FALL DINING GUIDE
Just inhale -- Italy's aroma is all aroundThe Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Published on: 10/05/2006
DURING MY TENURE as the dining critic for the Providence Journal in Providence, R.I., I got a lot of phone calls that went something like this:
Me, answering the phone: "This is Meridith Ford."
Elissa Eubanks/Staff | |||
| Dishes at di Paolo bridge the gap between authentic Italian and what's popular in the States. The tidy strip-mall restaurant was voted Atlanta's favorite Italian for the past three years by Zagat.
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Elissa Eubanks/Staff | |||
| Seared scallops with polenta, sautéed spinach and tomato-onion compote stand out on La Tavola Trattoria's menu. | |||
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Them: "Yuh not Italian, ah you?"
That's because everyone in Rhode Island is Italian, even if they aren't. Those like me (without names ending in a vowel) are Italian by proxy.
What I learned from my years as an Italian by invitation only is that there are two kinds of Italian food — the food Italians eat in Italy and the food Americans call Italian. Both have merit, and both exist, surprisingly, in Atlanta.
I've rounded up some of the area's favorites from both categories, and a few that are in a class all their own. Mangia!
Alfredo's is one of those family-owned joints that's been around seemingly forever (actually since 1974), resting happily near a tiny used-car lot on Chesire Bridge Road.
It's dark inside and wafts of garlic; that coupled with the wood-paneled walls and giant fish tank make it seem like you're eating in a big basement in New Jersey.
There's a guy behind the mirrored bar that does nothing but take calls all night, answering the tinny ring from the white princess phone that dangles from the outside wall.
The waiters are seasoned players and wear vested uniforms that look a little like a gondalier without the silly caps and neckties. They speak fast, take orders fast and bring the food fast. They bring little chocolate mints to the table after dinner — fast.
The menu is a book of pasta, meat, chicken, fish and veal, and if you navigate it correctly, you'll enjoy your meal. For instance, don't order escargot or stuffed mushrooms: They'll be mushy. But the melon and prosciutto, with a Caesar salad and a glass of Chianti ... tutto bene.
Stick with chicken, or even better, eggplant parmigiana — gooey, Campania-style dishes that stick to your ribs and can be shared, because Alfredo's is a fun place to share your food.
Like Alfredo's, Nino's — just an olive pit's throw down the street — is timeless. It's been serving since 1968. The itty-bitty makeshift bar is one of the best spots in town to have a girl-to-girl chat because no one will bother you. The dining room walls are adorned with schmaltzy art prints of the Mona Lisa and maps of Italy while lined with red vinyl booths.
Owner Antonio Noviello is from the Amalfi Coast, but the menu at Nino's is more Sopranos than Sicilia. It's the kind of Italian Americans used to identify with most: a little clams oreganato, a little vitello parmigiana, a little fried mozzarella. If Tony has a cousin in town, she might make an apple-and-custard tart for dessert.
Melon with prosciutto may bring a bite of one of the best cantaloupes of the season — mine tasted as if it were bought from a roadside stand and never refrigerated. Chicken piccata has a juicy meatiness, with that buttery light lemon sauce that makes piccata ... piccata.
When a member of the Castellucci family takes you from Sugo's foyer to a seat in their restaurant's dining room, you can hear the Rhode Island accent drip from their tongues. The Castellucci family is half-Italian, half-Greek, and they moved to the Atlanta area from Rhode Island after owning the legendary Archie's Tavern there. Their kitchen serves up lots of gooey goods in very large portions (in Rhode Island restaurants are ranked by the number of doggie bags, not the number of stars).
This is the kind of Italian that Atkins dieters deem unredeemable: oozing thin-crusted, cheesy pizzas with figs and spinach; big baskets of soft bread; creamy pastas stuffed with cheese and chicken smothered in cream sauce.
It's the kind of Italian that's easier to find in America than in Italy, but it's well-prepared and easy on the wallet.
The original Roswell location, with its cavernous dining room that seems to go on forever, just wasn't enough for Atlanta: The restaurant has expanded to include three more locations in Roswell, Duluth and Park Place across from Perimeter Mall.
Di Paolo, in Alpharetta, is another example of how Italian food, in its voyage across the Atlantic, left itself open to interpretation once it arrived. This tidy spot in the middle of a strip mall has been voted Atlanta's favorite Italian for the last three years by Zagat, yet its menu is hardly one you'd find all that readily in Italy.
Dishes here bridge the gap between what's authentic and what's popular, offering a little of both. The pizzas are the best of what's right about the menu — the wafting aroma of the wood-burning oven permeates the parking lot. Crusts are thin and crisp, reminiscent of old Napoli, and are smeared with yummies like chicken and artichokes, pancetta, roasted peppers and grano padano.
The pasta is a bit of a crap shoot, with ravioli con capra, stuffed with goat cheese and mushrooms a cheesy winner, but a classic such as lasagna Bolognese a weird combination of béchamel and ground mystery meat.
Desserts are way over the top, with gaufrette cookies shaped like spoons and cups made of chocolate. They are a far cry from the biscotti and fruit you might finish a meal with in Florence.
An evening at La Tavola Trattoria will have you sipping Sartori Amarone Valpolicello and singing along to the rumbling voice of Nat King Cole. Both may lead to romance, reminiscing or a sentimentally sexy combination of the two.
In between, chef Craig Richards (who cut his Italian teeth at Lidia in Pittsburgh, part of the dynasty of restaurants from Lidia Bastianich) will offer a candid approach to Italian cooking, with few fervent flourishes, just a lot of honest cooking with a modern touch.
Simple charcuterie in the form of speck and prosciutto proffered with a few olives, little more. Mussels with parsley, oregano and thyme, the broth a perfect ruse for dipping crusty slices of bread. Well-made risotto, plump seared scallops, beet salad — all simple dishes, served simply, and with lots of integrity. That's as Italian as it gets.
Modern is also how the dishes from chef Chad Scott, at Trattoria Monaco, could be described. How Italian they are is debatable.
This is the kind of menu that combines, more often than not successfully, a stable of traditionally Italian dishes with ingredients Americans deem Italian: Mussels in a rustic white wine broth rife with garlic and herbs, the former; taleggio cheese deep fried and served with a funky marmalade of olives, mustard and pickling spices, the latter.
Some, like the insalata Caprese, are entirely too fussy, served in sweeping style that overreaches the genre. Remaking this standard of fresh tomatoes, mozzarella and basil with olive oil in any way rings insincere, a little like someone remaking Streisand's "People."
The cherry-picked wine list is a very nice offering of Italian wines interspersed with a few other global influences, mainly California.
How much of a trattoria is Trattoria Monaco? The newly minted strip mall digs make it hard to envision a tucked away alley somewhere in Tuscany, but the dark, clubby woods and sleek booths in back are nevertheless a comfortably sophisticated respite from the outside parking lot.
The schmaltzy stucco arches that line the wood-burning oven at Baraonda may bemuse as well. They are hardly a giveaway as to the thoroughly authentic, crispy Neapolitan pizzas within.
Catering to a devoted lunch crowd and the folks who come prior to a show at the Fox, Baraonda is one of those quiet little intown spots that everyone thinks is still a secret. It's so not.
And while there are a few pastas that make the grade (the simpler the better, like tomatoes with basil and mozzarella), the long list of pizzas offer the best in the city: Quattro formaggi with its stringy-from-fork-to-mouth mess of gorgonzola, mozzarella, parmigiana and provolone; or Napoletana with oregano and mozzarella, crowned with salty anchovies.
A new dining area has been added, but if Baraonda is too busy, head next door to sister Enoteca Carbonara for a fine glass of wine and some well-procured meats and cheeses.
Antica Posta has been since inception one of the most authentic places to get real Tuscan food in Atlanta. And like a great Chianti, this restaurant has aged well.
The dishes on the menu appear like a gallery of old friends: Duck ragu over fat pillows of tortelli stuffed with spinach and ricotta cheese, carpaccio di manzo with its chiffonade of arugula, parmigiano and a mound of raw, butter-textured beef. Seared scallops over chickpea puree.
Owner Marco Betti is from Tuscany and owns a sister restaurant there. But it's inside this little yellow house in Buckhead that he has managed to re-create for Atlanta the food, if not the view.
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