NoRTH

Restaurant: North
Location: 4579 W. 119th St., Leawood, KS
Food: Northern Italian
Service: Traditional Waitstaff
Atmosphere: Modern, vibrant
Price: Starters $8-$12, Pizzas $11-$13, Entrees $14-$30
Rating: one napkin

A restaurant's food should be a catalyst for good conversation and fun times. That's my philosophy. So it was a bit disappointing that after our birthday-foursome's meal there, we felt our good times were had in spite of a lackluster dinner.

The night started off well... a glass of wine at the vibrant bar at La Bodega on 119th street. The place was packed. There was a roar of enjoyable conversation mixed with the clinking of plates and glasses as exotic but homey tapas were passed and shared at the many tables surrounding us. In the distance, a server spun flaming stemware in a shower of sparks as she prepared their signature Spanish coffee. Brisk outside but toasty warm inside, we enjoyed an adult beverage and then bounced over to North, on the opposite end of the shopping center.

There, too, we were greeted with a raucous, buzzing scene. It was dark with strategically placed spot lights illuminating tables and the brick walls. Lime green seats, which would likely have looked cheap in higher light, worked to add a splash of color to the otherwise stark interior. I got the feeling North was working much harder to come across as modern and intriguing than homey despite its rustic food and northern Italian concept.

Starting at the bar here, too, we found a mediocre list of cocktails but a better wine list. I take issue with cocktail menus that go too far to please all tastes; case in point at North were examples like their "Sangria Rosso" and "Tuscan Margarita." Better would have been to have some actual Italian cocktails... why not a Negroni or Bellini on the list? Birthday boy Tyson ordered a Valente for $9 which was an interesting mix of rye whiskey, red bell pepper, basil, lemon juice and honey. He liked it but didn't seem to love it, the bell pepper seeming to have been an eye grabber but not actually prevalent in the taste of the drink.

What I like about the wine list is that North offers it by the glass, terzo (individual carafe) or bottle. When the table isn't up for sharing a bottle, terzos are a nice way to get an affordable second glass at a price slightly less than two full glasses of wine. And it's nice to be able to refill your own without worrying about offering it to the rest of the table first.

Our kind, attentive server came by and immediately set down a tiny saucer of olives--five in total. It seemed a little laughable to be given so few, bringing a humorous Oliver Twist-type expression to our faces. Regardless, being a party we were up for apps that night, so we set forth to pick out a few, ignoring the microscopic bowl of drupes.

The zucca (zucchini) chips were nice. Incredibly thin and loaded with salt, there was really nothing not to enjoy about them. And being zucchini instead of potato, they had a slight sweetness to their aftertaste I liked. Next up was an attractive wooden board lined with thin sheets of salami and topped with a pretty mixture of greens, provolone, roasted peppers and olives. It had nice Italian flavors and a good balance of briny saltiness against the earth, slightly bitter greens and their acidic vinaigrette. Of everything we had that night, this simple starter was the thing that stood out as my favorite.

Last starter was, what else, friend calamari. It seems to be a trend for restaurants these days to claim their calamari is a cut above the rest. The message has apparently gotten through that lighter, less breaded, less fried calamari is preferable to that of a few years ago which was all-too-often indistinguishable from a Church's chicken tender. North apparently had gotten the memo, too. Their calamari was indeed lightly breaded and fried and I was appreciative of the lemony bed of arugula on which it was served. Revelatory, no, but quite good and I'd recommend it to those who enjoy calamari and haven't tired of it yet.

Lots of restaurants feature a selection of pizza, even if not claiming to be a full-on pizzeria. North does so with an added bit of legitimacy being an Italian restaurant. I was interested to try their take on it, always craving a good, authentic Italian pie. Their style is a cracker-thin crust which I didn't hate but seemed a little disappointing. I had just recently tasted something very similar at Seasons 52, listed on their menu as "flatbread," which seems more apt of a name. My selection was the roasted mushroom variety which was too sparsely topped with mushrooms and I guess some onions though there were barely any. I appreciate when a pizza isn't overly-laden with toppings but there was little flavor on this one and I was left wanting.

Elizabeth's entree was quite nice--a pretty bowl of spaghetti with succulent, plump, juicy shrimp, delightful brussels sprouts and cubes of butternut squash in a creamy brown butter sauce. By the time I gained the courage to request a bite, it was somewhat cold, but even then I enjoyed it. I salivated over its simplicity and undeniable richness.

Tyson had the ambitious braised beef short rib dish, a big hunk of meat sitting atop a white pile of polenta, garnished with cooked veg. I refrained from trying any as this was his big day and there's something exceedingly enjoyable about eating every last bite of one's own meal. It looked tasty enough, the meat, though, clearly fatty. And after dissecting it for a few minutes with a fork, I ascertained that it was not the best piece of meat he'd ever consumed. He said as much after finishing, noting that it wasn't bad, per se, but hadn't wowed him, either.

In the end, we all felt a little "meh" about the meal. It was all fine, with a few high points (the salami/greens starter and pasta dishes) but the low-lights of the menu, somewhat high price and distinguishable chain restaurant characteristics had us agreeing it was likely a one-and-done place for us.

Italian cuisine is about simple dishes that feature the freshest, seasonally inspired ingredients. Few chains can pull off that kind of food. The food at North wasn't bad, but it certainly wasn't hitting home runs, either. KC is loaded with Sicilian-inspired Italian-American red sauce and garlic restaurants. I hoped North would be a successful foray into a more old-world Italian experience. It doesn't fail at its task but I wouldn't recommend its fish/meat dishes over Il Centro or its pizza over even Spin.

Rating: one napkin

Coal Vines: One and Done

Restaurant: Coal Vines
Location: 616 Ward Parkway (Plaza)
Food: Pizza, Italian
Service: Traditional waitstaff
Atmosphere: Trendy, cheesy
Price: Apps $6-$10; Pizzas $13-$17, Entrees $12-$15
Rating: One Napkin

Every now and then a good night's sleep leads to a point of clarity upon awakening. After sleeping on my first trip to Coal Vines last night, I had one such moment waking up today. It was this simple assessment: Coal Vines is the type of restaurant that was clearly started by businessmen looking to make a buck.

One look at the safe, small menu, a glance around at the decor and the second that crooner music registered above the roar of the dining room noise it was obvious that every decision made in the creation of the restaurant was geared toward pleasing the masses and maximizing "dollaric intake."

Coal Vines has one of the safest menus I've come across in quite some time. It's a pizza joint, dressed up in man-7's and a hundred dollar shirt from Nordstrom. There's just nothing original going on here. Apps like bruschetta, mozzarella sticks and fried calamari. Six pizzas, a couple of them white. Entrees like salmon, roasted chicken and a few pastas. Two sandwiches, chicken parm and.. oh wait, the second one is also chicken parm, but with tomato, onion and arugula added called, get this, The Godfather.

I can just hear the conversation that led to this restaurant concept: "You know what people like? They like fried calamari, pizza and Frank Sinatra." But here's the thing: that statement is absolutely, undeniably, 100 percent true. It's a proven business model.

Coal Vines was still packed when we arrived around 9:30. It was dark and warm inside with a lot of noise--clinking of glasses, banging in the kitchen and a loud hum of laughter and conversation; it was the type of greeting that makes one feel safe about his/her restaurant decision. It told the brain that it was in a successful, popular place where people want to be and are enjoying themselves.

We were taken by a polite host to our seat at the far east end of the restaurant, under the massive mural of those cliched crooners, Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra. For what it was, the mural was attractive enough - black and white, lit with spotlights reminiscent of the ones those two lived under during their working days - but I've had all the Martin and Sinatra I can stomach in Italian restaurants. They're played out. I shuddered slightly each time I looked up at them.

After an initial glance at the menu, we decided to embrace the cliches and ordered up the mesclun salad, fried calamari and a pizza. Why not review the food that the majority of Coal Vines customers will also get?

Lest readers think I'd written off the place based on my personal restaurant snobbery, I'll come right out and say all the food was good. The salad greens were lightly coated in the bacon vinaigrette. What it lacked in apples (each half had just two wafer-thin slices) and montrachet (two tiny dollops) it made up for with sweet, tangy cranberries. The calamari was nice and lightly fried, the rare kind of fried food of which I could eat lots. And the pizza, a 14-inch, thin crusted pie with red sauce, sausage and roasted red peppers, was meaty and delicious. New York-influenced, the slices were huge, almost begging to be folded Brooklyn style. Then again, it reminded me that I've had better pizza served to me on a paper plate on a street corner in Manhattan for $3.50. But it was good and I ate much of it.

We washed it all down with a sugary-sweet Coppola pinot which, at $35, was a little overpriced. The wine list was chock-full of grocery store names, including several Jacob's Creek selections I'd be remiss not to point out are often available at Sunfresh in Westport for as little as $4.99, normally on sale for $6.99. There is a list of Private Cellar selections ("Bad Boys at a Good Price"), but they, too, are mega-popular labels like Silver Oak, Chateau St. Jean, Trefethen and Cakebread. Spin!, quite honestly, has a more inspired and reasonably priced wine selection. With a name that nods to wine, Coal Vines ought to step up their wine game.

I left Coal Vines happy enough about the food I ate (note, they serve brunch, too, which from the sounds of Charles Ferruzza's review is a poorly done attempt to carry over the business RE:verse used to bring it at that time of day), but without motivation to return. It's a perfectly enjoyable restaurant that will appease picky, unadventurous eaters (read: the lemmings who pile into chains all across the country), but that's not what I seek out with my dining dollars.

Still, its business savvy owners should feel satisfied; I'm sure it will make plenty of money.

Rating: one napkin

Carollo's: This Is Where To Get A Sandwich

Restaurant: Carollo Gourmet Grocery & Deli

Location: 9 East 3rd, City Market, KC MO

Food: Gourmet Italian market, meats & sandwiches

Service: Walk-up counter

Atmosphere: More market than restaurant

Price: Sandwiches $5-$7

Rating: two napkins

If you don’t have a favorite sandwich in KC yet, it’s time to go to Carollo’s.

This little Italian foodstuffs and sandwich shop in the River Market has been quietly pumping out one of the best in town for years now, and it has become my absolute favorite.

This sandwich – like all good sandwiches – is simple in its preparation, but made perfect through the right combination of delicious ingredients. Here’s what I’m talking about: it’s the #1 sandwich on the list of six on Carollo’s old fashioned plastic lettered menu boards—The Napolitano. Isn’t anything labeled Napolitano delicious?

A huge Farm to Market roll (seriously, huge) is piled high with savory, top quality Italian meats including capocollo, salami, prosciutto and provolone cheese. Then come shredded lettuce and sliced tomato. Now here’s the trick to taking the sandwich to epic levels of enjoyment: one must request peppers, as well. Hot or sweet, either are fine. And the more the better. Neither are too hot or too sweet, but they add just enough spice, and a delicious vinegary zip that will blow the mind. It all gets dressed with more olive oil to bind and soften, wrapped up in butcher paper and dropped into the customer's hands with the most satisfying of thuds.



I’m sure a sandwich just like this is what Michelangelo brought in his lunch pail every day while painting the Sistine Chapel.

Carollo’s boasts a few other delicious Italian sandwiches (the #4 with mozzarella, basil and tomatoes is, not surprisingly, also incredible—and if basil isn’t fresh or in season, they’ll sometimes substitute the fresh stuff for delicious pesto). They also have a list of Philly Cheesesteaks and when weather permits, they run a grill outside the store and cook up their delicious sausages, as well as hot dogs and burgers.

The few dine-in seats available.

Among the shelves of imported Italian goods, there are a few tables with benches where lunch friends can stay to eat, but for me, it doesn’t matter where I consume this sandwich. Once I tear open that oil-soaked paper and get a whiff of those peppers and meats, my mind escapes to some little Italian corner of heaven and I temporarily lose my connection with this earth.

Sandwiches are funny things. Many just don’t care much for them, or can only picture anemic slices of turkey slapped on grocery store bread when they hear the word.

But others, like me, have an insatiable affinity for sandwiches, considering them the most estimable of foods.

My message to those not in the sandwich loving category: you just need to go to Carollo’s.

Rating: two napkins

A Good Bloody at Blue Grotto

Restaurant: Blue Grotto

Location: 6324 Brookside Plaza, KC MO

Food: Brunch, lunch and dinner w/ Italian flare

Service: Normal waitstaff

Atmosphere: Charming. Features wood fire oven.

Price: Brunch entrees $6-$10, Drinks for $3

Rating: Two napkins

Word is slowly getting out that Blue Grotto, the tasteful Italian/wood-fired pizza restaurant in Brookside, serves a mighty fine brunch—and $3 breakfast cocktails to boot.

We made the trip a couple weeks ago after waking up on a cold weekend morning and thinking brunch near a warm hearth with a bit of alcohol in our bellies would be a great way to ease our way into the frigid day.



There were several folks at the bar when we arrived, each keeping to him or herself and reading a newspaper. Perhaps these were the worst of the hangovers BG was helping nurse that morning. A few other diners were seated in the main sections of the restaurant and a few more trickled in after we were seated. It wasn’t busy, but it wasn’t depressingly slow, either.

We were led to the quaint and scenic upstairs loft area, which gave us a great view of the centrally located open-air kitchen below, where a chef busied himself amid breakfasty ingredients. Being picky about seats, we were quite pleased.

We’d been to Blue Grotto before and found their pizza to be one of the best in the city, if not comparable to the best Napolitano pizzas in bigger cities across the country. But brunch was of particular interest to me because though its dishes often are so similar, the quality can vary so widely. Would Blue Grotto be the soggy, watery and unripe type? Or would it be among those that stand above?

The first advantage of Blue Grotto’s brunch is that it is not a buffet. No Styrofoam eggs tasting of metal chafing dishes. No sterno-burnt pancakes or overly greasy, soggy bacon inadvertently poached in its own rendered grease. All the dishes appeared to come straight out of that stone oven that ascends from the back of the kitchen on the ground floor all the way up to the ceiling, infusing the dishes placed inside with beautiful wood fire scent.

After giving our orders, we were brought our $3 – yes, $3 – drinks: a bloody mary for me and a mimosa for Elizabeth. The bloody came in a boulevard pint glass with a wedge of lime and spear of three pimento-stuffed green olives. Plenty of girth to appease my rumbling stomach. It was perfectly done, spicy but not too spicy, thick but not too thick. No huge chunks of garlic of horseradish to chomp, which I find a little off-putting at that hour of the day… in a drink. I honestly can’t claim to have had a better bloody mary ever. Mimosas tend to be uniform, but this one was at least served in a pretty tall glass. It, too, hit the spot.

Service was quite slow. There only appeared to be one server but from our bird’s eye point of view, we saw both the chef and the bartender roll their eyes and complain to each other about her performance while we were there. We became slightly agitated with the wait but our food came before we ever came close to complaining. Those who are apt to complain, though, may have done so. Still, she was friendly and we were quite content to sip our delicious beverages as we shook off the cobwebs.

The menu is in a small state of flux as told to us by our server. Currently they list things like Panne Fratau, Pizza Benedict, Omelet, Quiche, B&G, Corned Beef Hash, French Toast and Granola. I ordered a staple, the Biscuits and Sausage Gravy. Elizabeth ended up choosing the Omelet.

I can’t say there was anything exceptional about the B&G, except that it was B&G, which, to me, is always exceptional. I would marry a plate of biscuits and sausage gravy if I could. In fact, I made a point of making B&G with my brother on the morning of my wedding as a sort of “last breakfast” before taking the plunge. And those B&G were comparable to the ones at Blue Grotto.

The biscuits were delicious – a brown crusty exterior protecting a light, fluffy interior. Certainly seemed to be made from scratch. The gravy seemed a little lacking in sausage flavor somehow, though I think I like an unusually high proportion of meat in my sausage gravy.

Elizabeth’s omelet surprised me. It was the best-cooked omelet I’d ever had (hopefully the photo of it here shows that), which is to say that it wasn’t at all overcooked. So often an omelet is overdone on the outside – airy and dry - with uncooked, watery ingredients inside. This one, filled with artichokes, peperonata and asiago cheese, was uniformly correct in its doneness and such a pleasure to eat. The savory artichokes and peppers were just right for that “I’m not breakfast but I’m not lunch” meal.

Being honest, the cubes of herbed breakfast potatoes on the side were terrific, too. So much flavor from the freshly chopped herbs. The salad on the side was a total throwaway – just lettuce and a little vinaigrette. Something a little more inventive could have been better paired with the dish.

Each of us received a ramekin of fruit on the side – cantaloupe and red grapes. They weren’t especially great, but requisite, I guess.

And so it was, in the end, a satisfactory brunch, indeed. There are more inspired options in town, but if a breakfast cocktail is on your mind, Blue Grotto gets a big leg up on the competition. That bloody mary was a standout.

Rating: two napkins

Pandolfi's Puts Some Italian Back in Columbus Park

Restaurant: Pandolfi's Deli

Location: 538 Campbell St., KC MO

Food: Good quality Italian deli

Service: Friendly. No waitstaff. Walk-up counter.

Atmosphere: Clean. Polished.

Price: $7 - $8 sandwiches

Rating: One Napkin

Our ugly black Kitchen Aid non-French-door-style refrigerator held nothing of value to my lunch needs on Friday last week when I peered in to grab something before heading to work (hate that fridge), so round about 11:00, I did a cattle call for other lunch-trippers at the office.

Failing to persuade any compatriots to leave the office (did I forget to wear deodorant or something?), I decided to take advantage of my freedom and check out a new place in Columbus Park that had been on my radar for a while - Pandolfi's Deli.



New is actually a relative term. Pandolfi's has a history in Liberty, MO, where they opened in 2002, but then sold to Sorella's in '04. Given its own rich Italian heritage, Columbus Park seems the perfect new locale for this clearly Italian-themed sandwich shop. Pandolfi's should make a nice compliment to the more formal sit-down style Garozzo's, but, as I found on this trip, could prove tough competition for dive-y La Sala's. Time will tell.

What I could tell in my quick trip to Pandolfi's is that they're doing a solid business both in terms of sales and quality of product. When I arrived at about 11:45, the dining room and tables out front were more than half full with customers in corporate attire who'd driven over from their downtown offices. If the word has already spread among that crowd that Pandolfi's is worth the trip, they're golden (especially since the crowds at Happy Gillis overwhelm their small seating capacity on a daily basis and Pandolfi's could make for a nice overflow option).

Ordering is the usual deli-style walk up cashier style. No wait staff. That's not a knock on the service, though. Owner Jake Hendershot manned the register on my trip and made an obvious effort to be friendly, quick and personable, memorizing everyone's names and calling them out when their orders were ready. Several customers, apparently regulars, walked up to the counter just to visit with Jake, who always obliged while also helping prepare the food.

Service was a bit slow, but there wasn't much of a line, so the vibe coming from Jake and the kitchen was one of "relaxe, enjoy yourself. Your food will be done soon enough and we're going to make sure it's up to our standards." I'm good with that approach as long as they're able to respond to crowds during crunch time.

Prices proved a little steep. I plunked down over $8.00 for my #8 (guest's choice) with salami, provolone and olive tapenade. It was a big sandwich to be sure, but my internal restaurant comparison computer immediately paired that against Carollo's even larger sandwich which comes in the $6 price range and I couldn't help but think Pandolfi's was shooting a little too high.

The ingredients, though, may justify the cost. Pandolfi's boasts Boar's Head deli meats and fine cheeses, too. No cheap stuff. The bread is a nice Italian roll, not too soft, but not too hard. And the olive tapenade made for the perfect dressing on this sandwich - salty, briny, and with just enough olive oil to further soften the bread for ideal texture in every bite. That tapenade alone will bring me back.

The rest of the menu is standard for an Italian deli - salads, soups like past e fagioli, desserts including biscotti, chocolate chip amaretto brownies and delicious-looking cannoli. And I love that pellegrino and Izze sodas are available by the bottle.

Overall, I'd call Pandolfi's a good Italian deli with touches that give it a leg up on the competition. I'll still be going to Carollo's when there aren't many dollars in my pocket, but this won't be my last trip to Pandolfi's.

Rating: One Napkin

Lidia In Her Prime: At Home

We foodies who are not of Italian heritage all wish, deep down, that we had an Italian mother... for the food. Great home made meals are always the best and each nationality and culture has its gems. But if I had to choose a genre of mom's home cooking to grow up enjoying, rather than having been born into it, I'd definitely go Italian.


Hand-made pasta. Great seafood. Such simple cuisine that, arguably, does the best job of any type of cuisine in the world of highlighting the freshness and simplicity of its ingredients as opposed to morphing them into something they are not. That's what Italian cooking is to me.


Kansas City has lots of Italian restaurants and its most well known Italian restauranteur is Lidia Bastianich, whose crossroads diner, Lidia's, I reviewed in one of my first-ever postings for Napkins. I was disappointed then and have returned at least three times since that review, leaving each time with varied levels of disappointment.


The trick to Lidia's, I've stated, is to give in and go with the pasta trio sampler. The pastas are super-fresh, the variety is nice, and the ingredients are always simple, but classic and well executed. It just never disappoints. For whatever reason, despite being a fairly expensive place, the service is always borderline incompetent and detracts from the meal experience. And straying from the pasta sampler yields mixed results at best.


So last night, we brought Lidia's into the home, figuratively speaking, making one of Lidia's longstanding menu items: Sauteed Chicken with Olives, Capers and Roasted Lemons.

This is a delicious Italian meal that takes chicken and bathes it in a delicious, rich buttery sauce which is cut by the salty brine from the olives and capers and the bright citrus of the roasted lemons. It's amazing how each time I have it, I feel like I'm eating something set before me at a restaurant. It just has that restaurant-meal-feel about it.

INGREDIENTS

• 
  
• 1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling
• 2 lemons, sliced 1/4-inch thick
• Salt and freshly ground pepper
• Two 5-ounce bags baby spinach
• 2 tablespoons plain dry bread crumbs
• Four 6-ounce skinless, boneless chicken breast halves
• 1/4 cup all-purpose flour, for dusting
• 1/2 cup pitted green Sicilian or Spanish olives, sliced
• 2 tablespoons drained capers
• 1 cup chicken stock or low-sodium broth
• 3 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small dice
• 2 tablespoons chopped flat-leaf parsley

DIRECTIONS

• Preheat the oven to 375°. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Drizzle olive oil on the parchment, then arrange the lemon slices in a single layer. Drizzle the lemons lightly with oil and season with salt and pepper. Roast for about 20 minutes, until the lemons begin to brown around the edges.
• In a deep medium skillet, heat the remaining 1/4 cup of oil. Season the chicken with salt and pepper and dust with the flour, shaking off the excess. Cook the chicken over high heat, turning once, until golden, about 6 minutes. Add the olives, capers and stock and bring to a boil. Cook over high heat until the stock is reduced by about two-thirds, about 5 minutes. Add the roasted lemons, butter and parsley, season with salt and pepper and simmer just until the chicken is cooked through, about 1 minute.

I omitted the spinach preparation steps from her recipe above because for our meal, we did the spinach in a slightly dressed-up way. Here's how I did it:

John's Sauteed Spinach Recipe

INGREDIENTS

1 tbsp butter

1 tbsp olive oil

1 bag pre-washed spinach

1 Spanish or white onion, thinly sliced

2 cloves garlic, chopped

1/4 cup golden raisins

1/4 cup chicken stock

2 tbsp sherry cooking wine

3 tbsp toasted pine nuts

DIRECTIONS

Heat a large skillet over medium high heat. When melted, add the onion and let cook, stirring frequently, three minutes or until softened. Add the garlic and sautee until fragrant.  Add spinach and mix in with the onions with tongs. Once spinach begins wilting, push it to the side, exposing the hot part of the pan and add the broth, quickly mixing with the spinach so it absorbs. Add the sherry, raisins and pine nuts. Toss until well combined. Add salt and pepper to taste and serve immediately with the chicken.

We served our chicken on the side, but next time I'd do what the picture shows and put it on top (possibly omitting the raisins which are better when the spinach is eaten on its own), so the spinach can take on the flavors from the chicken and its sauce, and to keep it warm. Served on the side, it was tasty but cooled off pretty quickly. 

A short list of ingredients, bold Italian flavors, a clean, simple dish; just like my fictitious Italian mom used to make.

Limp Noodles (& Company)

The McDonald's on the corner of Jefferson and Nichols on the Plaza recently closed down and some time later, a new chain boasted its upcoming opening. Noodles & Company was its name.

I wasn't familiar with the place and when remarking to Elizabeth that I had found out its name, I distinctly remember adding, "I sure hope it's an Asian noodle place and not some kind of one-noodle-fits-all joint."

"Ew," she added. "I bet they just have a huge vat of overcooked spaghetti in the back and they just throw in some kind of sauce or topping depending on what you get."

Alas. We were pretty much right.

Elizabeth had to work late the other night and we didn't have any leftovers on hand for me to make. So I decided to find out what Noodles & Co was really all about and get some takeout. The menu boasts all types of noodles, not just one nationality. Choose from Asian, Mediterranean, American or "Customize-it".

I honed in on the "American" section for investigatory reasons, skeptical that America had made contributions to the noodle world noteworthy enough to warrant its own section on the menu. What would this be? Tuna noodle casserole? Close.

The only noodle dish on the American list that was actually what I would call American was Wisconsin Mac 'n Cheese. Noodles & Co, though, would like to credit the US of A for Stroganoff (Russian), Marinara and good ol' Spaghetti and Meatballs (Italian). Maybe even more ridiculous was the fact that "buttered noodles" was also listed on the menu. I mean - really? Do you even need to put that on the menu? If people want buttered noodles, they'll just ask if they can get plain buttered noodles. Listing it on the menu, though, conveys the idea that buttered noodles are some great recipe idea the restaurant came up with. As if they're saying, "we specialize in stroganoff, marinara and, oh, you should really try our house special - buttered noodles! You've never had anything like them." But, of course, you have. Everyone has.

Getting down to business, I jumped over to the Asian menu. I was in the mood for Asian and fearing their pad thai may be horrendous (bad pad thai can be really bad - too sweet, often), I opted for the Indonesian Peanut Saute. Let's start with the positives: the carryout packaging was sturdy and convenient, the portion was large but not ridiculously so, fresh lime wedges were provided as a garnish, to spritz over the top of the noodles, which I love.

Moving on. The bad: the lime was utterly and completely without juice. When I squeezed it over the top, it frayed and shredded, disintegrating into a pathetic rind with a strange explosion of fibrous pulp hanging from it and immediately reminding me of Clark Griswold cutting into the Christmas turkey which immediately deflated on the dining room table. Sick.

The toppings were a melange of the usual suspects: bean sprouts, broccoli and carrot sticks, which I am happy to say were all nice and crisp. Not overcooked. Lots of shredded cabbage was mixed through, and due to the terrarium effect caused by the tight lid trapping steam, its deep purple color washed out and spread itself into the noodles in a disconcerting way that made me wonder if it had been painted purple for faux freshness. The peanut sauce was detectable, but a little thin. I was given no condiments, and due to a low salt content, I felt it needed a little soy sauce. No hot sauce either, so I hit it with a few dollops of my own sambal oelek when I opened it up at home.

Peanuts were non-existent. None whatsoever. Luckily, I had those on hand, as well. So once I had incorporated my own peanuts, my own lime, my own sambal and my own soy sauce, it was ready to be eaten (oh, and I employed my own chopsticks, too - none provided).

The rice sticks (noodles) were overcooked. Quite mushy and falling apart. And the peanut sauce lacked depth, severely. Tasted like they had just mixed some peanut butter into the noodles which, when heated, became thin enough to coat the noodles like a sauce.

I'd opted to add chicken to mine, to test the quality of their meats. It was all-white meat, apparently pounded thin and then pan seared with a little flour dusting on it (I'm guessing this preparation is done because it works better with the Italian-style menu items and they're not into the idea of having to prepare chicken in more ways than one). There were no bad bites, but it was very bland, adding nothing but some protein to the dish. The fried tofu chunks I also found in my noodles were spongy and flavorless, as well, but that's kind of how fried tofu is.

Eventually I choked down the whole bowl, so apparently it wasn't the worst thing I'd ever eaten. But in the end I wish I had made the effort to run by the grocery store and pick up a few ingredients to make it myself instead of taking the lazy route and settling for mass-produced garbage.

While picking up, I also grabbed one of the large cookies sitting next to the register. Forced to choose between chocolate chip or snicker doodle, I went with snicker doodle just because I don't come across them as often, and I usually find them hugely delicious.

Shame on me for not noticing the specs of apple before arriving back at home. I was willing to keep an open mind about the apple, but one bite in, the disappoint swept over me. A snicker doodle isn't a snicker doodle with fruit in it. It's got to be simpler than that. Cookie batter, cinnamon and sugar on top. That's it. The apple made it taste like coffee cake - not what I wanted after my meal.

Pretty easy to rate this place. I won't go back unless forced to as a work lunch outing or something. If a McDonald's couldn't make it in this location, I don't expect that Noodles & Co. will. It's less convenient than McDonald's, has a higher cost of operation (they even have a liquor license!?!), and, despite trying to cover every type of noodle dish under the sun, probably has less mass-appeal as well. Those looking for any measure of quality would do better to walk a block east to Brio. Or buy a pack of Ramen Noodles - more authentic, more tasty, less expensive and you have the ability to ensure your noodles don't just turn into a big clump of mush.

Rating: zero napkins

Lidia's KC Ristorante Needs Loving Touch

The idea of going to Lidia’s always excites me.

The restaurant itself is a beautiful spectacle. If you haven’t ever been to any of the 3 restaurants in the old downtown rail yard south of the Crossroads district, you must go see. Mega-high ceilings and wide open dining rooms are warmed with natural wood beams and exposed brick walls, leaving room for unique, large-scale décor unlike anywhere else. I must warn you, however, tread lightly. A good visual experience here can turn into a bad dining one without proper guidance.

(Caveat: I’m going to start throwing some pretty nasty barbs here, so let me say up front that there is a crazy turn of events in the end of the review, so I plead that you hear me out and get through every last word. Thanks.)

City Tavern serves good oysters, if you can stand ‘em, but also pummels the wallet for otherwise mediocre American fare. (Since writing this, I think it may have gone out of business or announced that it would soon.)

Jack Stack is easily the city’s most overrated Bar-b-que now that KC Masterpiece has fallen from grace. The sides are fantastic (best beans money can buy), but the meat is fatty and less tender than at the cheaper, more endearing Bar-b-que shacks around town.

Lidia’s, however, may be guilty of the most ghastly blasphemy. It has become an Italian restaurant that lacks heart. I found this out on my most recent outing.

My recent visit was an embarrassment from beginning to end. When we first arrived, the entire restaurant was packed. There were business partners, dating couples, women’s knitting groups, all crowding around the bar, jammed into the waiting area, hovering around the host’s stand salivating. Our group of 5 was seated in a perfectly sized round table in the northwest end of the restaurant. I had the misfortune of being seated with my back to a main walking path between the rear quarters of the restaurant and the bar. This proved bothersome throughout the night, as it felt like I had been seated in the middle of I-70. I stopped counting how many times my chair was kicked by scurrying staff at six. Never was the disturbance acknowledged by the offender.

Boulevard Wheat, though shamefully overpriced ($5/draw when I could hit the brewery itself with a rock if I winged it from the Lidia’s parking lot?? Anything more than $4 is an insult), was fresh and cold enough to earn a passing grade. To my dismay, the “Wines by the glass” list was limited to one selection per varietal, and no vineyard names were indicated on the menu. Are we ashamed of our selections, Lidia’s? I’d at least appreciate some assurance that my “Chianti” was actually grown in Italy, please and thanks.

Our waitress came by in decent time to tell us about the “specialties” for the evening. We were only able to hear 50% of the list she rattled through without inflection or expression, as she continually turned her head to gaze across the dining room with disinterest mid-sentence. Ever watched the kids (or creepy 40 year old pedophiles) running the rides at Worlds of Fun as they recite passenger instructions on the megaphones? They’ve said the words so many times, they don’t actually have to engage their brain at all to go through their spiel. Our waitress must have done some time running the Fury of the Nile.

Beverage maintenance is always a good indicator of the level of service at a restaurant. Great service means prompt order taking, service, and refills. We ordered drinks immediately upon sitting. 30 minutes later, we flagged down our waitress A) for a glass of mystery “Chianti”, B) for more Wheats, C) to remind her the birthday girl in our party had yet to receive her Diet Coke.

The freebie appetizer at Lidia’s is a curious choice. Italian breads were logical. Seen ‘em a hundred times with a side of oil and vinegar. And I’ve seen hummus (or should I call it an Italiain bean puree in this case) before in this situation, but why? The combination of fiber-laden beans pureed with rich olive oil is deceptively heavy. Does it taste good? Absolutely. Does it fill the belly exponentially once swallowed? Apparently so. I had one piece of focaccia smothered in the stuff, washed it down with a slowly sipped beer and felt like I wouldn’t be hungry again until breakfast. If I were George Costanza, I’d go back to Lidia’s on a date, eat a few pieces of bread with the puree, have a side salad and call it a night, taking my entrée home in a doggie bag for tomorrow night’s dinner. Seriously – one could easily be full enough before ever getting to the main course here.

Two types of salads were ordered at our table – Arugula and Caesar. The “Insalata di Rucola con Gorgonzola” proved a mild success, though completely unoriginal. A generous bowl filled with spicy Arugula arrived with meager bits of gorgonzola and a zesty white wine vinegarette. The pears, of course, were hard and snapped like a radish when bitten. No surprises there. Demerits for sure.

The Caesar Salads were an abomination. All of the romaine in our 3 bowls was jaundice-yellow and could have been mistaken for old iceberg. Flecks of parmesan floating in the pools of dressing were wonderful but couldn’t tread fast enough to keep from drowning in the dressing. I’d bet serious money the gigantic bowl of pre-prepared salad from whence these came had been sitting out in the kitchen for 2 hours or more. Et tu, Brute?

We all tried the Papa al Pomodoro after our salads. Never before have I been so… perplexed… by a soup, of all things. Initially I was hit by the temperature (or lack thereof). It was luke warm minus 5 degrees. Visually, the appeal was there. It appeared to have nice chunks of tomato and garlic, was garnished with strips of fresh basil and had a gorgeous pillow of buffalo mozzarella resting in the middle. Flavor presented the second layer of perplexity. With all those chunks and that vibrant color, how could it have so little flavor? Obviously what I mistook for chunks of garlic were not garlic. They were pieces of mushy bread. Great idea, Italy – soggy ciabatta in a bowl of cool tomato soup served to starving people as a joke! Wait – nevermind. Did the seasoning or garnish help? Answers: it was not seasoned, and the basil garnish must have been tissue paper. All in all, I’ve had better experiences with tomato soup in a can of Always Save puree. (Note – if Papa al Pomodoro is a common Italian meal that’s usually made in this fashion, clearly I’m naïve to its existence. I will say, though, nothing passes my palette’s test with so little flavor. Nothing.)

Now on to a more serious matter – I have a crime to report. In the process of hurriedly clearing our table between salads and entrees, the busser stabbed me with a knife. I kid you not. No blood was drawn, but an apology might have been in order. Okay, he only brushed me with it, but he was wielding it so maniacally I did feel my comfort zone being violated. This certainly did not feel like fine dining.

I’ll work on the entrées individually…

Sea Bass sounded promising but disappointed greatly. Rustic went too rustic here. The unattractive, sauce-less filets of sea bass were laid out like skinned roadkill. They contained approximately the same amount of bone content as meat, and we’re not talking pork chops here, were talking flaky white fish with hundreds of sharp little quills in it. My companion spent most of her evening picking them out. Needless to say, after all that surgery, she wasn’t too hungry for her fish and she also needs a tetanus booster. Bad fish would have been more forgivable if she had a succulent side dish to fill in. Unfortunately, she had, instead, the (I say again) rustic presentation of lightly grilled whole onion, tomato and potato piled on the side of her plate. Look, I love grilled vegetables. But they need to be dressed with, if nothing else, some olive oil. This vegetation had none and the result was an extremely bland, cheap looking plate of grocery store produce.

Let me start in on my manicotti with two statements: 1) I make much better manicotti than what I was served at Lidia’s, and 2) I have made Manicotti twice in my life. We’re in dangerous territory here. In the manicotti, I was supposed to have “Tender egg pasta sheets, rolled around a filling of fresh ricotta and mozzarella cheeses, baked under a light tomato sauce, and topped with grated Parmigiano-Reggiano.” Tender egg pasta sheets? Good enough. Fresh ricotta and mozzarella cheeses? If you say so. Baked under a light tomato sauace? Whoah, whoah, whoah. I do recall a tinge of red, but there was no tomato actually on the pasta. It was a mere puddle of reddish bilge in the bottom of the boat in which the manicotti was served. This “sauce’ was thin and flavorless, at that. The parmesan topping on the egg pasta may have been the most glaring offense, however. Before baking, it must have stood 2 inches thick. After being cooked, it reduced to a molten casing and then at room temperature froze itself into an impenetrable canvas of oily plastic. The edge of my fork was useless in hacking through the protective coating. I really wish our waitress had refreshed the silverware at the table once it was cleared after we had been “appetized” so I’d had a knife to work with. Obviously, they were hiding the weapon so it couldn’t be used as evidence.

Nearing the conclusion of this review, one might expect that I’d end with an indicator that I’ll never again return to Lidia’s. Well, I hope you like surprises, my friend, because here’s one for you: I’d happily return to Lidia’s anytime. The atmosphere and visual appeal are magical there. Again, if you haven’t been yet, you must see it. The high ceilings, the light fixtures, the decorative wine bottles and huge windows, they all work together very nicely with a slight nod to that magical Kansas City of the 20’s when the best parts of town were constructed. You find it at Union Station, in the River Market, 39th street and in Hyde Park. And you find it at Lidia’s. Look, go there with friends, avoid the menu landmines and go straight to the $16 Pasta Tasting Trio. It’s the best all-you-can-eat buffet in town (it’s not really a buffet – servers show up table-side and provide heaping spoonfuls of whatever you’d like), and it tastes good enough that you won’t remember the anemic service. Do that once, and you’ll find yourself excited at the prospect of returning, too.

Rating: 1 Napkin