Suburban Tasteland

Little Ears and Smoky Pizza

On Thursday, AK’s post on Monroe’s Italian restaurant appeared on DCist. In addition to Trattoria da Franco, this is one of our Italian standbys. The food is surprisingly good for a restaurant that seems content with its identity as a neighborhood trattoria. And their honor system policy with the large bottles of serviceable red wine at each table makes them one of our favorite Thursday night destinations. Here’s what we had:

Monroe’s Bread: A thin pizza crust baked with olive oil and topped with rosemary, kosher salt, parmesan, and chopped fresh basil. This is one of the most original homemade breads we’ve eaten. Diners have the option of enjoying it along with their olive tapenade or eggplant caviar. We usually opt for both, although, in truth, the bread does its best work on its own.

The Corona Bean Salad: A delightfully light salad of field greens, large soft white beans (possibly butter beans), mixed amid thinly sliced red onions and roasted red peppers, all tossed in the house vinaigrette. We recommend, crunching a bunch of fresh black pepper all over the salad.

Orecchiete with Sausage and Radicchio: Al dente “ears” of pasta mixed with a rich sauce of a mix of sweet and spicy sausage and cabbagey radicchio.

Pizza Alla Mo: It may not look all that impressive compared to the blistery pies served up at Pizzeria Paradiso or Two Amys, but this is a powerful pie with a three dimensional sauce that blends smokey bacon, sweet red peppers, and tart tomatoes. You can smell its smokiness as soon as the plate hits the table. It's topped with rich and fruity green olives and mozzarella, all baked on Monroe’s signature thin crust.


Panna Cotta: A light and refreshing eggless custard with fresh raspberries, raspberry sauce, and whipped cream. See if you can persuade your waiter to leave off the raspberry sauce and the whipped cream, as they merely detract from the simple perfection of the panna cotta.

Enjoy pizza and pasta at Monroe’s:

Monroe's
603 Commonwealth Avenue
Alexandria, Virginia
(703) 548-5792

—AC & AK

Pasta Triptych

We enjoyed dinner with KCS on Saturday night at A La Lucia, a relatively new and pretty popular Italian restaurant in the North Old Town section of Alexandria. Since it’s opening about year and a half ago, the restaurant has enjoyed a lot of success, having added a dining room and expanded its bar area. But even with the added space, you’ll still need a reservation to guarantee a meal there, especially on a weekend night.

The ambience is modern with a very old world sensibility. A cramped entry leads to a large inviting bar area where many are none too shy to enjoy their full meals. We had our dinner in one of the new dining rooms. Warm mustard-colored walls featured lovely wall hangings, and vintage-inspired lamps emitting very low lighting hung from the walls.

Soon after we sat down, our waitress brought us complimentary bruschetta. Though it was delicious, it was clear it had been in a long queue of bruschetta, the tomatoes having rendered the toast a bit soggy, causing them to fall apart.

For appetizers, we went with the Meatballs with Polenta and the Roasted Red Peppers with Olives, Capers, and Anchovies. Six delicate veal meatballs were filled with herbs and spices and sat in a dish of soupy polenta with tomato sauce. The meat and starch combo was perfectly complementary and surprisingly light.

The red peppers, onions, olives, and capers were fashioned into a circular mold with two slivers of anchovy balancing on top. The mold was placed atop several pieces of crisp, cold romaine lettuce. The saltiness of the capers, olives, and anchovy married nicely with the roasted sweetness of the vegetables. And the lettuce turned out to be an appropriate vehicle for the vegetables.

It was decided from the beginning that we’d get three pasta dishes and split them three ways. Unfortunately there were more than three that piqued our interest. Still, we decided on the Malfaldine (thick ribbon-like pasta strands) with Veal Ragu, Rigatoni with Sausage, Onion, and Peppers, and Cannelloni stuffed with with Veal and Vegetable.

The cannelloni was tremendous. It was a special that night, so it's not always available. Two long cylinders of pasta were filled with tender ground veal (similar if not exactly identical to the veal mixture used for the meatballs) and topped with just enough mozzarella and a thick tomato sauce featuring big chunks of stewed whole tomatoes.

The rigatoni was an excellent version of a classic dish. Huge, perfectly al dente rigatoni were covered with generous crumbles of spicy ground sausage nestling in a thick sauce of tomatoes and peppers. This item is featured on the regular menu and was AC's favorite.

KCS’s malfaldine, another special that evening, was a new adventure for all of us, as we had no idea what to expect when we ordered it. The pasta was a perfect vehicle for pasta sauce, as the curly edges of each long strand trap in sauce well. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a lot of sauce to this sauce. Delicious and tender sliced pieces of veal, carrots, and celery comprised a relatively dry mixture. But while we would have liked more liquid to this sauce, the generous portion of meat sauce was full of flavor, and the pasta offered an interesting element of texture.

Had we not packed up some of the pasta for later, we would never have had room for their gelato. We were at first dismayed that we could only try two flavors (gelato should always be served as a trio in restaurants), but after careful consideration, we settled on the Dulce De Leche with Pralines and the Limoncello Crème Sorbetto. The dulce de leche was a like a dream come true for me. I’ve always enjoyed pralines ‘n’ cream, even the cheapo varieties, and anything with dulce de leche is A-OK in my book. The gelato was so creamy and rich, and the pralines (not enough of them, in my opinion), were crunchy and sugary as could be. The crème sorbet was powerfully lemony, and not icy like a lot of sorbets. Next time, we’ll go for the grapefruit Campari sorbetto and the gianduia (chocolate and hazelnut).

For great pastas and gelato, go to A La Lucia:

315 Madison Street
Alexandria, VA
(703) 836-5123

—AK

When High Art Begets Base Impulses

In the opening scene of Neil LaBute’s play Fat Pig, the titular character is contentedly eating a large slice of cheese pizza at a luncheonette. Perhaps LaBute intended for the audience to be horrified that this supremely ample woman is unrepentantly enjoying super fattening food in public, instead of pretending to enjoy a salad topped with grilled chicken at lunch, and then later secretly grubbing on a shameful shoebox stash of Zagnut and Clark Bars.

After the play, however, we realized that this scene, rather than causing any feelings of disgust, actually inspired a powerful hankering for pizza. The actress manages to eat the whole slice of pizza as the scene unfolds, so our animal brains couldn’t help but respond with sympathetic hunger.

So, AK, myself, and our pal KCS decided to make our inaugural visit to Dupont Circle’s Sette Osteria, the cheaper eats offspring of Cafe Milano.

We started off with the Carciofi e Sedano Insalate, a salad comprised of “shaved fennel, celery hearts, and fresh artichoke with a lemon vinaigrette.” While the salad was pleasing enough, $11 is a bit aggressive for salad pricing. Still, there was almost enough for three people to enjoy without getting into a nasty fork fight. I love fennel, but am always disappointed whenever it’s deployed in a salad. It’s anise-like flavor is just barely present in its raw form. The celery made up for this flavor deficiency, as did the two small sheets of parmesan that we broke up over the salad. And anyway, if you’re going to have pizza, it’s always important to start off with a salad. You need to feel just a little bit virtuous after the appetizers to earn the excess of the pizza entrees.

We opted to share three pizzas. Unfortunately, the pizzas were initially presented to us without having been sliced. I was so famished, that my weakened brain convinced me that I could slice all of our pizzas at the table on my own. But my table companions’ good sense prevailed over my futile display of chivalry, and we hailed our waiter to make it happen for us. He actually seemed surprised at our request.

One of my all-time favorite pizza topping combos is the pairing of sausage and broccoli rabe. The bitterness of the broccoli rabe is a wonderful complement to the typically sweet and spicy crumble of Italian Sausage. Sette’s rendition of this classic, however, while appealing to the eye, is ultimately a disappointment. The broccoli rabe barely had any bitterness, tasting more like standard steamed greens. In fact, AK and KCS posited that the broccoli rabe in question might actually have been broccolini. The pork sausage was also surprisingly mild, the sprinkling of calabrese chili peppers likely intended to pick up the slack.

For our second choice, we wanted something toppings intensive, so we chose the Quattro Stagioni, which included tomato, mushrooms, artichokes, and porchetta ham. While we liked the idea in concept, I couldn’t help but feel that the cloud-like bundles of porchetta were a little too mild for my liking. Not exactly having a mastery of hams, I had assumed that porchetta would be a variation on the smoky and salty prosciutto. I guess I require that meat toppings on pizza exhibit some sort of dramatic spicing or curing to merit their presence. It must be the influence of all that pepperoni pizza that I scarfed at Shakey’s as a wee one.

I’m usually dismissive of the Quattro Formaggi pizza at other establishments. I’m not even willing to give it a chance because I always want tomato sauce and at least two toppings. But Sette’s version of this classic is far more complex than I imagined. At first, you experience the saltiness and nuttiness of the blend of grana and pecorino, and then you hit a sweet patch of the gorgonzola. And because you can’t quite determine which section of each slice features the gorgonzola, you’re constantly in a state of surprise as the flavors tilt between salty and sweet.

While Sette Osteria was somewhat underwhelming, I could see us occasionally popping in to share a Quattro Formaggi over a couple of beers. -AC

Food Media Blackout

In addition to eating a lot of food, we also read about it extensively. There are always those restaurants that get praised by just about every blogger and food critic in the area. Restaurant Eve, Komi, Corduroy. Okay, these are great places, we get it. But what we don’t get is why a place that is packed every night and serves up such fantastic Italian food is largely ignored by the local food media: Trattoria da Franco in Old Town. Others may disagree, but Trattoria is very nearly the equal of A La Lucia, another Alexandria neighborhood Italian that, though only a recent arrival, has already been assigned to double duty on both the Washingtonian's 100 Best Bargains and 100 Very Best lists of Washington area restaurants.

One of the things that surprises me about Trattoria’s virtual absence from the food-obsessed community is that its façade is so distinctive; a food critic should have been inspired to enter just on looks alone. The building is clearly an old colonial vestige, but it’s been done all up Italian villa-style and adorned with loads of ivy and other décor. The romantic outdoor seating and chalkboard specials menu gives diners a first glimpse of what is in store—even more romantic ambiance that is a slightly more elegant and European version of the 1950s neighborhood red sauce Italian. Inside a cozy pair of dining rooms feature low lighting and fabulous wall hangings that include vintage photos of Italy and Asian opera brochures. And we are always met with an extremely friendly staff (who recognized us, even predicted our appetizer after a good half-year of absentia) and live music (this time it was a piano player and a woman singing 1950s standards) including a regular Sunday opera night.

During our visit the other night, as previously mentioned, one of the waiters correctly guessed that we’d be ordering an appetizer of zucchini fritte (zucchini strips very lightly fried, served with a savory marinara sauce). This is hands-down one of our favorite Italian appetizers, and Trattoria does a fantastic job. The strips are fleshy and soft, and, frankly, just the tart essence from a squeeze or two of the lemon provided is all that they require; the marinara sauce actually takes away from the light, buttery fried coating and texture of the zucchini. However, it should be known that the marinara is outstanding in its own right.

We also tried the spinach and mushroom salad, which has become an AC and AK favorite at Italian joints, particularly Café Monti. It's so simple—raw spinach, raw mushrooms, a lemon vinaigrette with a touch of egg— but allows for a healthy starter with a surprising amount of depth, making you ready to dive into the entrees, both of which blew away our lofty expectations.

The penne amatraciana came perfectly al dente (the pasta is homemade), smothered in a sweet tomato sauce, a liberal addition of diced onion, and its smokiness the result of the wonderful pancetta (Italian bacon). This is the kind of pasta dish, that, if I could afford a weekly purchase of pancetta, I would make instead of my standard marinara. And though amatraciana sauce is usually spicy, not sweet, it was a perfect counterpoint to the salty pork.

Our other entrée was a house special: butternut squash ravioli with a pink sauce. Usually those pink sauces are deceiving. You think, “This won’t be heavy, it’s pink!” And then you’re wrong; it coagulates into a brick of fat sitting in your stomach. But this dish was refreshingly light, though I have no illusions about the amount of butterfat involved. The six large homemade ravioli were showstoppers. Each bite was a combination of al dente pasta, squash puree, and an explosion of some kind of fabulous spice—cinnamon, allspice, I have no idea. But it was key to taking this dish from great to excellent.

The Bread
Bread seems to be the main thing that Italian restaurants use to set themselves apart because all of our favorite places offer a bread that has its own genius to it. For us, bread is not just a prelude to a meal, but also a vehicle for scooping and sopping. Trattoria opts for a soft, chewy loaf with a very modest crust accompanied by an olive oil dipping sauce mixed with a bit of pesto, resulting in a cloudy lime-green mixture bursting with flavor.

Old Favorites
During previous visits, we identified a couple of standbys. One is the outstanding eggplant melanzane. See here for details. Also, I became obsessed for a while about the saturated-fat fest that is carbonara sauce (butter, cream, cheese, eggs, pancetta). It started when I saw Mario Batali make it on Martha Stewart’s cooking show (pre-prison). He did it the traditional way, whereby you crack a raw egg on the top, right before sticking your fork in. I believe he said this is basically the Italian eggs and ham and that it is frequently eaten for breakfast. So for several weeks straight I would order the linguine carbonara at Trattoria. Though the egg is incorporated in the sauce behind the scenes, this is still one of the most decadent, fattening, and exciting of Italian pasta dishes for me. Each twirl of pasta is glistening with butter and sheathed in the creamy sauce. The pancetta, for me, just adds needed salt and texture, and the carbonara (referring to the liberal sprinkling of pepper) really brings it on home, as I’m crazy about freshly cracked pepper and suffer from chronic overuse of it at home.

Please visit Trattoria da Franco at:
305 South Washington Street
Alexandria, Virginia
(703) 548-9338

—AK

Once Upon a Melanzane

It is my sincere belief that the eggplant is one of the most misunderstood vegetables on the planet. Naysayers will denounce its “mushiness” or call it “gross” because of its silky, fleshy texture or shoot an askance look in its direction because of its odd shape and color. I pray that you never find yourself sitting or eating with the sort of nudnik who fails to appreciate the dynamism and majesty of the eggplant.

I find that even when eating eggplant in its various incarnations, its fundamental nature prevails: the eggplant has a magnificent smokiness when roasted, and the crisp, yet pliant, skin ultimately yields to its softer core.

I’ve plowed my way through plate after plate of Szechuan deep-fried eggplant at the now-defunct Formosa Cafe, scarfed a platter of Sala Thai’s eggplant stir-fry in black bean sauce, and enjoyed eggplant sliced, grilled and oiled up on pizza at Faccia Luna, but I think the one format that truly showcases the majesty of the eggplant is the magical melanzane (eggplant parmesan, for the uninitiated).

Every place seems to do it differently, but the end result is the same: sautéed or fried eggplant sliced thinly, layered with cheese (usually mozzarella, depending on the place), and smothered in some fabulous sauce. If you know me, you also know that I am passionate about tomatoes, so when the ripe red fruit and the eggplant collaborate in this dish … well, it’s just beyond words. In fact, I rarely speak even to AC while enjoying it. AC, be silent.

Over the past several months, I’ve had the joy and pleasure of sampling and repeatedly enjoying our immediate area’s best melanzanes. And I've listed my two favorites according to the following categories:

1.    Mountain of Melanzane. This category is dedicated to those restaurants that present their melanzane in a painstakingly brick-like form—perfectly tailored into a 3-D rectangle with sauce and cheese cascading down. The largely unheralded Trattoria da Franco in Old Town rules this category. The eggplant slices are so thin and delicate, they must use a straight razor. I’ve never seen anything like it. The sauce is on the creamy side, but is clearly homemade, and the cheese is ample, but sufficiently tucked away between the layers of eggplant.

2.    Country Style. This is the kind of rustic melanzane that you would surely find out in the hinterlands of Tuscany, where some zaftig grandmother is effortlessly slinging melanzane left and right. And you can get it at Cafe Monti, in Alexandria. The presentation is sloppy, all three main components just seemingly tossed on a plate willy-nilly. But when you sit down and dig in, you'll feel like your wizened Nonna whipped up your favorite after a long day of picking olives. In this case, you get several slices of eggplant of medium thickness, cooked to perfection so that that the flesh has a bit of rigidity (but is still soft), and the skin, still on, has a nice crackle to it. Best part is the mozzarella cheese—totally charred (probably finished off in the broiler), allowing for a covering of crispy golden, but still elastic, delicious cheese.

Check out my favorite melanzanes at the following two places:

Trattoria da Franco
305 South Washington Street
Alexandria, VA 22314
(703) 548-9338

Cafe Monti
3250 Duke Street
Alexandria, VA 22314
(703) 370-3632

-AK

The Piglet School of Thought: A Meatball Syllabus

In general, I subscribe to the piglet school of thought that more is always less gooder than a lot more. This occasionally leads to minor discomfort, and, more often than not, retreating back to the homestead to beach myself on our couch. And this attitude not only informs portion size, but also spicing. I’m always giving the pepper mill an extra twist or three, telling the Thai restaurant to make our delivery order 3 out of 4 stars spicy (do not ever do this), and asking for banana peppers on top of pepper relish on top of pickled jalapenos for my foot long at Subway.

But last weekend, Café Monti’s spaghetti and meatballs reminded me that simple meals can be just as delicious as meals that deploy the whole spice rack. We’ve been working our way through Café Monti’s menu for the past several weeks, and there are many items that are probably more noteworthy than their spaghetti and meatballs: Austrian goulash with bread dumplings, jaegerschnitzel with spaetzle and red cabbage, and eggplant parmigiana. We'll write about those items, as well as their amazing desserts on another occasion. Today, it’s spaghetti and meatballs.

Being a big fan of high weirdness, I wouldn’t normally order something as staid as spaghetti and meatballs. But La Piazza and Faccia Luna’s own contributions to the meatball canon had me wondering how Café Monti might compare. Both La Piazza and Faccia Luna mix a fair amount of herbs, chopped onions, and minced garlic into their meatballs, so I was expecting Café Monti to do the same. Instead, Café Monti offered a relatively Spartan presentation. The meatballs were garnished with a sprinkling of fresh parsley and a little parmesan, and contentedly idling in Café Monti’s mildly sweet and tart tomato sauce. Slice one of their meatballs in half and their greatness reveals itself: no herbs, onions, or garlic, but rather an abundance of meaty juiciness reflected in the sheen of the knife. Most meatballs that I’ve had are relatively dry inside, which not only makes the meat bland but reduces the ability of any herb and onion embellishments to truly perform. In these instances, it’s all up to the tomato sauce to make everything come alive, but too often that’s simply not enough.

The only underachieving component of Café Monti’s spaghetti and meatballs was the somewhat less than al dente pasta. But it was satisfactory enough, and could ultimately be forgiven as the delivery system for their superlative meatballs. -AC