On a stroll down memory lane, Nick forgets one crucial detail
We'd been there once before, on a special occasion two years ago. We enjoyed the attentive service, warm atmosphere and good wine, but for Chloe, it was the extraordinarily delicious pasta sauces that stuck in her imagination and had her excited for the return visit.
I ran into the WBJ's previous reviewer, Vinny Tokaj, and when I mentioned I'd be going to Chianti he related with relish his experience there two years ago: "It was the restaurant's opening week. Mr. Moo's dish featured four slices of veal, under a blanket of cheese. Problem was, it certainly wasn't the gorgonzola that he'd ordered. Moo told the hostess. Quickly, the manager showed up with a plate of grapes, sliced apples and a hunk of gorgonzola. "I'm very sorry," he said. "We made a mistake." Moo was shocked, and said he'd been waiting two years for a restaurant to say that."
We arrived promptly for our 8 p.m. reservation, but had to wait about 10 minutes for our table to be cleaned up. The restaurant was packed, as was the entry way, where about eight of us stood waiting for tables. Chianti obviously hasn't lost any of its popularity. But the clientele seems to have changed since our last visit. Whereas it used to be full of corporate expense-account types, this time nearly everyone was in jeans, polo shirts and sneakers, mostly 20-something Poles, Brits and Americans in tourist fare.
A waitress finally sat us at a table in the no-smoking section, located on an elevated platform at the back of the room. Our waitress brought menus and a big basket of warm, homemade bread along with a bowl of garlic butter and two bottles of flavored oil for dipping the bread in.
We chowed on the delicious bread and listened to the lively music being played by a violinist and accordionist in the corner. I couldn't get over how Chianti's atmosphere had changed: I remembered it as a candlelit, subdued kind of place, but now the joint was jumping. A steady flow of new visitors kept the tables full all evening, and only one group was in suits. Loud conversations rose over the music. It felt like a TGI Friday's in the States.
"It seemed more romantic the last time we were here," I said.
"That's because you proposed to me the last time we were here!" Chloe shot back. That is not true. For the record, I proposed on a secluded path in lazienki Park. We only came to Chianti to celebrate that she had said "yes." "Do you have no memory of ANYTHING?" Chloe continued.
There was nothing to do but retreat behind the menu and check out the specials.
We began by splitting an appetizer of warm, sauteed mushrooms in garlic sauce - very tasty. We also started in on the wine, a Bardolino Villa Rocca (zl. 45). I'd enjoyed a Bardolino that I'd drunk a few weeks earlier at Vera Italia, and this one didn't let me down: very fruity, with a big, plumy nose. By my second glass though, I began to taste something else: cigars. But it wasn't a subtle characteristic of the wine I was picking up. It came from the table of smoking Germans sitting below our platform perch. Why don't the smokers sit upstairs, I thought. It was a little annoying having clouds of smoke drift up and across our table.
We both chose first courses from the menu's specials page, called "Chef Giancarlo Russo recommends." There were seven items, all zl. 30-zl. 36. However there was no indication as to which ones were first courses or second courses, so I asked the waitress for a recommendation. "You can have them however you want, it's up to you," she said. Is it possible for a restaurant to take the "customer is always right" credo too far? I would have appreciated some advice.
We decided to try both of the ravioli specials en entre. Both were made of Chef Russo's homemade pasta, lightly browned and stuffed with fresh spinach and riccotta cheese. Chloe's raviolis were served under a sage sauce, while mine came dressed with a basil-spiced sauce made of sweet, fresh tomatoes.
"Can I try one of yours?" Chloe said, not waiting for an answer before scooping up one of my raviolis with her spoon. I parried with a lunge and scooped up one of hers. The sage sauce was good, but I think the fresh tomatoes on mine were the better choice.
I grabbed the last piece of that homemade bread, not warm anymore but still scrumptious. The mains arrived with no delay. It was a repeat of the meal we'd enjoyed at Nautilus with Harold and Maud. Chloe again had the Melanzane alla Parmegiana (zl. 30), a baked eggplant covered by melted parmesan cheese. It met Chloe's full approval, but she had to give the edge to the version at Nautilus. Harold's Saltimbocca at Nautilus looked so good I decided to give Chianti's a try. Their version (zl. 29) lacked the visual flair of Nautilus, but the thinly sliced veal covered with melted prosciutto cheese and a sage sauce was still very delicious. I had a side dish of fresh spinach, served with a handful of raisins mixed in to tasty effect.
We finished with two espressos (zl. 6), an ice cream for Chloe (zl. 15) and a tiramisu for me (zl. 16). It's a close call, but I'd say Chianti's turn on this rich, creamy dessert edges out Vera Italia's. Our meal came to zl. 270 ($67.50). I finished up with a shot of Sambucca, the favored drink of my predecessor Carmine LaBruno. The strong, peperminty liqueur was served flambe with three coffee beans steeping on the bottom. Carmine would have approved.
I ran into the WBJ's previous reviewer, Vinny Tokaj, and when I mentioned I'd be going to Chianti he related with relish his experience there two years ago: "It was the restaurant's opening week. Mr. Moo's dish featured four slices of veal, under a blanket of cheese. Problem was, it certainly wasn't the gorgonzola that he'd ordered. Moo told the hostess. Quickly, the manager showed up with a plate of grapes, sliced apples and a hunk of gorgonzola. "I'm very sorry," he said. "We made a mistake." Moo was shocked, and said he'd been waiting two years for a restaurant to say that."
We arrived promptly for our 8 p.m. reservation, but had to wait about 10 minutes for our table to be cleaned up. The restaurant was packed, as was the entry way, where about eight of us stood waiting for tables. Chianti obviously hasn't lost any of its popularity. But the clientele seems to have changed since our last visit. Whereas it used to be full of corporate expense-account types, this time nearly everyone was in jeans, polo shirts and sneakers, mostly 20-something Poles, Brits and Americans in tourist fare.
A waitress finally sat us at a table in the no-smoking section, located on an elevated platform at the back of the room. Our waitress brought menus and a big basket of warm, homemade bread along with a bowl of garlic butter and two bottles of flavored oil for dipping the bread in.
We chowed on the delicious bread and listened to the lively music being played by a violinist and accordionist in the corner. I couldn't get over how Chianti's atmosphere had changed: I remembered it as a candlelit, subdued kind of place, but now the joint was jumping. A steady flow of new visitors kept the tables full all evening, and only one group was in suits. Loud conversations rose over the music. It felt like a TGI Friday's in the States.
"It seemed more romantic the last time we were here," I said.
"That's because you proposed to me the last time we were here!" Chloe shot back. That is not true. For the record, I proposed on a secluded path in lazienki Park. We only came to Chianti to celebrate that she had said "yes." "Do you have no memory of ANYTHING?" Chloe continued.
There was nothing to do but retreat behind the menu and check out the specials.
We began by splitting an appetizer of warm, sauteed mushrooms in garlic sauce - very tasty. We also started in on the wine, a Bardolino Villa Rocca (zl. 45). I'd enjoyed a Bardolino that I'd drunk a few weeks earlier at Vera Italia, and this one didn't let me down: very fruity, with a big, plumy nose. By my second glass though, I began to taste something else: cigars. But it wasn't a subtle characteristic of the wine I was picking up. It came from the table of smoking Germans sitting below our platform perch. Why don't the smokers sit upstairs, I thought. It was a little annoying having clouds of smoke drift up and across our table.
We both chose first courses from the menu's specials page, called "Chef Giancarlo Russo recommends." There were seven items, all zl. 30-zl. 36. However there was no indication as to which ones were first courses or second courses, so I asked the waitress for a recommendation. "You can have them however you want, it's up to you," she said. Is it possible for a restaurant to take the "customer is always right" credo too far? I would have appreciated some advice.
We decided to try both of the ravioli specials en entre. Both were made of Chef Russo's homemade pasta, lightly browned and stuffed with fresh spinach and riccotta cheese. Chloe's raviolis were served under a sage sauce, while mine came dressed with a basil-spiced sauce made of sweet, fresh tomatoes.
"Can I try one of yours?" Chloe said, not waiting for an answer before scooping up one of my raviolis with her spoon. I parried with a lunge and scooped up one of hers. The sage sauce was good, but I think the fresh tomatoes on mine were the better choice.
I grabbed the last piece of that homemade bread, not warm anymore but still scrumptious. The mains arrived with no delay. It was a repeat of the meal we'd enjoyed at Nautilus with Harold and Maud. Chloe again had the Melanzane alla Parmegiana (zl. 30), a baked eggplant covered by melted parmesan cheese. It met Chloe's full approval, but she had to give the edge to the version at Nautilus. Harold's Saltimbocca at Nautilus looked so good I decided to give Chianti's a try. Their version (zl. 29) lacked the visual flair of Nautilus, but the thinly sliced veal covered with melted prosciutto cheese and a sage sauce was still very delicious. I had a side dish of fresh spinach, served with a handful of raisins mixed in to tasty effect.
We finished with two espressos (zl. 6), an ice cream for Chloe (zl. 15) and a tiramisu for me (zl. 16). It's a close call, but I'd say Chianti's turn on this rich, creamy dessert edges out Vera Italia's. Our meal came to zl. 270 ($67.50). I finished up with a shot of Sambucca, the favored drink of my predecessor Carmine LaBruno. The strong, peperminty liqueur was served flambe with three coffee beans steeping on the bottom. Carmine would have approved.
