, reach out with a text to the Mozza Tribune. (213) 700-1960.

The Mozza Corner has had many glorious - and some scary - moments. There was the time, before Pizzeria Mozza had even opened when legendary pizzaiola Chris Bianco blessed the oven. There was the night, thanks to copy editor Saji Mathai, we got early word that L.A. Times restaurant critic S.I. Virbila had awarded three stars to the Pizzeria. The day in 2009 or so when Osteria got a Michelin star. The first night Michelle Obama came in with her kids - and secret service agents. There was the day a speeding pickup truck slammed into the front doors of Osteria. The night when word came to the kitchen that Nancy had been named Outstanding Chef in America at the James Beard Award. The day Dario Cecchini told the story of his first bistecca Fiorentina The night we got word Tony the cleaner from Nine-O Crips was gonna do a take over robbery because he was pissed he got fired. The night Stringer Bell aka Idris Alba, had a drink with Nancy and Michael, And then there was those cherished “Shift Drinks”, the end of shift drink, after 13 years, over 4,800 of them.

But, looking back over the last 13 years, four months, two weeks since Mozza opened, there was never a finer moment than the night when Irene cried.

Just in case you are too young - and/or dumb - the headline is riffed from Winston Churchill rallying the British in 1940. His speech went like this.

“….the Battle of Britain is about to begin. Upon this battle depends the survival of Christian civilisation. Upon it depends our own British life, and the long continuity of our institutions and our Empire. The whole fury and might of the enemy must very soon be turned on us. Hitler knows that he will have to break us in this island or lose the war. If we can stand up to him, all Europe may be freed and the life of the world may move forward into broad, sunlit uplands. But if we fail, then the whole world, including the United States, including all that we have known and cared for, will sink into the abyss of a new Dark Age made more sinister, and perhaps more protracted, by the lights of perverted science. Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duty and so bear ourselves that, if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will still say: This was their finest hour.”