Rice to Riches

Blowing the lid off of organized crime and off of a container of shit pudding

Many years ago I was visiting New York City with my mom when a bizarre, futuristic building on Spring Street caught my eye. The building looked like a spaceship with circular windows and yellow accent lighting. It was selling rice pudding.

I had never eaten rice pudding but have always been partial to sweet treats, so I begged my mom for money to give it a try. I tried the pudding but was sadly underwhelmed.

I would have never guessed that this pudding shop may have been harboring a dark secret.

Years went by and I returned to New York as an adult. Everything was different: different stores, different restaurants, different bakeries and coffee shops and apartments. Everything, that is, except for that futuristic rice pudding shop on Spring Street. And what’s more, I discovered that this rice pudding shop, called “Rice to Riches,” was expanding to the Lower East Side where it was opening its second location.

Who is buying this mediocre rice pudding? How is this place paying rent? And why is it “future” themed? I decided to investigate to learn more.

First I read the reviews.

The casual racism- a relic of the early 2000’s- was one common theme, but there was a second interesting theme: a number of different reviewers accused Rice to Riches of being a money laundering operation. I dug in for more information about the owner of the establishment, Peter Moceo Jr.

Peter founded Rice to Riches in 2001 after returning from Italy to his home in Trump Tower. According to a Trump Tower resident on Medium, “Pete arrived at Trump Towers with a glistening olive tan from his summer in Naples and a briefcase of cash.”

Things are already looking sus, but it gets worse.

In 2005 Moceo was arrested (along with his father, Peter Sr., and a Trump Tower concierge) for running a $21 million per year sports gambling ring. The DA at the time even alleged that Rice to Riches was launched with, and was used to launder, earnings from the gambling operation.

To top it all off, Moceo looks like a henchman from a Jason Statham movie.

When the NY Times asked Moceo’s lawyer, Raphael Scotto, whether his client was involved in organized crime, the lawyer replied, “I have to laugh, too many people watch ‘The Sopranos,’ so everyone thinks they’re half an expert on all this stuff, you know what I mean?” which I guess is how mob lawyers say “no comment.”

On an unrelated note, this cartoonish lawyer has also become known to crumple up subpoenas and toss them into the nearest trash receptacle. A judge wrote of Scotto, “this dramatic use of the trash bin to signify his scorn would become a signature move for him.”

Suddenly my childhood memories made more sense. The rice pudding wasn’t good because it didn’t need to be; it was simply being used to launder gambling proceeds. Or was it?

I decided to visit the new location for clues.

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The first thing I noticed was a sign above the door which read “STUPID GOOD RICE PUDDING UP IN THIS BITCH!” which should have been my first clue to turn around and never come back.

The next thing I noticed was that the location was enormous, spotless, and empty.

The toppings had names like “Spirit,” “Unity,” and “Blessings,” and were collectively referred to as “Jesus Droppings.”

The rice pudding flavors had edgy names like “Oreo-gasm” and “Sex, Drugs, and Rocky Road.”

I thought that the Sex, Drugs, and Rocky Road flavor also looked like Jesus Droppings, but if Jesus suffered from IBS.

The branding was a confusing hodgepodge of futuristic, irreverent, urban yoga studio/crystal shop themes that left me scratching my head.

Then came time to order. Customers are allowed to sample three flavors. I tried three samples and wasn’t impressed with any, so I panic-picked a safe-sounding fourth flavor called “Understanding Vanilla” for some reason.

I got the smallest size which cost $10.50 and was packaged in a plastic flying saucer-shaped dish and came with a utensil which resembled some type of space-age shoehorn.

I brought it back to a friend’s apartment and popped the lid off to reveal the goop inside.

I then used the utensil to shovel some of the goop out of the flying saucer and into my mouth.

It had the flavor of frosting and the consistency of cottage cheese.

My friends all tried some too, with reactions ranging from “it’s okay” to “umm…” to “huh.”

The author preparing to shovel goop into his mouth

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So, is Rich to Riches a money laundering operation?

The fact that it’s remained in business for over 20 years selling what I consider to be a subpar product, combined with the fact that a million dollars in cash was seized from Moceo’s condo while gambling records were seized from Rice to Riches itself does not bode well. Factor in Pete’s physical appearance and we have what looks like an open and shut case.

But on the other hand, money laundering operations tend to keep a low profile and Rice to Riches is the most flamboyant and conspicuous business in lower Manhattan.

Additionally, Moceo has said in an interview before the arrest, “Ask my wife, I don’t sleep; I’m up all night thinking about rice pudding.”

I didn’t ask his wife, but I don’t think someone could utter that horrible quote if it wasn’t true.

While I would have chosen a more worthy dessert to lose sleep over, it sounds like Peter is up late at night mixing new flavors and scribbling on a blackboard while his wife tries to sleep, and I commend that dedication.

Plus, now that sports betting is legal in New York I’m not sure what he would be laundering, unless he has diversified into other criminal activities since his last brush with the law.

No, I believe that Pete is just a certified pudding freak and that we shouldn’t jump to conclusions based on his past indiscretions.

So is Peter guilty of money laundering? The jury is still out. But he is guilty of bad pudding and heinous branding, and that’s something we can all agree on.