MUMMUCC'

Hanging out at grandmas has never been this much fun.

Here’s a business idea. Open a pizzeria so damn good that even two years later there’s a queue for tables on weeknights. Then, launch a cosy bar three doors down where you can send those waiting patrons to be plied with drinks and small plates. What if they like it so much at the bar they want to stay? No problem, they can order the other venue’s pizza to be brought over. Foolproof. Oh wait, this is exactly what Tania Nicolo and Ryan Bookless, the power duo behind Wembley’s runaway smash-hit pizza joint Monsterella, have gone and done.

Please put your hands together for Mummucc’, the new 60-seat wine bar mere meters away. You’d be forgiven for thinking that the name of this venue is another cute mispronunciation from the couple’s daughter Mia (Monsterella was so-named for her attempts at “mozzarella”), but you’d be wrong. Mummucc’ is actually the word “mother” in Abruzzese and was what people would call Nicolo’s grandmother, who was an Italian market gardener in the Wembley area in days long past.

So what’s the deal? Mummucc’ is far from a glorified waiting room – it breathes its own charm, distinct from the Monsterella mothership. The fit-out is minimal but homely. Cerulean fabric banquette seating lines one wall and curls around into a semicircular nook, perfect for date night. Uplights behind the banquettes throw a soft mood towards the ceiling. At the end of the bar there is a little deli display fridge, stocked with antipasto meats that come sliced to order courtesy of the commercial meat slicer on the counter behind. But my favourite touch? The big timber dining table dominating the front area, presenting endless seating possibilities – hedge your bets that you’ll be squeezed in next to pleasant strangers, or bring a large group and commandeer the whole thing. It feels a little like you’re sipping a Negroni in someone else’s house, especially when you notice the framed black-and-white photo of the original Mummucc’ on the wall, or the sharehouse-esque shelf of empty wine bottles. Cute little lamps on the tables provide mobile mood lighting - and word on the street is these are more designer furniture than IKEA clutter. Outside, a long stone bench runs the length of the shop, interspersed with fixed tables, and presents an attractive option on warmer nights. The word “BAR”, painted in a shadowed, art-deco design by Fremantle letterers Ink and Anchor, keeps watch over al-fresco patrons. Be warned though – the outdoor tables are tiny. You might want to order your food one dish at a time.

“…one that ticks all of the flavour and texture boxes”

Speaking of food, there is of course the option of ordering one or more of Monsterella’s outstanding pizzas. But Mummucc’ brings its own plates to the table – courtesy of a short menu overseen by chef Matt McDonald, who has transitioned across from the pizzeria. Think homely share plates, big on quality and low on cheffy frills. Chicken parfait cannolis ($6 each) were a fun, clever snack; mousse-like parfait filling the crispy pastry tubes. Beautiful, although if you usually just have a little bit smeared on toasted bread, remember that there’s nowhere to hide – this thing is like 85% parfait.  A stonefruit salad with balsamic, mozzarella and hazelnuts ($16) was fresh and balanced; wedges of peach and nectarine, dotted with blobs of creamy mozzarella, on top of a balsamic dressing, scattered with chopped hazelnuts. This is a simple dish, no doubt, but one that ticks all of the flavour and texture boxes – slightly tart slightly sweet fruit, mozzarella bringing that rich mouthfeel, basil leaves providing freshness, acidic vinegar to cut through it all, and of course, the hazelnuts contributing crunchiness to offset the softer ingredients.

On the more substantial half of the menu, your classic French bistro steak tartare ($18) was given the Italian job, with n’duja cream and cured egg yolk mixed through the chopped raw beef; the end result a fiery but lip-smackingly delicious helping of red-raw meat, pinging with flavour and studded with the requisite capers and herbs. Scoop into your mouth with the accompanying potato chips for the authentic bistro experience.

There are two pastas on the menu, with the pasta itself handmade daily by Nicolo’s mother (as she does for Monsterella as well), and being the daughter of grandmother mummucc’, you know it’s the real deal. We opted for the chitarra alla gricia ($24), a moderate-sized bowl of spaghetti chitarra (meaning ‘guitar’ in Italian, named after the machine through which the dough is pushed, creating guitar string-like strands) with guanciale, lardo and pecorino. This was like carbonara on steroids – not least of which because instead of shaved parmesan, the dish was topped with shavings of cured egg yolk. I’ve tried many disappointing carbonara-style pastas in my time but this was phenomenal; the thick pasta was properly al dente, the sauce was creamy without the presence of cream, the guanciale and lardo smoky and salty and fatty and chewy, the cured yolk providing a hint of extra silkiness.

Finally, after moving to sit in the back area for a cosier experience, we ordered the tiramisu, which was about twice the size that our effervescent waitress said it was – but a brilliant rendition nonetheless – what else should you expect from an eatery that is essentially an extension of an Italian’s home?

“…keeping with the Italian aesthetic”

The beverage situation is also in keeping with the Italian aesthetic – think simple aperitifs and digestifs, natural wines and local craft beers.

Mummucc’, perhaps hard to pronounce, is easy to enjoy; an air of thorough unpretension pervades the whole space. Phrases such as “neighbourhood local” and “community feel” stick like glue; but Mummucc’ feels a tad more sophisticated than that. There’s a bit of a recent trend of homely venues popping up around Perth, with a focus on honest, simple food and quality wines, and Mummucc’ possibly heads the table. We’re not complaining.