When it comes to eating real Italian, in my opinion, none is probably better than Pepolino Ristorante in New York City. The deliciousness, the elegance, the fineness, the utter authenticity.... except when you come back to reality and remember that Little Italy is 1800 hundred miles away or something! So I tend to eat less Italian when I'm back at home in Sportsman's Paradise, and stick with seafood and beignets. It was not until my birthday rolled along that I actually chose to go to an Italian restaurant (generally speaking; I do love Italian but I'm more of a tapas kind of gal). The place we were to go, with my beloved aunt and uncle, of course, was called Tony Angelo's, a place my dad raved about to me reminiscently. So I agreed, slightly crestfallen by my loss of the chance to try the Melting Pot, but excited nonetheless.
When Madame La Bouffe and I pulled up beside Tony Angelo's (the place is hidden inside of a plain old house and has no parking lot), I immediately thought, "DRAB!" at the sight of the reasonably large yet plain house we were walking toward. It was slightly anticlimactic to have such high expectations about a place, then come and find an ugly brick house. Looking back on that now, I feel as though I was being really stupid and close-minded, and would certainly feel a lot different after I came out of the place four hours later, with a full tummy and many blissful thoughts trekking across my mind.
We met my aunt and uncle at the bar, got all of our necessary glasses of wine and Bloody Marys, and were led through the softly lit dining room to our reserved table. We had an entire little room all to ourselves, which was also softly lit, and the rough wooden walls and shelves full of wine contrasted perfectly with the elegant white table-clothed table. Our cheery waiter, Jonathan, gave us all more of our necessary drinks plus glasses of ice water, and a basket of hot homemade bread. The bread was studded with sesame seeds and came with a plate of soft butter. It certainly tasted homemade, much better than any of the stuff you could buy at Rouse's, and I savored every mouthful.
We all decided to get the "Feed Me, Mr. Tony!" menu, where they bring you dozens of tiny courses throughout your dinner. Being a total fan of tapas, this suited me very well, and at this point I was thoroughly happy. First course was marinated mushrooms with salami, shrimp remoulade, and steamed artichokes with lemon olive oil. Talk about indulgence! The mushrooms were by far my favorite, with their delicious mild flavor, salty salami, and almost indescribably delicious marinade. The shrimp were cooked to perfection, and the artichokes were indeed a delicacy (we found it was a necessity to dip our bread in the olive oil). I ate of that course with gusto, while watching my portion size, because who knew how many more courses we were going to eat before our dinner there was through?
Please forgive me, dear readers, if I do not describe the courses in order. There were so many of them, and so delicious, that it was quite hard. So anyway, after the first course, that's when the ball started rollin'. There was Lobster Cup, a dish that I did not thoroughly understand but thoroughly enjoyed. It came to us in tiny white dishes, piping hot. It had a creamy sauce, probably with some cheese on top, and tender lobster throughout. So rich, so fatty, but oh-so-good! There was crabmeat pasta, a concoction of angel hair spaghetti, crabmeat-tomato sauce, and Parmesan, which I ate in a blink. There was a brisket salad, half palate-cleansing, half-splurge, with fresh lettuce and tomatoes topped with the tender beef. There was crispy fried fish with lemon, plain but nevertheless fantastic. There were eggplant rolls, which were a delicious dish of ricotta and tomato sauce inside of roasted eggplant slices, rolled up, so that they looked like manicotti. We also had barbecued shrimp, which quite stole the heart of my uncle. And let's not forget the panèed veal, and roast pork in marinara sauce, served up with pasta! My Land, it felt as if I could have lived on that stunning meal for the rest of my life!
After the entrees, everyone was incredibly stuffed except me, so I ordered dessert. I chose the icebox lemon pie, which, instead of a wedge, came in a teensy square. I was slightly disappointed by the weeny size of the thing, and even more so when I'd tasted how good it was. It was ice-cold, with delicious sweet lemon flavor, and it was with great difficulty that I resisted popping the entire square into my mouth whole. Of course, I wanted more, so I ordered another, making it sound as though it was for my aunt, so the restaurant people wouldn't think I was a chunky glutton (which I am not). At the end of the dinner, the restaurant staff surprised me with a "cake" for my birthday. It was really an eggplant with a sparkler and a handful of dried spaghetti stuck into it; beside it was a tomato, a green bell pepper, and a lemon. The waiters turned out the lights, and one of them sang "Happy Birthday" in Italian. He came back later and sang "Santa Lucia" for me, which was a little awkward but very enjoyable.
Tony Angelo's, which may look drab to you on first impression, is THE place to go for Italian in Louisiana. Service, ambiance, and food are all spectacular, and I will be back as quick as ever I can. Oh! And a tip: Come on your birthday, and you'll get mighty spoiled! :) :) :)
