It’s our last night in Bellagio. We’ve had our eye on one particular restaurant since the first day we got here. Now we’re trying to get in for dinner without having a reservation. I’ve explained our situation in my best italian to a big, serious-looking gentleman in a black suit who was standing at the door. He’s looking over his big, black reservation book, mulling over whether or not he’s going to find a table for us.
He looked down at his book. Then he looked at us. Then back at the big reservation book. He seemed to be thinking it over. Then he came back over to where we were standing and said yes, he had a table available.
We’re In!
This was the neatest little restaurant. It was small, cozy, and comfortable. It occupied the second floor of a building on a narrow Bellagio side-street. Two sides of the dining room were filled with windows. Big, wooden shutters were open all the way, so it was like being outside on a patio, but more intimate.
The Maître D, who I’ll call “Mr. Serious,” showed us to a table. We were the first customers of the night. There were only two people working there to take care of everyone – Mr. Serious and a waitress.
Shortly after we were seated, Mr. Serious brought us menus. He and I started talking, half in english and half in italian. I asked him questions about what he recommended. He explained some of the items on the menu. We were the only customers in the place, so he had time to help us out. Before we knew it, the three of us were joking around.
After a while, we figured out that Mr. Serious was only “Mr. Serious” when he wanted to be. Pretty soon the waitress came over, and we started chit-chatting with her, too, also half in english and half in italian. We ordered a bottle of wine and settled in as the place quickly filled up with customers.
Il Primo Piatto
For “il primo piatto” – the first course — we decided on mushroom risotto for two. We’ve seen risotto on lots of menus around here. It’s usually offered only for two or more because it’s labor-intensive to prepare, and it’s usually made fresh when someone orders it.
Bellagio is in Lombardia, in northern Italy. Lombardia is “rice country.” I never thought of Italy as a big rice producer, but it is, and almost all of Italy’s rice comes from this region.
To prepare risotto, they might start by sautéing garlic and shallots, then adding arborio rice, just to get the grains coated with oil. Then a little vino goes in. Then half of a cup or so of hot chicken stock.
The cook has to have two pots on the stove – one for risotto and one for stock. Arborio rice grains are like little sponges. They suck up liquid like crazy and get plump as they do.
In a few minutes, the rice absorbs the stock, so the cook ladles in a little more. He’ll keep adding stock, little by little, until the rice can’t absorb any more liquid. Then the risotto will start to get creamy. Probably time to add some butter, maybe, and maybe some other goodies. Finish with parmesan.
“No Good!”
While our risotto was being prepared, we had quite a few opportunities to chat with Mr. Used-to-be-Serious and the waitress. Mr. Used-to-be-Serious turned out to be a lot of fun. The waitress was very nice, too.
As far as we could tell, they were the only two people, other than the cook, taking care of the whole restaurant. Even though they were busy, they still managed to spend quite a bit of time with us. They made us feel like we were their special guests.
People at a table nearby were having something that looked really good. I asked Mr. Used-to-be-Serious what they were having. He told us what it was. Then he scrunched up his face and said, “No good. Worst thing on the menu.” Ha ha!
As we got better acquainted over the course of the evening, we established that two of Mr. Used-to-be-Serious’ favorite words were “No” and “Good,” spoken in that order, usually accompanied by some head-shaking and appropriate facial expressions.
Ah…. Risotto
Our risotto arrived in a magnificent copper serving tray resting on its own little table. Mr. Used-to-be-Serious mixed in sautéed mushrooms and parmesan tableside with a subtle air of showmanship. The waitress held the bowls as he dished it out. They were a team.
I wish I had taken a picture of that copper serving set-up. It was beautiful. But I don’t like to be too indiscrete with the camera when we’re in a restaurant. I did get a shot of the risotto, though, (at the top of this post). I guess there’s no need to mention that the risotto was pretty tasty. Whenever the dish you’re eating makes you float up off the chair, it’s pretty tasty.
It’s at times like these that we look at each other and say something like, “This is why we come to Italy!”
To be continued…
