The Italian Market Bible

The Italian Market  / Photograph by R. Kennedy for Visit Philly

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I was four and a half years old, in kindergarten in Dunmore, Pennsylvania, when I first fell in love with the Italian Market. It was the day my father drove 240 miles round trip to get a pig for my little brother’s christening. Because you can never go too overboard in an Italian Catholic family when a son, the Savior, is born. I have an all-too-vivid memory of Dad returning from his road trip and popping the trunk of the Lincoln Continental in the driveway and … holy shit! He really did drive to Philly for a pig! It was big and bronze and glistening, with an apple in its mouth. It had eyes and pointy ears and even a little curly tail. It should have grossed me out. It didn’t. It was glorious!

And that’s the thing about the Italian Market. You can still get a pig. At Cannuli’s, where old man Charlie Cannuli (who sold lots of them to my father in the ’60s and ’70s; after all, there were Holy Communions and confirmations and graduations, too) at 92 still rules over the roasting of the pigs. These days, they are more likely to have baseballs in their mouths because, somewhere along the way, the visiting teams that play the Phillies learned about this pig thing and started ordering them for their clubhouses.

And that’s the other thing about the Italian Market: It’s such a Philly thing.

It’s the oldest open-air market in the country. And if you’re a local and don’t shop there, you should be ashamed of yourself. Where else can you find, within a few city blocks, a motherlode of fresh produce vendors, expert cheese mongers, cheeky Italian butchers, seafood purveyors, bakeries, a real kitchen store (not Williams Sonoma), coffee shops with gelati and affogato, even an olive oil emporium? And lots of kitschy stuff, too, in case you want a “Park Here and I’ll Break Your Knees” sign, because when in Rome.

It was started in the late 1880s when an immigrant from southern Italy opened a boarding house on 9th Street for his paisanos coming off the boat. Soon, food stalls and push carts appeared to cater to this new famiglia, and the Italian Market was born.

But it didn’t achieve worldwide fame until 1976 when honorary Philly boy Sylvester Stallone debuted Rocky. The second most iconic scene of the movie — the first being Stallone running up the Art Museum steps — was Rocky running through the Italian Market. Past all of the produce vendors under the awning-lined street, past the fires in big, black-barreled trash cans. Fun fact about the fires, which are lit to warm vendors’ hands in the wintertime: In 1990, then-Mayor Wilson Goode — already infamous for having bombed an entire city neighborhood, during the MOVE confrontation of 1985 — banned them, citing (ahem) fire hazards. This did not go over well. The locals’ reaction? What a stunad! City Council, propelled by a revolt by the Italians (and trust us, no one revolts quite like South Philly Italians) got the whole stunad thing overturned. For good. Today, barrel fires are legal in Philadelphia but only on 9th Street in the Italian Market.

Like I said, a Philly thing.

Here’s how to do it up right.

First, Mangiamo!

Linguine Abbruzzi at Villa di Roma / Photograph by Jason Varney

It is impossible to get a bad meal in the Italian Market, starting with the Holy Trinity, the red-gravy joints that are the backbone of the neighborhood: Ralph’s, Villa di Roma, and Dante & Luigi’s. I’m a Ralph’s girl myself. I adore the tin-ceilinged street-level dining room; the consistently excellent old-school dishes, from veal parm to calamari with linguine (order it fra diavolo); and the love that Jimmy Rubino, fourth-generation proprietor, and his staff lavish on everything and everyone. Those recipes? Untouched in 126 years. There’s a reason it’s the oldest Italian restaurant in the country. Because, as they say in the Italian Market, don’t fuck with it.

Same with Villa di Roma. Nothing changes. Including the hankerings I get for a big bowl of their mussels (fra diavolo, of course) and their divine breaded, fried asparagus in a scampi sauce, the most joint-y atmosphere of the three (love the menu board), and owner, Pip, who is a pip.

And can I mention Dante & Luigi’s without the mentioning the mob hit? I cannot. So: It was a marvelous Halloween night in 1989 when a guy in a Batman mask opened fire on a corner table. Only in Philly does a mobster get shot nine times and live. When I asked the late, great mob lawyer Bobby Simone how his client, Nicky Scarfo Jr. was doing, he said, “Eh, he’s fine. Has a hard time drinking water, but he’s fine.” And who was that masked man, what the waiters call “the worst-kept secret in Philadelphia”? We’re certainly not saying, since he’s out of jail now (not for this!) and running a cheesesteak shop, and the cheesesteaks are great! Last time I was at Dante & Luigi’s, the alleged assassin had been there the night before, seated next to the same table where he allegedly ambushed Nicky. Allegedly. And hey, everyone knows that the food is great because alleged people only dine at great Italian restaurants. (You might also try the fabulous Saloon, a few blocks from the Market and not a joint, but a joint, if you know what I mean.)

Even so, a couple of things have happened to make the Italian Market restaurant scene even more exciting in recent years. The first was the Mexicans. Yes, the Italians welcomed Mexicans in with open mitts and will tell you it’s the best thing that ever happened. The Market was invigorated (not least by James Beard-winner Cristina Martinez, who brought her amazing South Philly Barbacoa and fresh crowds to the street). Change was embraced, and everyone benefited. Just ask the owner of Blue Corn, who says they really are like one big happy family, and I believe him. I also adore his restaurant. It’s the real deal. I get cravings in the middle of the night for what they do to their whole branzino and their birria on round crispy corn shells, which is usually a special and should be on the regular menu. Go there.

The other big change was the invasion of places old Italians might call “too fancy”, but OMG, these new(er) restaurants are amazing. I credit Marc Vetri, the genius Marc Vetri, for instigating this sea change when he bought the old Fiorella sausage shop. When that placed closed in 2018, the Market was in mourning (and no one mourns as morosely as Italians), but then, a miracle! Vetri, one of the best Italian chefs in the world, snapped it up. He kept the old brass cash register, the pig on the outside brick wall, and most importantly, the sausage recipe. Vetri’s Fiorella’s has the most ethereal pasta found outside of Cucina Vetri, his original very fancy venue, at a relative steal. (And where does Vetri go to eat in the Market? “Ralph’s!”)

Half a block away, there is the James Beard darling, Cambodian restaurant Mawn, beloved by no less than The New York Times. (Good luck getting a res; try a walk-in lunch Thursdays through Saturdays — but you gotta line up outside at 10:30 a.m. Or earlier.) And Alice, on the corner of 9th and Christian, is my new favorite restaurant. It’s the kind of place that could easily be pretentious, but it’s not. The vibe is so welcoming and casual (I like that the hostess wears jeans), the waiters are impeccably skilled yet humble, and the food is off the charts. Last time I was there, our adorable waiter Jamie perfectly curated our meal (the menu is one short list without categories; okay, pretentious), delivering it in an order I’d have never picked myself, and it was perfect. Starting with a steak tartare with shiitakes I’m still salivating over, paired with a coal-roasted octopus with green chile and preserved lemons — exquisitely tender, and a great departure from the typical Greek-style octopus (which I could eat every day, but this, this one is special). Somewhere in the middle were heavenly grilled prawns with saffron and purslane. And the finale was asparagus (again, the coal-roasting) and French fries. Followed by coconut sorbet. How Jamie knew to do this I’ll never know.

The Produce Stands

Shopping for produce in the Italian Market / Photograph by K. Kelly for Visit Philly

It is true that the prices are incredible. It is also true that your stuff won’t last for days. But you’re a grown-up; plan accordingly. The produce stands are all on the east side of 9th Street, under awnings that span about three blocks. Walk them, check everything out (prices and quality can vary wildly), then walk back and buy things. If you’re pressed for time, the guy in front of Esposito’s at 9th and Carpenter has a huge selection and it’s great quality. Bring cash! It is the place to find heaps of Philly’s famous and fabulous long hots. But one day I was looking for a poblano pepper. One. The guy handed me a bushel and charged me a buck. Okay, so I was handing out poblanos in my apartment lobby and looking up recipes in my Mexican cookbooks, but that’s the spirit of the Market. Have fun with it.

Now, the secret — a hidden produce place where Philly’s restaurateurs get their good stuff: Michael Anastasio’s at 911 Christian. The windows are covered in metal and the door is usually closed. It’s like a speakeasy. You knock, someone opens it and grunts, you tell him what you want, and he gets it for you. Trust me: The vendors on the sidewalk do not sell frisée and chanterelles, and sometimes you just need those things.

Alas, it is impossible to leave the produce section without stopping to light a candle for the dearly departed Giordano’s. For 105 years (105 years!), it was the mainstay of the Market, overflowing with produce under a century-old faded awning at the corner of 9th and Washington. The family tried desperately to keep it going, but things had changed. The foot traffic wasn’t what it used to be: “People are using DoorDash and whatever else” (Ugh. DoorDash.), as one of the sons, who started working there when he was “five or six,” told us at the bitter end. I still haven’t figured out where I will get my Easter flowers and my fresh herb plants every spring without leaving the city. (No, I will not buy them at Home Depot.)  But we gotta have hope. Because for every shuttered place, there’s an Alice.

What will come of the now-shuttered building? Hold on …

Did Someone Say Fish Monger?

Anastasi’s in the Italian Market / Photograph by R. Kennedy for Visit Philly

That was the last kick in the teeth, when Anastasi’s, the glorious fish market on the opposite corner of 9th and Washington, got kicked out of their sprawling place because some New York developer bought the property. (Say “New York City developer” on 9th Street at your own peril.) Oh, they promised all sorts of things. Apartments! Parking! Retail! But so far … crickets. They even promised to bring Anastasi “back into the fold” when things were up and running again. “That was a lot of talk,” shrugs Janet Anastasi Stechman, who runs Anastasi’s with her brother Sal. And yes, it is still there, thank the Lord. It is now crammed into a sliver of a place down the block, but did those New York developers think they could kill them? Ha!

I couldn’t live without this place. It’s where I go for my hard-shell crabs, what I’d choose on death row for my last meal. When I’m feeling adventurous, I buy them out of the bushel (I do make them clean them for me) and go home and make crabs and macaroni, the first recipe a Philly Italian girl must master. Or, I have them steam them for me with “the works.” Trust me on this. Once I bought eight whole cleaned branzini to roast for a dinner party and lemme tell you, that fish was magnificent. (It’s really not hard to make, by the way.) And their littleneck clams are as fresh as they get.

It should be noted that the sliver of a shop is right next to the old Giordano’s, which was not sold to a New York Developer, but to “some Chinese guy,” as the locals I spoke to put it. And if he is reading this, please call Anastasi’s. Sal and Albert (he runs the takeout kitchen) would like to rent your sidewalk, to put tables out on the corner. And they sweep your sidewalks every single day. Because that’s how they roll in the Market.

The Butchers

Cappuccio’s Meats / Photograph by R. Kennedy for Visit Philly

Oh, they are all wonderful. You can find any cut imaginable, they give cooking pointers if you ask nicely, and they all have incredible daily sales. I hit Esposito’s, the big one on the corner, for their homemade braciole (mine is better, but it’s a pain in the ass to make), seasoned porchettas, broccoli rabe and provolone sausage, and, oddly enough, fresh jumbo shrimp at great prices. Cappuccio’s, the little one on the corner, has some incredible sausages and custom cuts of meat (rib eyes to ostrich), and know what traditional Italian dishes require. Very nice people.

But, of course, my favorite is Cannuli’s, and not just because my dad went there. It still has the original sawdust floors (be still my heart) and the original attitude. I love the old-man butchers. You want a smaller roast? They’ll cut that one in half. You want pancetta to make pea soup? “Eh! You don’t want pancetta! You want these!” And he hands you a bag of fat bacon ends for two bucks, and he is correct. “Best pea soup I ever made,” you tell him. “I know,” he replies.

Cheese Shops

Claudio’s / Photograph by Theresa Regan

There’s Claudio’s and DiBruno’s, next door to each other. It used to be a contest. Sadly, not so much now; Claudio’s wins. One store, never changes. Same group of reliably snarly dudes behind the counter but they will smile when you tell them, “Listen, dude, I’m not a tourist and take your thumb off the scale.” The selection is magnificent (want something strange and French? they got it), their homemade mozzarella and ricotta are divine, and they have every olive imaginable plus a sign that says “Shoplifting can get you killed.” Don’t leave without the marinated sun-dried tomatoes.

More Italian Market Gems

Anthony’s in the Italian Market / Photograph by K. Kelly for Visit Philly

Fante’s
One of the last great independent kitchen stores with gadgets and pasta-making accoutrements from Italy. Wonderful people.

Cardena’s
An olive-oil and vinegar emporium. The blood orange olive oil and fig balsamic are my favorites.

Melmo’s
A dog treat store! New and adorable. And there’s an indoor gated section where you can park your dog for a small fee while shopping or dining out.

Paesano’s
Spectacular sandwiches. The roast pork with broccoli rabe, sharp provolone, and long hots on their own semolina roll is my favorite. But they’re all really great, and mammoth. They also make gluten-free rolls. And you can dine inside.

Anthony’s
A coffee shop with excellent espresso drinks and affogatos. They make their own gelato and sfogliatelle.

Talluto’s
A homemade pasta shop. Whatever shape and flavor you want, freshly cut. They have excellent manicotti (just don’t call it “manny-cotty”) and ricotta cavatelli (so good that Ralph’s buys it). They also sell a terrific Italian hoagie for under 10 bucks. And if you’re not in the mood for the ’tude at Claudio’s, they make excellent homemade ricotta and mozzarella, and their sharp provolone is divine.

Sarcone’s
One of the last truly great Italian bread bakeries. Oh, the smell from the sidewalk. They sell out early.

Isgro’s
Before you head home, stop here at 1009 Christian for delicious cannoli (they fill them while you wait). Or pick up a tiramisu cake and some pizzelles.

Angelo’s
One of the best cheesesteaks in town, at the northern edge of the Market.

But About That Blessed Virgin Mary …

South 9th Street Italian Market Festival / Photograph by Hope Daluisio for Visit Philly

I wish I could convince 9th Street to not do their Italian Market Festival just once a year, as they do every May. I love it. I cry when the saints are carried on stretchers down 9th Street to trumpet music, with ribbons hanging from them upon which people can pin money. (Just go with it.) It is also the scene of the famous Grease Pole activity whereby wiry young folks climb up a street pole greased with Crisco, and if they make it to the top — it is not easy — they get … wait for it … a salami.

Italians!

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Published (abridged) as “The Italian Market Bible” in the July 2026 issue of Philadelphia magazine.