How Paffuto Is Reimagining a Classic South Jersey Dish

Paffuto panzerotti / Photograph by Mike Prince

Welcome to Just One Dish, a Foobooz series that looks at an outstanding item on a Philly restaurant’s menu — the story behind the dish, how it’s made, and why you should be going out of your way to try it.

For diehard panzerotti fans, there’s one name that has dominated the game for over 60 years: Tarantini. The deep-fried pockets of pizza dough stuffed with mozzarella, sauce and other fillings were originally introduced to South Jersey by Italian immigrants Paolina and Leopoldo Tarantini in 1958. Alongside their children, the two popularized the Tarantini Panzarotti (spelled “panzerotti” in Italian) through The Panzarotti Spot in Camden and food trucks their sons, Vincent and Franco, strategically parked at local high schools during lunchtime in the 1960s. But it wasn’t until the ’70s, when the brothers opened their own restaurants, Vincent’s in Merchantville and Franco’s Place in Westmont, that their legacy was solidified.

That’s right: Panzerotti are a South Jersey thing. Today, you’ll find them in pizza places all over South Jersey and beyond, but chances are, they’re likely coming from the distribution side of Tarantini’s business, where the third and fourth generations of the family now oversee production and distribution. Just like Taylor Ham is synonymous with pork roll, Tarantini is synonymous with panzerotti.

So when I heard Paffuto was selling a dish so embedded in South Jersey’s identity, I was skeptical. Is there room for more? Will they do it well?

Catherine Smith (holding a Tarantini Panzarotti) and Franco Tarantini, the original owner of Franco’s Place in Westmont, New Jersey. / Photograph courtesy of Catherine Smith

My obsession with the calzone-esque pizza pockets started in childhood. While kids in other towns were having pizza parties, my Westmont classroom was having panzerotti parties. On my 13th birthday, a limo drove me and my girlfriends the half-mile from my house to Franco’s. And as part of our Phillies pre-game ritual, my dad and I would stop by Franco’s. As an adult, I still regularly pop into Franco’s before a game (or to take advantage of the $3.47 Monday sale).

Tarantini’s aren’t the only greasy, crispy cheese pockets I’ve had. I once went as far as ordering a panzerotti in Bali simply because it was the first time I had seen it on a menu outside South Jersey. I even traveled to Puglia, Italy, where I connected with some of the Tarantini family’s distant relatives on a quest to get a taste of the original. But neither Bali nor Puglia’s compared to Tarantini’s version – both flavor profiles were a bit too “generic pizza” for me.

Having traveled the globe for panzerotti, I thought, what’s crossing the bridge to see what Paffuto has to offer?

A panzerotti from Il Ritrovo in Puglia, Italy. / Photograph by Catherine Smith

But getting my hands on one of Paffuto’s turned out to be more difficult than I expected. On my first attempt, I arrived to find the shop closed for a special event. On my second, the woman in front of me ordered the last one. (Paffuto makes them fresh each morning.) On my third visit, I was finally able to secure the goods.

A great panzerotti requires certain things. The crispy crust must hold its shape by forming a bubble or shell — it shouldn’t collapse in on itself. The mozzarella should be fully melted so that it blends with the sauce. The sauce needs to be flavorful, but not so much that it overpowers the cheese. And when it’s served, the crust should have tiny bubbles. Paffuto lives up to my high expectations.

Just like at Franco’s, theirs is served in a plastic tray lined with wax paper. The bubbly crust is the same golden brown, but here they add a sprinkling of salt. When picked up, it maintains its structural integrity, holding its shape bite after bite. The fresh and gooey mozzarella was thoroughly melted, but the sauce is different — lighter, accented with just a few chunks of diced tomatoes and a hint of lemon.

Overall, it’s a great panzerotti. It’s the same thing, yet completely different. And that’s exactly what it should be.

The dish dates to the 18th century in southern Italy. Families passed recipes down from generation to generation, developing their variations based on preference and availability of ingredients. The Tarantinis, for instance, switched the ricotta with mozzarella to appease their American customers. And now Paffuto is putting its own Philly twist on the dish.

Tearing into Paffuto’s panzerotti / Photograph by Mike Prince

When researching to create Paffuto’s menu, the three chefs and co-owners — Daniel Griffiths, Jake Loeffler and Sam Kalkut — scoured the region, sampling panzerotti wherever they could find them. They speak highly of Franco’s Place, but say they aren’t trying to compete. Instead, they see the panzerotti as a blank canvas, and they’re taking a lot of creative liberties with the dish. “What we’re making is Italian, but always a little different,” Griffith said.

There’s a breakfast version stuffed with egg and cheese, bacon and ham — a take that I never considered but am thrilled exists. They also invite other chefs to put their spin on the panzerotti. During their recent pop-up with Amy’s Pastelillos, chef Amy Rivera Nassar brought some Puerto Rican flavor to the Italian classic. And when nearby Paesano’s closed for vacation, Paffuto offered a roast pork panzerotti on special as a nod to the neighborhood. “We are trying to make sure we aren’t stepping on any toes,” Griffiths said, explaining Paffuto wants to show respect for longtime neighborhood favorites.

So, is there room for another? Of course.

Tarantini Panzarotti will always serve as my ultimate comfort food, but I’m glad to see Paffuto bring a taste of South Jersey to Philadelphia.

Editor’s note: Franco Tarantini passed away on February 27, 2024, at the age of 81. We are grateful for his contribution to the local food scene and are thankful to the Tarantini family for continuing the “panzarotti” tradition.