Friturra di pesce antipasto. Photography by Angel Tucker
The restaurant’s interior. Photography by Angel Tucker
Scotti’s Salumeria is more of an Italian picnic on the main street of East Greenwich. Housed in what used to be Huck’s Filling Station, the restaurant is fundamentally an outdoor space year-round — or at least that’s the aspiration. In warmer months, there’s twice as much seating on the patio as there is indoors: A bar, tables and a collection of couches around fire pits all manifest a casual meal, often under the stars. Even in the winter, owners Marco Scotti, Jeff Quinlan and Ed Brady work with various enclosures to keep the outdoor bar serving year-round.
There is unity between the two halves, though: Both are dressed in red-checked tablecloths, and both embrace a certain level of kitsch in the decor. Outside, a neon hand, fingers pinched, silently extols the virtues of everything Italian. Inside, there are straw-covered Chianti bottles hanging from the ceiling, along with bundles of plastic grapes overhead. There’s a wink and a nod at Scotti’s — sincere in its homage to Italian culture but also aware that its audience is, to an extent, looking through a social or geographic prism.
Cono fritto antipasto. Photography by Angel Tucker
The menu is largely al fresco style — not that you must eat outdoors, but most dishes could be packed up and eaten on the go. Appetizers are often served fried, from calamari and shrimp ($18) to a crunchy combo of vegetarian options ($16). Artichoke hearts, squash blossoms and wedges of molten mozzarella taste like a day at the beach, perched at the snack shack.
Scotti’s focus is largely on focaccia dough, though. While Mother works with a sourdough starter, the dough at Scotti’s is thicker, with a discernable crumb. Paninis ($16) are not the gooey masses that Americans think of but rather meals between thick wedges of bread. Meat dominates more than cheese, whether it’s meatballs, chicken cutlets or sweet sausage.
The DeCarlo foccacia panini. Photography by Angel Tucker
But the Roman pizza — which bears some resemblance to its southern Sicilian cousin — is more about the dough. It’s topped with little more than fresh tomatoes and a mozzarella so silken that it tastes like cream. Pies ($22-$38) come out in their own small sheet pans and, because they’re not baking directly on the oven’s surface, the profile is softer than scorched.
Scotti’s certainly isn’t looking to draw lines in the culinary world; it’s just looking to remind locals that Italian culture is a moveable feast that eschews formality at every stop. An ultra-creamy tiramisu manifests this thinking fully: Served in a squat cup that conjures backyard meals, no one would be surprised if you ordered an extra to eat as you
meander home. Interior seats are few at Scotti’s, but the menu is only a guideline to a life in which Italy is in the heart as much as on the map.
Tiramisu with an espresso martini. Photography by Angel Tucker
Dining and Cooking