La Grolla

Years ago, when La Grolla first opened, my beloved and I went to check out the new neighbors. I remember enjoying myself, but it felt more like a fancy dinner than a night out for Italian. It was all fine, but we have other places that do that job, and we just never got around to going back. A couple of months ago one of my gentle readers commented on my Carmelo's writeup by saying that we should give La Grolla a try, since he thought the food and the prices were comparable. Well, far be it from me to ignore one of your suggestions, so off we went to dinner.

Maybe the intervening years have clouded my memory, but the La Grolla we experienced recently seemed like a very different sort of place. The room is a little darker, a little quieter. The atmosphere seems a little more relaxed, more welcoming than we'd remembered. Even the bill was a pleasant surprise. In short, somehow or other La Grolla has become my favorite sort of haunt.

We started the evening with a decent Chianti and an asparagus appetizer which was a little pricey at $11, but more than enough to share, and excellent. Grilled asparagus and grilled polenta, all blanketed in a gorgonzola cream sauce. If I wasn't sharing, I could have happily made a small meal out of this one. Another first course to die for is the Capesante, which involves two enormous sea scallops somehow wrapped in angel hair and fried, then dressed up with greens, basil oil and lobster sauce. It looks a little like a coral reef gone wrong, but it tastes way better.

Baby had the mixed grill special for dinner. This is not a good name for it. Something more like, "Dear God, this is more food than you can well imagine," would be closer, but I can see how that might cause problems on the menu. What they mean by "mixed grill" is a generous tasting portion of all of the fresh seafood options in the house. This turns out to be quite a large plate. Daunting really, although I think Miss J eventually got through it. I went purist and ordered the Bolognese. The pasta was perfect, and the sauce, though milkier than I expected, was perfectly textured and full of flavor. Also a good-sized portion, and also finished up just fine thank you very much. The only disappointment was that we were sadly incapable of considering dessert, and those of you who know me know how embarrassing it is for me to even have to say that.

Date night was a complete success, so much so that after a fine concert this afternoon, when the topic rolled around to dinner, I didn't hesitate to suggest La Grolla to my comrades. Again, it turned out to be a fine choice. The first thing I did was call and ask if they could fit "maybe six, maybe eight" in for dinner in about 15 minutes. They were unfazed. When we arrived, there was a perfect little table set up for us in the window.

Once again, everything was spot-on. The food was very good. Seafood ravioli, linguine with pesto cream sauce and tiger shrimp, fettuccine alfredo... I made darned sure to save room, but it was still hard not to attack everything I could reach. One minor food gripe here, and this is not specific to La Grolla- there is no good reason to serve shrimp in the shell. Tail-on I can live with, especially if they're fried. Makes a nice little handle. But large shrimp, with full shells, when they are already in the pasta and sauce? It may be pretty, and I suppose it saves some small amount of time in the kitchen, but it's a complete pain in the ass for everyone else. Generally speaking, we do not order pasta because we're thinking of finger food. There. I feel a little better now.

Anyone who's ever waited tables can tell you- it's hard work. You have to be a superhero and not make it seem like a big deal. Friendly, but not ingratiating. Knowledgeable, but not pedantic. Professional, but not stuffy. It's a fine line, but nothing will ruin a meal faster than a server who doesn't get it. La Grolla gets it. Rachel, our server tonight, was perfect. She rolled with everything we threw at her, was genuinely friendly and helpful, and knew her stuff when it came to the food and wine. We had a better time because she was there. What more can I say about that?

La Grolla is a gem. If you're looking for fine, adventurous Italian in a beautiful setting with an excellent staff, you can't go wrong here. Prices are a bit higher than Carmelo's, but not by much, and the portions are generous. If you were careful, and you stuck to iced tea and a couple of entrees, you could make it out for under $40. With appetizers, desserts, and a bottle of wine, you're looking at twice that, easy. It's nice though, and a rare thing, to find food this good in a place where you're not obliged to drop a fortune.

Oh, and those desserts we saved room for? Excellent call. Cannoli to die for.

American Burger Bar

Last week I come home from work and the beloved informs me that she needs a Surly (the beer, mind you- she's got me all the time). The good folks at Surly were kind enough to return her email and let us know where we could find their nectar on tap. So, off we went to the American Burger Bar, in downtown Saint Paul. The restaurant is tucked away on Wabasha, frisbee distance from the courthouse, and around the block from Sakura, which I'll come back to later. I had never been to any of the establishments that have lived and died at this location, so I was excited just to see the inside of the place.

The inside did not disappoint. This is a beautiful room, or rather collection of rooms. Dark wood, leather upholstery, a "library" with real books on the shelves, this is the kind of atmosphere no one pays enough attention to any more. Other than a freakishly cold bathroom, the setting was satisfying on all counts. We ordered our beer, perused the limited menu (limited menu for a Wild game? What on Earth for?), and settled on a couple of burger options and an appetizer to share. Our server was a little over-the-top, but friendly, and we were enjoying what was, so far, a perfectly cozy date.

Our appetizer arrived quickly and hot, a trio of meatballs (lamb, bison, and kobe beef), prettily presented, and each adorned with its own sauce. The sauces were interesting to look at, but didn't offer compelling flavors. The meatballs were good, but not great. They were also a little smaller than golf balls. Not a ton of food for the $11 price tag.

Next came the burgers. We were cautioned beforehand that these would be cooked to medium, so Miss J requested medium well. This medium burger business has long been an issue for me. I mean, it's hamburger. It might be really good hamburger, but still. Just cook it. Undercooking is not the only way to create a juicy burger. As it happened, we needn't have worried, since both burgers arrived well-done, dried out, and utterly unexciting. Mine featured cheddar cheese, and one of several bacon options. Miss J is a little more adventurous. Nothing extravagant, but there were vegetables involved. I didn't want to get too close. Accompaniments were another story. The skinny fries were excellent, and the house mayo very good. But it's the American BURGER bar. We kind of figured the burgers were the point.

After spending a leisurely hour or so over a couple of pints apiece, we decided against dessert, and asked for the check. This turned out to be the really disappointing part. Let's review. 1 small appetizer, 2 burgers, and 4 pints. And baby had the Surly. I was drinking Hamm's at $2 a pop. Total with tip? $60. That is not a typo. $60. I'm not at all averse to shelling out serious money for a meal, when it's clear what I'm paying for, and the substance is equal to the style. But that kind of money for a burger joint, even a purportedly high-class burger joint, is more than a little silly. At the aforementioned Sakura, we could have spent the same kind of cash, and stuffed ourselves without ever leaving the dumpling menu. That would have been a fantastic night.

No matter what you're selling, details are a big deal. American Burger is not paying enough attention to the right ones. Even the website doesn't work properly. I found three obvious mistakes on the front page, and I wasn't giving it a very thorough look.

Last week, after failing yet again to get a table at The Blue Door, we hit The Nook. We had easily twice the "Burger Experience" for half the price. If you're already downtown, and you want a romantic spot to have a drink, I can't recommend the American Burger Bar highly enough. It's gorgeous, and you'll love it. If you're hungry, spend your money wisely, and go somewhere else for dinner first.

Caspers' Cherokee Sirloin Room

My love and I have a good friend in West Saint Paul who lives a half block from Caspers' on Smith Avenue South. We had heard good things about the steaks there, so it seemed like a no-brainer to give it a try. We had a fine time of course, because we were there with a friend, and there was never a shortage of laughter and conversation. Next time, though, we'll probably have Christy join us on our side of town.

It's not that we had a bad meal there. And it wasn't even a question of service. Our guy was new, and he told us so. He was very personable, and obviously trying, so we weren't bothered. And our food was a good value, as advertised. But we didn't have the time we wanted to have. Would it sound too new-agey to say the feel of the place was wrong?

First of all, Caspers' is basically atmosphere-free. You'd expect a place that's been there since just after the Earth cooled to have developed some serious personality, and that didn't seem to be the case here. I wanted a dim, cozy, comfortable chop house. What I got was formal night at the Legion Hall. The bar seemed reasonably inviting, but the dining room gave me the impression that a junior high dance might break out at any moment.

This would not, of course, have been that big a deal if the food had rocked my world. If no one bothered to decorate because they were all in the back exploring the nuances of the perfect steak, I would applaud that sort of devotion. And here we come to the heart of the matter for me, and this goes well beyond my experience with one local steak place. If the kitchen is getting it right, I will tell you how good the food is. And I love food, so if anything, I tend to err on the generous side. If a restaurant tries to tell me how good the food is, that's problematic. First of all, that invites criticism. Seriously. If I hand you a burger and wait patiently for your opinion, that's cool. If I hand you a burger and tell you it's the best burger EVER, you're almost obliged to start looking for problems.

I had a pretty average steak called (on the menu, mind you) "The Steak of the Millenium." How am I supposed to react to that? The fries were the same story. I was told beforehand that they would be the best I ever tasted. And they were just okay. Not very hot, and just okay. Miss J's steak and shrimp combo was a little more successful, and the au gratin potatoes were quite good.

The point is, if I ordered an unassuming, affordable steak and fries and got the same food I had here, I probably wouldn't complain. But steak and fries that tell me ahead of time that they're wonderful, and then aren't? I'm just a touch offended by that.

Maybe the problem is with the whole notion of the budget steakhouse. Good steaks are expensive, and there are good reasons for it. Go to Mancini's for the otherworldly ambience. Go to Lindy's for a steak that will feed you the next day. But if you really want a steak that will make your eyes roll back in your head, that's going to involve some scratch. No getting around it.

So take your $22, and go get Thai food, or Indian food. You'll eat like royalty. Plan ahead for the incredible steak dinner, and you'll have time to save the money you'll need. Better yet, find some wonderful meat, have the friends over, and do it at home. In that setting, everything will taste better anyhow.

Donatelli's Italian Resaurant

Let's be clear about something. My blog is not a big deal. I can count my followers on my fingers (thanks to all 8 of you). I've been able to steer a few of you to a good meal, and I'm delighted about that, but do I think my good opinion is essential to any restaurant's reputation in the wider world? Of course not. But pretend with me for a second. Imagine that TCDA has become the collective voice of Twin Cities foodies. Minnesotans cannot begin the day without tuning in to see where I'm eating now, and what I think about it. Restauranteurs cannot sleep at night until they know I approve of their establishments. I can, with the most casual flourish of my keyboard, reduce a perfectly respectable diner to a smoldering ruin. Are you with me? Good. Excuse me for a second while I have a giggle about that whole idea.

Okay.

If all of that were true, Donatelli's would not need me. Wouldn't even notice. Because it seems that everyone who grew up north of 36 and east of 35E has been going to Donatelli's weekly for the last 30 years. And believe me when I say everyone. You cannot eat here without being part of the most diverse and interesting group of people you've ever seen in one restaurant at one time. The funny thing is, the rest of us in the Cities have likely never heard of the place. Again, not a big deal for them, because they're full virtually every night, but still, I felt a little cheated when some of my White Bear amigos finally tipped me off. I mean, have I not been one of the cool kids all this time? Can that be true? Well now I know, so rather than consider that possibility, I'll shut up and eat my pasta.

There is something inescapably charming about Donatelli's. It's not in the nuance, and it's not in the atmosphere. Most of the decor is built around a small army of stuffed Pink Panthers, most of whom seem to be engaged in some seasonally appropriate activity or other. You wouldn't find them at La Belle Vie, but they work here, like old friends you're happy to see again. Old, stuffed, pink friends. The staff is also unvaryingly friendly, and the mood is light, energetic, and sincere. Even the Boss, who's been doing this for 30 years now, still runs food out to tables, and will occasionally sit and chat with the customers. Ask him about the history of the restaurant, and you're guaranteed an enthusiastic account of the early days, when everything Donatelli's offered had to be stable enough to trundle through the pizza oven, because there wasn't any other equipment.

When a full house is a sure thing, service can go south in a hurry. Servers get complacent and condescending, and it doesn't take long to ruin what might once have been a wonderful place. Certainly many quality establishments have faded away over lesser sins. The staff here somehow dodges that bullet. It's as if they know they've got it good, and they appreciate you for it. They're having fun, and they take it personally if you're not. You might show up grumpy, but I bet you won't leave that way.

What to eat? Everything I've tried has been exactly what I needed. The Donatelli's Dunkers are a good place to start. They're slices of fresh Italian bread with mozzarella and a side of red sauce. Get them with the garlic butter. As if you need me to tell you that. For an entree, I can't seem to get past the baked mostaccioli. It's about what you'd expect. Pasta and red sauce, covered with cheeses and baked bubbly. Only the red sauce is way more interesting than you're prepared for, and the pasta is homemade and fresh. All of the pastas here, with the exception of the stuffed varieties, are made in-house, and you can tell the difference, even when the little guys have been smothered and baked. Your dinner will also be bigger than your head, so plan on taking something for lunch the next day, if you want to be able to walk to your car. This is comfort food of the highest order. Most of it is horrible for you, but it makes you happy, and when it ends up being two meals, that's not so bad, is it?

What surprises me are the details here. Everything is just a notch better than it really needs to be, and that's a rare thing. Homemade pasta. Fast, efficient service. Meals that arrive piping hot. Friendly people that really do care that you eat well. And of course an owner who is still there, still involved, and still having a good time making it all go.

If you somehow manage to save room, there's a full-service ice cream counter in the front of the house, and several Donatelli's favorites available to take home with you. Seriously, why would you ever leave?

Entrees go from $6.99 up to $17.99, the beer and wine is basic and a little more spendy than it ought to be. If you don't do a lot of drinking, you can feed yourself and a date very reasonably. So what are you waiting for? Go. Go early. You'll probably end up waiting anyway, but I bet they'll bring you pizza fries if you're nice. Yeah, those are perfect, too.

Maria's Café

So many things going on this week, it's dizzying. My wife, who, by the way, is a superhero, ran the Twin Cities 10-mile this morning. I am immensely proud of her. I would not, of course, be writing about restaurants at all if it weren't for the lovely Miss J on the other side of the table. The Rose Ensemble is releasing their new CD, "Il Poverello," this weekend, so there are concerts aplenty to celebrate that. And we have Italian guests in town, and of course we have to do our best to show them why we think this is a marvelous place. For breakfast, that meant taking them directly to Maria's.

When the band was in Spain a while back, we were in the wine region known as Rioja. That was just fine, of course. The place was beautiful, the food was good, and the wine was wonderful, but you really had to like Rioja, because that was what you were going to get. Even in the stores, there weren't many options beyond that. Here, my accomplice Carrie and I were able to pack two Italians off to a Colombian restaurant to have Venezuelan corn pancakes. How cool is that?

By the way, I'm sure you've heard all sorts of people espouse this or that as a universal language. They're all wrong. It's pancakes.

Maria's is located in a group of shops and offices known as The Ancient Traders Market, on Franklin just west of 11th Ave. You can have your breakfast, then run across the parking lot for great deals on baking supplies at the Aldi. Parking is off-street and plentiful, always a plus in my book. It also doesn't hurt that they're kitty-corner from the Franklin Street Bakery, a wonderful place to stop while you're in the neighborhood.

The menu is not huge, but there's something for everyone here. If you want your basic eggs and toast, that's not a problem. If, on the other hand, you're after a plantain pancake, then you can do that, too. The coffee is good, and the array of exotic fruit juices will keep you entertained for weeks. I've never had anything here that wasn't wonderful. The salsa is to die for, the refried are excellent (vegetarians, don't say you weren't warned), the build-it-yourself plates are yummy AND fun, it's all just great, and almost beside the point. Because the reason you go to Maria's is the same reason everyone else goes to Maria's– the pancakes. Specifically the corn pancakes, or Cachapas Venezolanas. I really don't have words to describe these beauties. They're plate-sized, full of corn, sweet, salty, tangy, buttery, crisp on the edges, soft on the inside, and incapacitatingly wonderful. You can have them plain with butter, with syrup (not sure why, but it's an option), or (the way to go) with crumbly cotija cheese. The cheese is enough to share, so only one of you needs to order it. It sounds strange, I know, but be brave. You'll enjoy it. The only thing to be careful of is their deceptive size. They don't look dangerous, but trust me, you'll want to start with one. Once or twice a year, I'll convince myself that I'm hungry enough for two of them. I have never once been right about this. One, with a side of eggs or breakfast meat, is a perfect meal. Maybe not energy food, but certainly happiness food, and isn't that just as important?

The downside of Maria's is that everyone loves it, and once you go, you keep on going. Which means that, on the weekends, the place is packed, and I do mean packed. If you must go Saturday or Sunday, go early, or be prepared to wait. The mass of humanity is only one side of the problem. The building is not enormous, and neither is the kitchen. Being staffed with regular old humans, they sometimes have trouble keeping up. If you want to experience Maria's at its best, go for breakfast during the week. It's still busy, but it's much more relaxed, and the food will likely be that much closer to heaven.

Prices are reasonable. If you don't go crazy, two of you can do breakfast for under $20, and still leave stuffed. Isacco and Stefano did. Stuffed, and very very happy.

Old Chicago HarMar

I make the HarMar distinction for a couple of reasons. Mostly, I don't know if I've ever been to another Old Chicago. Also, I don't normally pay much attention to chains. Doesn't seem like that should be the focus of my little blog here. But I also work for a very large company, and I'm fond of saying things like, "You know, to the customer that comes in here, we're not a faceless national company. We're just their store, full of people they know. Their relationship with us determines their satisfaction with our store, not our corporate identity, and blah blah blah blah....." I admit the possible cheesiness of that attitude, but I really do believe it, and that is the way I've always approached my work. So I think I need to put my money where my mouth is and talk about the OC. Not the corporate OC, which is meaningless to me, but good ol' HarMar, and the people who took care of me and mine.

A quick primer on Old Chicago, just in case you need it. It's a good, reliable pizza place. The menu is weighted toward domesticated Italian. It's a little more expensive than it probably should be. The food is unlikely to change your life, but it's also unlikely to disappoint. They're known for carrying an impressive selection of beer, which is absolutely true. If you're after a pizza-and-beer sort of evening, they're a home run. The post-work happy hour is also recommended, particularly if you have the sort of friends you can vent with. Isn't that what happy hour is for?

The artistic side of my life these days involves spending time with a fabulously talented group of musicians. Last weekend we had a friend come from Italy to work and play and record with us. On his last night here, we wanted to get together and have dinner. Trouble was, we had no idea how large our party would be. Anything from six to fourteen would have been perfectly plausible. I didn't know exactly how to go about making that sort of reservation. So I walked over to Old Chicago on a break and explained the situation to them. They did look at me a little strangely, but they didn't seem to think it would be a problem.

When I showed up later that evening, in the middle of their dinner rush, they had a table set for eight, with another empty in case I needed it. We did need it, as it turned out. We had one server who did an exemplary job, and a very kind manager who stopped from time to time to make sure everything was okay. Separate checks were offered and perfectly executed. We had a great time, and never had to worry about anything. That, of course, was the plan.

Maybe all of this is no more than a customer should expect. Maybe I'm impressed for no particular reason. But what the OC did for me was impressive because they took me and my pain-in-the-behind reservation, and did what needed doing. They kept it simple, and handled everything like pros, all the while being very nice to me and my friends. I have had much less satisfying evenings in much fancier places.

So I don't know about Old Chicago as a company. Which is all well and good, because the company will never have to feed me. But the gang at HarMar did, and do, and I appreciate them for it. If you need a good pie, or just a place to eat where they're nice to you and you can hear yourself think, don't pass them by because they're a "chain restaurant." Give them a chance to do their thing. And have a pint for me.

Carmelo's Ristorante

Carmelo's has been a staple for me ever since I came to the Twin Cities. For the record, I'm not the least bit Italian. I have no grandmother to whose work I can compare Carmelo's creations. I go because I love the food, and I'm as amazed now as I was when I was a mere pup at the value offered at this Saint Paul hole-in-the-wall.

Carmelo's offers, not high-brow Italian exactly, but certainly elegant Italian. What do I mean by this? Well, there's no flash, no hype, nothing to distract you from the simple pleasure of well-made food. Heather and Mark know that good cooking speaks for itself, and they're content to let their menu do its job. Everything here is home-cooked. Wisely, their website hits you with this trivia right out of the gate. Pastas, sauces, even the bread on the table, nothing here is trucked in or farmed out. It's made on site, according to "generational" recipes. All of this might sound a bit stuffy if everything weren't so darned good. Try anything here. The staff, equal parts quirky and cool, will help you if you have trouble, and you really can't go wrong. Two things you simply must have. First are the arancini. I've had these for years, in all sorts of places, and for my money these are the best you'll find anywhere. They are piping hot, rich, breaded globes of arborio rice, with sausage and peas, baked in a pool of bolognese sauce and cheese. I can't say enough about these. They are literally giggle-inducing good. Try these first, and if you keep ordering them, and skip the entree, I will understand completely.

The second is the signature entree, chicken Carmelo, which consists of a breaded and baked chicken breast covered with crab meat, parmigiano, and lemon cream sauce, all atop a bed of angel hair and roasted seasonal vegetables. This isn't just good. It's completely unfair.

These two dishes alone are reason enough to come back to Carmelo's, but the best part happens when you get the bill. For some reason, nothing on this menu costs anywhere near as much as it should. The chicken Carmelo, the most expensive entree on the menu, is $16.50. That's silly. You can spend more than that on a pizza almost anywhere. With a bottle of vino, my love and I can have a wonderful dinner here and get out for under $75 with tip. It's not fast-food cheap, of course, but neither is it fine-dining expensive, and it should be. For the quality of the food, the calm and quiet atmosphere, and the nice people making sure your needs are met, Carmelo's is a steal. Always has been.

The best thing I can say about Carmelo's? My wife just picked me up at MSP after a two-week trip to Italy, where I ate nothing but pasta and pastry and wine and cheese. We drove from the airport to Carmelo's.

They are located, by the way, near the corner of St. Clair and Snelling, kitty-corner from the Broiler. If the drugstore on the corner is open when you leave, stop in for an ice cream soda. Seriously.