Chef Boyardee Wouldn't be Caught Dead...

When I first conceptualized this blog, I imagined reviews spanning all across the board for restaurants and concerts. Then as I got to writing I realized that if a restaurant is poor or sub-par at best, I naturally would have very little to say about it therefore dismissing the idea of a post altogether. Regardless, the reviews I do post will hold little credibility if it seems as though every place I eat at is superb and the site will loose its usefulness if I'm not pointing out what places you should avoid. And so alas, my first warning of many in the world of Columbus dining reviews:

'Mom & Pop' places are usually a pretty safe bet. They have that homemade cooking element and family service vibe in a world of chain restaurants. I'm reminded of Pasta Mia, a family owned Italian restaurant in the Adams Morgan neighborhood of Washington, DC. This place holds maybe forty diners at a time causing for people to line up outside hours before it even opens. I've done this several times with friends, drinking from paper bags outside in the rain and cold, waiting for it to open. Once in, we were treated to a basic listing of pasta options, all amazingly delicious, and accompanied with large carafes of the house red or white. We were always served by the same woman who recognized our faces and would greet us in Italian while her husband single-handily ran the kitchen.

On the complete opposite side of the spectrum is the Monte Carlo Italian Kitchen in Westerville (Schrock & Cleveland Ave). A friend of mine raved about this place for so long that I had to go with her to see what the buzz was about. I should have considered at the time that her favorite food is frozen french bread pizza from Stouffer's and Chicken McNuggets, no sauce. If you like factory food without any flavor or flair, then I can see why you might love the Monte Carlo.

We were immediately seated at a small table with torn and wobbly chairs. We were the only people there except for the two families with small children in high-chairs surrounded by scraps of food on the floor. (Here is where I must interject with a note to parents: If you want to take your toddler out to dinner, by all means, go for it... it's good training in manners, but be considerate of the other patrons; keep the screaming at a minimum and get your kids food off the floor. If you aren't going to tend to them then don't bring them and don't even think about leaving a mess behind for your server to pick up. I've seen this many times and each time I'm equally appalled.) I glance around at the mix and match of random posters around the dining room and the 9/11 shrine in the corner. I feel like I'm in Long Island. Ronkonkoma to be exact. I go over my menu and immediately decide on the gnocchi with the tomato sauce that comes with a small house salad. Our server brings out the bread; three rolls with that light dusting of fake flour on top to prevent them from sticking to one another in the bag that they come in and packets of butter. I pass on the crusty roll. Next up is my salad; a handful of iceberg lettuce with two olive slices and a packet of bleu cheese dressing. Seriously? And now for the gnocchi; not even thoroughly cooked meaning that there's no way it's homemade, with canned tomatoes on top. At this point I was just pissed. I had just wasted my time and money on something that my belligerent college roommate could have topped with a hotpot, a can of Spaghetti-O's, and some carrot sticks.

I didn't say much out of fear of offending my friend, but the dinner conversation was definitely hampered by my quiet discontent. She loves the food, but she also likes everything plain, avoids vegetables at all cost, and relishes in fried foods. Now don't get me wrong... anyone who has ever been to my house knows I always have at least one can of Spaghetti-O's in my pantry and they are my ultimate comfort food, but it's also cheap, convenient, out of can, and one-hundred times more tasty than Monte Carlo. Just because you are Irish, doesn't mean you have to open up a bar, and just because you are Italian doesn't mean you have open up a cucina, but if you must, please don't pretend that it's from the homeland. Last time I checked, Sysco was based out of Houston.