When it comes to approaching change, prioritizing tradition in the technique seems key: “These days, there are machines for everything,” says Illardi. “But with bread, especially real artisan breads, it will always be better handmade. You need to do it, from start to finish, by hand.” It’s a balancing act that every old-school shop is navigating: keep the core intact while adjusting to a Brooklyn that no longer looks like the one they grew up in.
Walk into Caputo’s Fine Foods, just a few blocks away—opened in 1973 by Sicilian immigrant Giuseppe Caputo and his wife Flora—and you’ll see this play out. Learning from their father, who’s still involved, a third generation now runs the show: brothers Franco and Joseph Caputo, who took over in 2021 after leaving law school and business internships behind to return during the pandemic.
“It was a feeling of nostalgia, wanting to move back, work at the store and take over,” [Joseph] Caputo says. “But our number one question was: How can we modernize the store, bring in new customers, and keep it clean—without ever really losing that ‘it’s been here for 50 years feel’?”
Since, Caputo’s has been subtly renovated and restored with this balanced approach. First, by exposing the original brick, then lowering the ceiling-high old-wire racks to make the brick visible; and opting for a felt-board pin sign the menu. Most recently, they changed the pendant lighting to recreate what it once was: a green aluminum lighting fixture that Joseph found in a vintage shop.
“We know what the store had when we were kids. Little by little, we’re trying to bring that back,” says Caputo. “You really wouldn’t notice the difference—but it’s all how all of these details add up.” And when it comes down to the goods? Caputo’s is the spot for mouth-watering mortadella, arancini balls, and of course, fresher-than-fresh mozzarella. Known for making some of the best mozzarella in the city, the new-age Caputo brothers learned from generations of mozzarella makers. “As young as I could remember, I was taught to know the feel of how mozzarella should be,” says Caputo. “We know what we’re looking for now, because it’s true to our nature—and somehow it ends up on all of these lists for the best mozzarella in the city.”
According to Caputo, thriving as a business in tougher-than-nails Brooklyn is about actually wanting to be a part of the community. “You gotta understand—the community wants you there and they don’t want you to change much; so in order to change—you still need to fit in. All of the old-school Italians that come in—we want to make sure they don’t feel alienated; and that everyone in the neighborhood is happy to chat with us or even try something new,” says Caputo. “I don’t see the generations that have been coming here stopping anytime soon—we’re still their neighborhood spot even if they moved out of Brooklyn years ago.”
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You can’t fake prosciutto bread baked on site all day. You can’t automate mozzarella pulled by hand. You can’t mass-produce the feeling of walking into a place where your parents and grandparents ordered the same sandwich you’re about to eat. People notice, and they return. “We have customers who come back every single holiday, even if they moved,” says Illardi. “They want the taste they remember.”
