Plus, there’s a hominess that makes the place appealing, regardless of how purely inexpensive it is. ![]() “Living in the Valley with a young family, price is always a consideration,” Kim adds. It’s a hectic dance for first-timers who may not know the lay of the land, but that’s also part of what makes Pinocchio feel so delightfully antiquated, even for the value-loving Valley. Order too much (it’s easy to do) and a second tray appears out of nowhere, ready for that extra meatball sub or those olive oil-soaked artichokes. A pale pink cafeteria tray appears, and the piling on begins. Lines of locals tend to form easily at the start of the steam-table area, where diners queue up and wait for an employee to start asking what they can grab. “I can imagine having an Italian grandmother when I’m there.” How about a slice of lasagna, a heaping tray of garlic bread, fettuccine alfredo, and a platter of chicken parm? That’s easy - and inexpensive, two key factors that have kept Pinocchio and Monte Carlo in business for so many years. Want four giant meatballs, a pound of spaghetti with red sauce, three large cannolis, and a chopped salad? Coming right up. The food is either presented up front in cafeteria-style hotel pans, or finished in the back in a tiny a la minute kitchen. To the left is Pinocchio, a red-sauce wonderland built in 1971 where nearly every Italian-American classic is available from one hand-painted menu board. To the right is the deli and marketplace, stocked near to the ceiling with cans and boxes and plastic containers, plus a few bartop tables up front for folks snacking on deli goods in the sunshine. When entering from the front on Magnolia Boulevard, the two businesses are essentially indistinguishable, separated in name only (unless you count the gelato cooler). If anything, saying that Pinocchio is “attached” to the Monte Carlo Italian Deli doesn’t do the long building justice. A wholesale baking operation was added in subsequent years to the back of the property, and still supplies the deli and attached restaurant, Pinocchio. Yugoslavian-born owner Mark Brankovich, who died in 2001, bought the already-in-operation Monte Carlo as a standalone deli back in 1969, slowly expanding the business over the years to include an even wider array of Italian sweets, sauces, dried pastas, and cold-case deli meats and salads. ![]() ![]() Together, Monte Carlo and Pinocchio date back some 50-plus years, though there have been several ebbs and flows in the space, design, and menus over the years. ![]() That’s a good thing for the city’s many price-conscious, history-loving, flavor-chasing diners, who flock by the hundreds to enduring legends like Burbank staple Monte Carlo Italian Deli and the attached dining room and steam table setup known simply as Pinocchio Restaurant. Whole decades have a way of coming and going in the Valley, too restaurants often get years to grow slowly in communities like Burbank and Northridge, a retail feat that simply seems impossible in the many high-turnover neighborhoods on the other side of the hill.ĭespite the direct proximity to places like Hollywood, the Valley can often feel - at least at the restaurant level - like a world away. Single-family homes and multiple-car driveways stretch out on wide, busy boulevards and in rolling communities and side streets lined by big green lawns. Space and time seem to stretch out in the San Fernando Valley area of Los Angeles.
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