I never tire of reading restaurant menus. It's not as if a menu has a plot or a narrative arc (going from an appetizer to a dessert is more of a culinary arc), but if a menu is a good read, I find myself immersed, even enthralled -- right up to the point when I hear the words "Are you ready to order?"
The menu at Cafe Bionda on North Milwaukee Avenue is a good example. Despite the fact that I had to hold the table candle over the menu to read it (can you turn up the lights a notch, please?), I was drawn in by the many family connections that pepper the menu: "Aunt Mimi's stuffed shells." "Nanna's Gravy." "Joe's Mama Meatball Salad."
Quite often, restaurants will come up with a name, a family story or history that is pure fiction (Ed Debevic's, Shaw's Crab House and J. Alexander's come to mind). Such is not the case at Cafe Bionda (bionda translates from Italian as "blond"). The "Joe" is owner-chef Joe Farina. There was an Aunt Mimi, and if you really want to sell a dish in an Italian restaurant, simply slap a Nanna or a Mama (spell it Mamma for full effect) alongside a dish.
Nothing could stop me from trying all of those dishes. How could I resist trying "Joe's Mama Meatball Salad"? The tag line read "Sunday Salad." Putting together a meatball as big as a tennis ball with a romaine lettuce salad is not something you see every day, but it was one fine appetizer. Accolades, of course, to the meatball, which was truly terrific.
A special note of thanks to "Aunt Mimi" for her contribution to the goodness of the stuffed shells. The trick to fine-tasting stuffed shells has as much to do with the carrier -- the shells -- as it does the stuffing, which here was a luscious and creamy affair (the ricotta whipped and creamed up with mozzarella). But ya gotta have a good sauce, too, and with these shells it was a shockingly good tomato/ vodka cream sauce.
"Nana's Gravy" ("gravy" in Chicago neighborhoods implies a rich, red sauce) lovingly coated big tubes of rigatoni ("rigatoni gigante"). So with a rich and meaty sauce and perfectly al dente pasta, there was little chance of anything (as large as the portion was) being left on the plate. The "gravy" came about (according to the menu) from slow-roasted pot roast, and that worked fine (in the old days, gravy got its kick from neck bones).
Back to the appetizers. A combination plate of zucchini and calamari was fine. Big slices of crusted zucchini and tender rings of squid were served with two dipping sauces, aioli and marinara. Nothing out of the ordinary going on there, but quite pleasing.
A pasta special one night was gnocchi with rapini aglio e olio, and it was, indeed, quite special. Plump pillows of properly chewy gnocchi, creased on one side to capture the essence of the garlic and oil sauce, were tangled up with the sauteed rapini and a wealth of thin slivers of garlic, which had been sauteed just enough to take some of the steam (pungency) out of them, which was the right thing to do.
Whole boneless brick chicken was enough for two to share and then some. The chicken, splayed across a large oval platter, was meaty and marvelous. Herbs, lemon, garlic and white wine added to the flavor. Planks of rosemary-enhanced potatoes added to the enjoyment.
Chicken, veal and eggplant can be had Parmigiano- or Milanese-style. Only the chicken was tried, and while it was the standard pounded chicken blanketed with sauce and cheeses (mozzarella and Parmesan), it was quite good, and the portion was more than two could possibly finish.
Desserts were not much to speak about. Nevertheless, Cafe Bionda came up with a fine "block" portion of tiramisu, the cream rising above the ladyfingers by an inch or more thick. If you are tired of tiramisu, the chocolate cake will do just fine.
Pat Bruno is a free-lance writer, critic and author. E-mail brunoeats@aol.com.
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