How to Tell You Are in a Bad Italian Restaurant
Follow these tips to avoid watery pools of marinara and rubbery calamari.
Heyo!
You might remember a few weeks back that I wrote about the virtues of hot dogs and wine. Well, Sunday I needed a quick comfort meal, so I decided to whip up a Chilean completo and pour a glass of dry rose.
The completo Italiano, a popular South American hot dog topped with avocado, tomato, and mayonnaise, is a colorful sandwich made simply. Though other completo variations include condiments like sauerkraut, salsa Americana (finely chopped pickles, pickled carrots, and pickled onions), ketchup, and even a fried egg, there’s just something very Summer-ish about the Italiano. This completo consisted of a Hebrew National jumbo frank, an Arnold’s potato roll bun, guacamole, seasoned tomatoes, and roasted garlic mayo. Man, it was good—cool, squishy, snappy, and fresh. When it comes to hot dogs, I’m a mustard and raw onions guy through and through, but here I wasn’t missing them at all.
Why is a completo Italiano so good? Why should you try it? Because the avocado and tomato bring a needed amount of freshness to the hot dog. So often there is talk of hot dogs needing tanginess and bite, but clean and fresh flavors add something special, too. The presence of cooling fruits and vegetables really make the hot dog feel like a meal, and when you pair it with a glass of wine, that full meal quality shines even brighter. This was just the combination I needed after a long week. Long live hot dogs and wine.
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I was inspired by my good pal Kath Barbadoro’s recent post, “How To Tell You Are In A Good Sandwich Place” which detailed the very specific attributes of a great, old school sandwich joint. Inconsistent hours, the ominous presence of police memorabilia, pictures of more than 3 members of the Sopranos cast—these all serve as context clues which point towards a very good sandwich experience. Conversely, sometimes the lack of such things can signal a dud.
This post made me miss Kath (she’s in NYC, not dead), because it’s exactly the type of specific, peculiar observation that I expect out of my friends, most of whom are very talented comedians. Comedians always have the sharpest opinions about food; they’re able to cut directly to the heart of something in ways that food writers cannot. Writers and journalists usually have strong ethics and a reserved tone. Most comedians, it should be said, don’t really give a fuck. I identify more with the latter.
In the spirit of such a post, I have outlined context clues for a similar institution. I have spent my life working in or dining at these types of establishments, so I feel qualified to divulge such information. Here’s How To Tell You Are In a Bad Italian Restaurant:
The presence of Frank Sinatra anywhere in the restaurant, but especially his mugshot. If you see Frank’s mugshot hanging on the wall, there’s going to be a thin pool of watery marinara at the bottom of your plate. I guarantee it.
“Italian” is somewhere in the name. Ynot Italian. Carrabba’s Italian Grill. Bravo! Italian Kitchen. Jimmy D’s Big Rock N’ Roll Italian Restaurant. If Italian is actually in the name, I hope you like dense meatballs and garlic bread made with Whirl!
*actually I would happily devour some garlic bread made with Whirl*
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Things are spelled wrong. At Colombo’s in Eagle Rock, meatballs is spelled “Meat Balls.” Don’t make me pause in-between the words meat and balls, it’s gross. Some people in L.A. like Colombo’s, but I’ve got my reservations. I once worked with a guy who spelled penne “penhen.” The food at that restaurant was not very good.
Any sight of un-tossed pasta. Holy shit, how are some people still not tossing pasta in sauce??? To not do so is barbaric. If you walk into a restaurant and see a plate of naked fettuccine noodles with a mound of meat sauce slopped on top, run.
You see an n’ anywhere on the menu. Mac n’ cheese bites. Spaghetti n’ meatballs. Mix n’ match pasta. This choice is always befuddling. Good Italian restaurants use words, not country-American shorthand.
Speaking of mix n’ match pasta, what a horrible concept. A good Italian restaurant just serves pasta with prices: Shrimp fra diavolo - $28. Orecchiette alla Pugliese - $23. And so on. It shouldn’t be a matching game. Look at this menu for Joseph Tambellini’s in Pittsburgh.:
Rigatoni, Linguini, or Angel Hair, then choice of tomato basil, tomato basil cream, Alfredo sauce, arrabiata, or aglio e olio. This is too chaotic; the pasta dishes should just be labeled individually. Also, $32 for aglio e olio? $45 for rigatoni, salmon, jumbo lump crab meat and cream sauce? Friend, I wouldn’t pay $45 for a good carbonara let alone salmon and fucking heavy cream. All that said, Joseph Tambellini’s could be decent, but the mix n’ match pasta tells me that there’s simply no way the quality matches the price tag.
Somebody says, “go for the vibes.” This is weirdly an epidemic in Los Angeles. As mentioned in my hit piece on The Infatuation, if anybody is telling you the vibes of a restaurant are good, that means the food sucks and they know it. What are those vibes anyway? Checkered tablecloths? Candles? Dean Martin’s “Ain’t That a Kick in The Head?” Those are not good reasons to go to a restaurant. This is like when people say that a comedian is “nice.” The first thing should be funny. “Oh hey, we saw that nice comedian tonight.” A horrible, horrible insult. Anyway, Jones is nice, but it is not a good Italian restaurant.
The presence of brunch. Mimosas do not jive with pasta or red sauce.
The placemat has Italian facts on it.
Coupons.
Any sort of live entertainment. A band, a lounge singer. Holy shit, at Palermo in Los Feliz, there is sometimes a man who plays an accordion and sings very crass, childlike tunes to the customers. Like, nursery rhymes sung by a sex offender. I’m not kidding. I sat at the bar one night and watched this happen in horror. Anyway, Palermo smells like bleach and the food is horrendous. If it were any good, um, they wouldn’t need to pay a man to play an accordion? One of the most blatant lies is that the presence of TVs in a restaurant is boorish. The real crime is live entertainment. Oh, and the biggest red flag of all? If you see an Italian restaurant advertising “live comedy,” run for your life.
Thanks for reading The Move! Boy, I’m very glad that I don’t work in bad Italian restaurants anymore.
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Though I am outside of Los Angeles currently, I still plan on talking about it often. Also, I will be covering food in Pittsburgh, Detroit, New York, Philly, Chicago, and beyond!