OFF THE FRONT PORCH: Y’all Ain’t From Around Here, Are Ya?

Festival Is A Chance To Show Love To Those Who Invest In Us

“You ain’t from around here, are ya, boy?”

That phrase is so often deployed as a stereotypical expression of Southerners’ supposed ingrained suspicion and/or dislike of outsiders. Too often, it is delivered by non-Southerners with an exaggerated accent that falls somewhere on the spectrum between south Texas, middle Mississippi and northern Alabama with just a hint of a Charleston brogue, something of a hybrid between Foghorn Leghorn, Forrest Gump and Bill McKinney’s character in Deliverance.

We native Southerners do tend to be a fiercely proud and at times territorial bunch, leaning hard toward overly protective of our culture and somewhat less-than-welcoming of folks whose roots don’t run generations deep in the Carolina clay. But I, for one, am intensely proud to say that one of the folks whose company I have come to enjoy most since I launched Edgefield County News on Labor Day definitely “ain’t from around here” – and that is a very good thing indeed.

This Saturday, the second annual Edgefield Italian Festival will unfold on the Square in downtown Edgefield, and it is a genuine honor for me to have been asked to serve as the “master of ceremonies” for the day’s activities. I’m not at all Italian; my heritage finds me something of a mutt with a little bit of German, a little bit of Scots-Irish and a hint of Cherokee.

But I’ll happily spend all day and into the night on the microphone here in the “Home of Ten Governors,” celebrating Italian culture not too many steps from that bronze likeness of that quintessential Southern gentleman, that archetypical Edgefieldian, Ol’ Strom. And I will do so at the invitation of my new friend, Nino Colarossi.

Nino is the proprietor of Mario’s Pizzeria on Main Street in Edgefield, a delightful eatery with exposed red brick walls, brick ovens in the kitchen and a profoundly moving tribute to the restaurant’s namesake covering most of one wall. It has quickly become one of my go-to dining choices when I am in Edgefield.

Mario’s is named for Nino’s father, who was born in Pacentro, Italy, but came to America in the 1950s “with no money and nothing but the clothes on his back” in search of a new life, according to a biography printed on the menu. Mr. Colarossi left war-torn Italy and arrived first in Pennsylvania to join his brother, then resettled in Ohio, where he took on backbreaking construction and maintenance work like so many Italian immigrants.

In 1957, he met and fell in love with his future bride, and they soon started a family. A decade later in 1968, according to the biography, Mr. Colarossi would land a job at Anheuser-Busch in Columbus, Ohio. There, the Colarossis would raise their five children to appreciate the work ethic that helped them “make it” in the United States.

Mr. Colarossi worked at Anheuser-Busch until his retirement in 1995. He passed away in 2012.

Almost Like An Immigrant Song

One of those five kids the Colarossis raised is Nino, who sometimes will look wistfully at the wall inside Mario’s and say, “That’s my Pop.” To stop and browse the photographs displayed against the red brick in tribute to the elder Mr. Colarossi and Nino’s mother is to look into the faces of people who truly understood and appreciated the promise of new opportunity in this country.

Everything about the atmosphere at the restaurant that bears Mario Colarossi’s name echoes the immigrant song of those millions who journeyed across the ocean and became working-class Americans by choice and by the sweat of their brow and force of their will. For me, dining at Mario’s always feels like sitting down with extended family, and visiting with Nino is like spending time with a long-lost relative whom I just met.

The menu at Mario’s is rich with options for even the most discerning palate. There are the brick-oven pizzas, of course, piled high with topping and lovingly crafted to perfection. There are pasta dishes drenched in Old World flavor, hearty salads, stacked-high sandwiches and even a STROM-boli, cleverly named with a wink to Mario’s spot here in the land of the venerable if controversial old statesman.

Still, my favorite dish on the menu is an appetizer – the stuffed mushrooms. Large caps filled with a blend of sausage, cheese, onion and garlic, baked and then drizzled with a brown sauce that I probably would drink straight without the ‘shrooms. But then I’d miss that sausage filling, and that just ain’t happening.

I don’t walk into Mario’s for lunch or dinner that I don’t order mushrooms to start and then let my appetite take me from there. As an unrepentant foodie, I tend to plan most of my evenings out and vacations around culinary exploration, around a destination’s dining scene. In all my travels, I cannot recall ever having eaten better stuffed mushrooms anywhere.

Indeed, Mario’s in downtown Edgefield has everything required to make it “destination dining,” the kind of place foodies will drive miles to enjoy: an inviting atmosphere, attentive service, fantastic food and one hell of a beer and wine list and bar. It also has Nino there to welcome you like family.

More foodies far and wide need to be turned onto Mario’s and make the trek to Edgefield for the experience. Just as importantly, more locals need to step up, step out and support this businessman who has decided to invest in our community.

The portrait of the beloved namesake on Mario’s wall

Let’s Be Neighborly, Y’all

If Nino had planted Mario’s in The Alley in Aiken or in up-and-coming Fountain Inn or most any other vibrant small town in South Carolina, I have little doubt it would be one of the hardest tables to get for a nice dinner out on the town. Sadly, there have been times I’ve found myself sitting mostly alone in Mario’s as the dinner hour approached on a Saturday night.

With the spot opened for lunch and dinner on Saturdays and Sundays with a wide selection of cold beer, the best pizzas in town and football on multiple televisions, why isn’t this place packed with dozens of guys and their buddies cheering on the Gamecocks, Tigers or their favorite NFL teams? It’s surely not because of the food or the hospitality; those are both top-shelf at Mario’s.

I don’t want to believe that Edgefield County isn’t filling the seats at Mario’s because Nino and his hardworking crew “ain’t from around here.” I sincerely hope that simply isn’t the Edgefield we are in 2025. There is no place in Edgefield County in the 21st century for cultural “pissing contests.” We should welcome and celebrate diversity from wherever it comes to us.

To continue to grow in our quality of life here in this county, we have to embrace the idea that when entrepreneurs invest in our downtown business districts, we have to show them sustaining love and support. Otherwise, we will continue to languish behind other small towns that have grown vibrant central business districts with an array of specialty shopping opportunities, fascinating places to visit and delightful dining options.

Edgefield has all the ingredients for a robust tourist economy and all that it brings to a community’s tax revenue, but places like Mario’s also need locals to give them their patronage. I have absolutely nothing against ordering a takeout pizza from a national chain and taking it home to binge-watch Netflix, but I’d much rather have stuffed mushrooms and Mario’s Meathead pie.

This weekend’s second Edgefield Italian Festival is a wonderful opportunity to show Nino Colarossi some of our signature Southern hospitality. Two of my dear friends, Mike Anzalone and Dana Begay, will be among the live entertainment coming to Edgefield for the event; I can’t wait to visit with them again. Tim Barnett and accordion master Gene Kirchbaum will round out the entertainment.

There’ll also be bingo – regular AND music bingo – and of course, plenty of fantastic dining selections. This foodie/music lover cannot wait to explore a little bit more of the culture that inspired my name; my Scots-Irish/Cherokee Mama (a native Southerner) was a huge fan of Anthony Dominick Benedetto (aka “Tony Bennett”). That’s why my birth certificate says Tony, not Anthony.

And if you haven’t met him yet, make sure you come out and say “Hey!” to my Italian brother-from-another-mother, Nino Colarossi. I think after a few minutes you’ll come to love him just as much as I do.