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Ciao Bella
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| No Bella, Just Ciao | Heidi and the fall of the Roman Empire | |
| It was one of those weeks
… I should say another one of those weeks. Deadlines, meetings, a
dentist visit that didn’t quite go as hoped, an out-of-town visitor
… and that’s just what kept me busy over lunch hours. B’s schedule
was equally or more hectic, although he didn’t have aftereffects of
ultrasonic dental abrasions to spoil his appetite. It looked, for a
while, that we’d be doing a weekend makeup again, but calendars
cleared up at the tail end of the workweek and we found ourselves at Ciao
Bella in Edina—the venue selected so that B could make a late
afternoon meeting that after a glass of wine he decided not to make—for
a three o’clock lunch on Friday.
That’s Friday, October 31st, i.e., Halloween. CB was in the spirit, although it seemed incongruous to be being served Italian food by a character from the wrong side of the Tyrolean Alps—a tall, blonde woman in a peasant costume featuring a dainty white cap, laced-up vest, frilly white blouse. Places like CB don’t wear well, in my opinion. They open to fanfare … there’s usually some aspect of the style or décor that is unique and reasonable quality control is initially exercised in the kitchen. But, most of the time, they’re not so much restaurants as visual statements. It’s easy to keep the place looking upscale and elegant, not so easy retaining the human capital necessary to appeal to the critical palate or the critical pen. There’s little to say about CB’s menu that hasn’t been said already in these pages. Entrée salads, pastas, pizzas, flatbreads, sandwiches … a grilled portabella here, Sicilian sausage there, truffle oil somewhere in between. What, but no calamari? But wait, there it is, an optional topping for the Caesar salad. And who would not want to try the risotto with summer vegetables when it’s snowing outside? Flatbreads? That might be something different, we thought. Uh-huh. It turned out to be a small pizza, that’s all. Ours had grilled asparagus, sweet peppers, fresh basil, three cheeses. (Which three cheeses? Who wants to know.) Somewhat dry, unremarkable if inoffensive. For his entrée B decided to attempt an off-the-menu request to our grown-up, laced-up Heidi. "Do you have gnocchi?" "Nocky? What’s that?" He settled for the ravioli, which turned out to be workmanlike. I went for the linguini nero—black linguini with shrimp, mussels, "fresh fish," saffron-tomato sauce. Nothing was particularly good about this; the mussels were fishy, the shrimp had this odd, almost crunchy texture, the fresh fish turned out to be salmon and something else and was dry. And the espresso was mud. A |
It was Halloween and The
Lunch was drifting like a rudderless spirit. Was there going to be a
Lunch this week or not? Schedules were jam-packed with A threatening to
leave town at any minute. Finally, like a brief sunny spell during a
squall, the heavens cleared and The Lunch met belatedly—two thirty to
be precise—over soulless Italian food at Ciao Bella.
The first time I dined at Ciao Bella I didn’t quite know what to make of the place. The food, after a few glasses of wine, was tolerable and the place had a buzz about it. But that was before meals at Zelo, Bacio, Coco Cha Cha and Biaggis – all Italian restaurants that could pass as a facsimile of each other.The restaurant occupies a large space and the old hands amongst you will remember it as some sort of Mexican cantina (the name escapes me for the moment) in a previous incarnation. In fact I remember spending a snowy afternoon drinking margaritas here some ten years ago but that’s another story. Ciao Bella has an open floor plan with arches and a high ceiling. The front of the restaurant is occupied by a large bar that was well populated at 2:30 PM. Our waitress was dressed in a Swiss costume, complete with an off the hair white hat and an off the shoulders dress, indeed a veritable Heidi of the Alps. Her knowledge about the menu and Italian food seemed to suggest that this was a case of Heidi among the Hidalgos. My query about gnocchi was answered with "what’s that?" Otherwise the menu is extremely predictable with the usual assortments of salad, pastas and sandwiches that you might find at Pasta Warehouse or Macaroni Grill with about a twenty to forty percent price differential. I was late joining A, who had already ordered a flatbread and a glass of wine. The flatbread—A must have fond memories of our lunch at Redstone—is your basic thin crust pizza. Ours was topped with assorted vegetables and cheese and with my glass of Coastal cabernet was an OK appetizer. Having failed in my quest for gnocchi (even after I had attempted a "gn" sound!) I settled for the ravioli of a most neutral (read bland) variety. Not realizing (or forgetting for the moment) that this was Halloween I asked the waitress if she was wearing the normal uniform (It wasn’t as stupid a question as it now sounds – the restaurant could have been celebrating Swiss month…?) to which she replied, with a coquettish smile, "You don’t think we always dress like this do you?" A had his espresso and I made no noise about ordering dessert. The bill came to $58.00 – money spent most unwisely. On my way out I saw a very attractive witch in black, complete with a witch’s hat, coming in. I had to ask: "Hi, coming to work?" "Very funny!" was the response. Sometimes you just can’t win. B |
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