Join me in welcoming our first badass in the Badass Women Of Hospitality series, Liza Pulgini! I sat down with her at Mudgie’s in Corktown, to chat about what it takes to run the restaurant and continue the legacy of her late husband and beloved community member, Greg Mudge.
I became familiar with Mudgie’s when it was already a beloved staple, the go-to spot for sandwiches in the city, around 2015 or so. But how did it all begin? What’s the origin story of Mudgie’s?
In the early 2000s, Greg worked at a small deli on the corner called Eph McNally’s. He was one of the only waiters—so much so that regulars came to know him as the waiter. The deli, known for its sandwiches and salads, had a quirky charm and was independently run by a couple of neighborhood guys. It was beloved, lasting a little over a decade, and Greg was there for most of it.
When the owners decided to open a second location downtown next to Grand Trunk, the business became stretched too thin, and they planned to close the Corktown spot. Greg, a lifelong restaurant worker who had never attended culinary school, was at a crossroads. He was taking college courses, considering stepping away from restaurants entirely, and even thinking about a degree in nursing. But when he was offered a position at the new downtown location, he had an aha moment—maybe it was time to open a place of his own.
With little planning, he called the landlord, hoping to take over the space quickly enough to keep vendor relationships and city permits intact. Greg was already well-known in the community, and within a few months, he had taken over the space fully, aptly naming the restaurant after himself. We had been dating for a number of years at that point and he called me up one day and just said, very matter-of-factly — we’re opening a restaurant. By early February 2008, it was open. I was by his side through the entire conception of Mudgie’s but I had my own day job at the time, and I still do in fact.
Holy cow, you’ve had your own career outside of the restaurant industry from the very beginning. What was your day job when Mudgie’s first opened?
Avanti Greeting Cards has been around for decades—it’s another locally owned business, and I’ve been with them all this time. I still love it. Just don’t ask me how I do it all—there aren’t enough hours in the day. I have an art background, so in the early days of Mudgie’s, I helped with graphic design, menus, grassroots marketing, and putting together quick ads for Metro Times. My other big contribution? Keeping Greg from jumping out the window on any given day.
How big of a project was the expansion of Mudgie’s, as it grew to take over the block here, on the street that we’re hoping becomes the future Mudge St.?
Greg grew Mudgie’s from what was once just a single front room—back when it was Eph McNally’s—into the full block-spanning space it became. When the neighboring rental spaces opened up, he took the opportunity to expand, renting both from the same landlord. By 2015, the restaurant had grown to include a bar room, what’s now the wine shop, and that big patio out back.
Then came the pandemic, and like so many restaurants, we had to pivot. From spring 2020 through fall 2021, all business was done outside. Greg passed in September 2021, and at that time, we still weren’t allowing guests inside. The dining room had turned into a makeshift stock room for grocery items for specific time period and also prep space so staff could spread out safely. Undoing all of those pandemic-era adjustments without Greg’s leadership was one of the hardest things we’ve had to do. The whole operation had changed so much. The door by the walk-up window had become central to our carryout setup, with a POS stationed there—smack in the middle of the bar—because we just didn’t know what else to do with it. We became so ingrained in these new work-arounds that we struggled to remember how it was supposed to be.
Oh no, that look on your face tells me that’s not even the toughest part about this era of Mudgie’s. Was there something else that happened?
And then, just when things already felt impossible, a fire hit. In March 2022, a fire started outside and spread to the north end of the building. Thankfully, it didn’t take out the oldest, cutest, pre-1900s cottage portion of Mudgie’s, but the kitchen was gutted—down to the studs. The roof had to be torn off. It was a full-scale rebuild, and the fire restoration process dragged on for months. That entire section of the building was sectioned off for most of 2022—about nine months—which is another reason we kept working around that door right in the middle of everything.
Despite losing so much cooking space and refrigeration, we stayed open. Shutting down wasn’t an option. But the rumors started anyway. People would say, Oh, the owner passed, so we thought you closed. Or, I heard the fire burned the place down. We had to push back against that narrative while still just trying to operate. We proved we were still here, still showing up, still making it work. Could we have done louder, better marketing? Probably. But at the time, we were stretched so thin—doing everything we could just to take care of each other and the community that kept showing up for us.
I used to joke that if I were writing all of this as a story, any good editor would tell me, Absolutely not—there’s way too much going on. Take out the fire bit. That doesn’t happen in real life.
I can’t even imagine. What an absolute whirlwind. You must have had an incredibly solid team to navigate all of that, right?
We absolutely did, and we still do. Post-pandemic, our staff was the smallest it had ever been—just about a dozen people—but they were the core. Longtime, deeply dedicated, and the reason we made it through. I give them 100% of the credit. They had the memories of the way things were pre-pandemic, they knew what needed to be done without Greg, and they fully carried us forward with their experience and instincts. Again, all the credit goes to them. There was some leadership in place, but nothing like what we had when Greg was here, fully hands-on as the sole proprietor. And at that time, I wasn’t able to fully step into that role either.
Even now, that’s something I’m actively working on changing. After Greg died, I tried to keep the status quo as much as possible—holding onto stability wherever I could. I kept my same job of nearly 20 years, stayed in our home, and poured myself into keeping Mudgie’s alive. But I’m not trying to be some hands-off owner thinking the restaurant can run itself, especially knowing how involved Greg was.
I don’t think anyone could have been truly prepared to step into that kind of leadership when their whole world had just been turned upside down—let alone with everything that followed. When I say you’re inspiring, I mean it in every sense. But what’s been the most challenging part of stepping into this role?
It’s a huge undertaking, and since I still have my day job, I give as much of myself as I possibly can to both. That often means late nights, squeezing tasks into whatever free time I can find. Early on, I felt like stepping fully into Greg’s role would make me a poser, like I couldn’t do it justice. But the more time I spend here, the more I realize how much joy this place brings—not just to me, but to the people who come through the doors. Customers are so kind and encouraging, thanking me for keeping it going and cheering me on, and that fuels me. I want to go all in. Right now, my life is chaotic, and I know I’m not moving in the smartest way, but I’m figuring it out as I go. It’s a lot to balance in an already uncertain time. That’s why I give full credit to the team that shows up every single day, keeping this place running.
I try to remind myself and others that Greg's shoes are un-fillable. It is unfair and unrealistic to suggest any of us could completely fill the hole he left. But we are striving to honor and uphold what he built, reflect his passion, and perpetuate his spirit of authentic hospitality. I've been determined for Mudgie's to endure as a place people can return to, remember him, and enjoy. That is a huge motivator to give it all I can muster.
What’s the wildest thing you’ve had to learn—something you never in a million years expected to be figuring out?
Oh my god, everything. I didn’t come in with a background in finance, so I’ve leaned heavily on our bookkeeper to keep payroll running and make sure the bills get paid. But I’ve also had to familiarize myself with our books—where the money’s going, where we can be more strategic, and what opportunities we might be missing. There were a lot of little things to untangle—contracts that had been made by Greg, sneaky charges, catching auto pay at the correct time, and contracts that had just been rolling over. It’s been a process of picking things apart piece by piece, especially since I hadn’t been in the trenches of the daily operations before. And then, once I finally wrap my head around something, I’ll realize I didn’t act on it fast enough—which is its own kind of frustration.
What advice do you have for other women stepping into leadership roles in the industry—whether they’re just starting out or have been in hospitality for decades? Because, honestly, we could all use a gentle reminder now and then.
Honestly, find your people—especially women. Seek out those you can ask questions and get direct, even blunt, answers from. Surround yourself with people who will push you beyond what you thought possible. Don’t waste energy panicking about things until they’re actually happening. At no point in my life did I imagine I’d be here, but here we are. Take things one step at a time—it’s all any of us can do.
Thanks so much to Liza for taking the time to share her story with me, and for kicking off the Badass Women in Hospitality series. Special thanks to GB in Detroit for capturing headshots of all the incredible badasses.
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Wow... beyond amazing...I have to reread just to count the number of mountains that you have conquered!! Kudos to you and your support system!! ❤️