At Mozza, it’s what the locals do

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Amid the clatter and frenzy Saturday night at Pizzeria Mozza sat our small dish of mussels, guarded by our party of three as if it were water from the fountain of youth. The shells sat empty, scattered around the perimeter of the flat bowl that still had plenty of the garlic-crazed broth they were cooked in.

It was our waiter who told us not to let the busboys take it away. “Dunk your pizza crusts in it,” he said. “It’s what all the locals do.” I can’t be certain, but it seemed as though we tore through the Gorgonzola, rosemary, potato pizza, the prosciutto and arugula pizza and the mushroom and cheese pizza with the sole purpose of getting our crusts into that broth. That night, we were all locals.

— Tenny Tatusian