There is a yellow-roofed kiosk in Piazza Fremantle that sat empty for years, a space locals walked past that blended into the ambience of our beloved ‘Freo’s’ tapestry. Now it belongs to Morso, a six-sandwich operation run out of a five-minute service window by a chef who has spent the last decade moving through some of Perth’s most demanding kitchens, Jetty, Il Falco, Voi Voi, the Dark Horse Hospitality group, before landing on something delightfully small.
The menu borrows from Naples, Sao Paulo, Seoul and Berlin, held together by one rule: if it tastes good, it goes on the roll. Behind the counter is a chef who also runs Studio Cibo, a private chef business built on in-home meal prep rather than white tablecloths, and who has given Morso a shelf life, at least until the end of the year.
We sat down to talk about mortadella, Anthony Bourdain, 72-hour dough and why an end date just might be the best thing that ever happened to a sandwich menu.
Marcello, we have to start with Jetty. Your food there left a real mark on us, and on plenty of Perth diners. What have you been up to since, and how did that experience shape what you are doing now at Morso?
Thank you, that means a lot. Since Jetty I have just kept building, more kitchens, more lessons, and eventually my own private chef business, Studio Cibo, which is still running today. Jetty is really where it all clicked for me. Miles Hull gave me the freedom to express myself through food, and the whole philosophy there was to underpromise and overdeliver, with great hospitality behind it. That is exactly what I want to bring into Morso, the same freedom to just cook what I think tastes good, the same standard of hospitality, just squeezed into six sandwiches and a five-minute service window instead of a full dinner menu.
You have moved through some serious kitchens, Voi Voi, Il Falco, the Dark Horse Hospitality stable. What did each of those stops teach you that shows up on the menu at Morso today?
My time at Dark Horse, Jetty, Pretty Good Pizza, Subiaco Continental, taught me how to run a kitchen at real volume without losing consistency and quality. At Il Falco and Voi Voi, which were different hospitality models to what I was used to, it was an obsession with a single craft, the dough was fermented 48 plus hours, usually closer to 72. It was also where I really learned how to operate inside very limited back-of-house spaces and still deliver the best food offering possible. That is directly what shows up at Morso, a tiny kitchen, a tight menu, and a discipline for getting the most out of very little room.
Tell us about Studio Cibo. What made you want to build a private chef business alongside everything else, and how does that world of cooking compare to running a kiosk?
Studio Cibo came from spotting a small gap in a little niche market, proper in-home cheffing for private families. Think meal prepping on steroids, done by a real chef, in your own kitchen, without a fixed menu. Most times when people hear “private chef” they picture stuffy candlelit dinners, or bigger catering events, but that is not really it. Studio Cibo is meal prep taken to another level, it is intimate private events for up to twelve people, it is consulting when a project calls for it. Basically, it is every excuse I can find to keep my creativity switched on, try and learn new things and share my love for hospitality. Then there is Morso, which is the complete opposite kind of chaos, pure energy, pure passion for sandwiches, because come on, I am Italian, we do love our paninis. Same obsession with getting it right either way, just a different room, a different pace, and honestly, way more fun with a queue of hungry Freo locals in front of you.
What was it about the Piazza Fremantle space, and that yellow-roofed kiosk specifically, that made you jump on the lease so quickly?
A friend sent me the Instagram post that SPACEMRKT put up showing the kiosk was available. I sat with it for a few minutes, realised I had nothing to lose, and messaged them. A couple of weeks later I met with Sarah Boots and we clicked straight away, she showed me around and walked me through the vision, the bigger picture Bronwyn Owen, the landlord, has for the whole precinct. What really got me was the sense of community and the chance to be one of the first operators helping bring Piazza back to life. When I first moved to Australia I used to hang around that space, and it always made me sad seeing it sit empty, treated carelessly and left to go to waste. Getting to be part of turning that around, and actually doing something cool with it, is not an opportunity that comes along often.
Your sandwiches pull from everywhere, Naples to Sao Paulo to Seoul to Berlin. How do you decide when an idea belongs on the menu versus when it is trying too hard?
There is really one rule at Morso, there are no rules. I want to be as creative as possible and surprise people with combinations that might not seem like they belong between two slices of bread but, as I like to say, if it slaps hard, there is no way I am missing the chance to let people try it. Naples, Sao Paulo, Seoul, Berlin, wherever an idea comes from, it does not matter, as long as it tastes incredible. What matters more is execution, can it hold up during a busy service, and does it actually work on our tiger roll or our shokupan. If both of those line up, it is a no-brainer, straight on the menu.
The mortadella sandwich nods to Anthony Bourdain and Bar do Mane. What is it about that particular sandwich that stuck with you enough to build your own version?
It is a bit of a silly answer, I have just always been a huge fan of mortadella, sliced thin and stacked generously between two slices of bread. Bourdain felt exactly the same way, the sandwich at Bar do Mane in Sao Paulo is legendary for how outrageously they pile the mortadella on, and he loved it so much he put his own version in Appetites. So when I built mine, naming it after him was an easy call, partly the obvious connection, but really because his books and shows taught me to be unapologetically myself when I cook. I think Morso carries a lot of that same spirit.
Six rolls, chef led, small by design. Did thishappen naturally given the kiosk format?
Honestly, it was both. I did not want a big menu offering the same thing everyone else already does, I wanted something small, slightly unique, quick and easy to execute during a busy service. On top of that, the kiosk is incredibly limited in space, so I had to be creative and smart just to build an assembly line that actually works. Luckily I have a small, fully fitted production kitchen located just a few metres from the kiosk, which allows me to do all the preparation and develop new recipes.
You mentioned expanding into slow-cooked meats down the track. What else is on your mind for where Morso goes from here, coffee, tea, sweets included?
There is a lot we want to do. First up, weekly specials, that is where the slow-cooked meats come in, and it lets us fine-tune the menu week by week. As a matter of fact, this weekend we are launching our first one, a slow-cooked lamb shoulder with smoked scamorza, truffle aioli and guindilla peppers. Then there is the sweets program, a couple of extra house-made doughnuts, some cookies, and I would love to get some tarts in there too. Coffee-wise, our beans come from Micrology in Osborne Park, and even though we are working with just a drip machine, I am not letting that limit the creativity. Inspired by the Vietnamese coffee scene, we are building a small but mighty hot and cold program with foams and some interesting flavour pairings. And once the hot season kicks in, we will have a housemade iced tea blend on the menu too.
Morso comes with a countdown, at least until the end of the year. How does knowing there is an end date change the way you are approaching the menu and the experience day to day?
If anything, having an end date pushes me forward, not back. I see it as a real opportunity to make sure Morso goes well, finds its feet properly, and tests whether the concept is sustainable before evolving it into something bigger. In the months ahead, I want to bring as much fun and energy into it as I can, inviting friends and other chefs in to collaborate, while keeping a clear eye on the bigger picture I am building towards. Studio Cibo is still running alongside it and evolving too, so there is a lot happening behind the scenes right now, and hopefully sooner rather than later I will be able to announce more.
What is your honest read on where Perth’s sandwich and continental scene sits right now, and what would you like to see more of?
I think Perth’s sandwich and continental scene is in a really good place right now, there are some genuinely great sandwiches being made across this city, and traditional versions done properly will always have my heart. I would love to see more operators being brave enough to push past that and have real fun with ingredients, mixing things up, taking a few risks, surprising people. There is so much room to grow, and honestly, I cannot wait to see where the next couple of years take this scene. I feel lucky to be part of it.