Diary 7|23|2014: Seconds At Marcello's.

[title type="h5"]Wednesday, July 23, 2014. Marcello's, A Week Later. [/title] Driving my daughter's Audi, even though it's four years old, seems like real luxury compared with my ten-year-old, 197,000-mile PT Cruiser. The latter has a new tire in place, but I don't have time to pick it up from the shop and mount it. So it's another day with the Audi, making me think that maybe a new car is in my future. Mary Ann is on the South Shore too, and we meet for dinner at Marcello's again. I'm thinking that it's ready for a full review, bt when I talk to the owner I learn that they haven't reached the six-month mark yet. That's not a problem per se, but if I get the feeling that there are a few aspects of the place that aren't quite mature, I'll wait a little longer. I do, and I will. I have something wrong, myself. Last week's diary entry said that the father-and-son owners are also in the antique business. I had that wrong; it's the manager who has that connection. What is very clear is that Marcello's (here's a reminder that it's pronounced "Mar-CHELL-oh," in the Italian way) is having a honeymoon with local diners. Mary Ann expected to have her pick of tables, when in fact they are barely able to squeeze us in. [caption id="attachment_43211" align="alignnone" width="480"] Wine racks at Marcello's.[/caption] Once we're seated, two young women slide behind my chair, to get a better look at the wines on the rack next to our table. I stand up to let them investigate. This is one of Marcello's USPs (unique selling propositions, as the sales motivation world calls it). There's a wine list, but they invite you to pluck bottles from the rack to read the labels. I like starting up a conversation with the women. (Mary Ann has never shown the slightest hint of jealousy, but she knows I am so inept in relating to women that no harm could possibly come.) But I wonder if every guest feels the same way about the wine-rack thing. [caption id="attachment_43212" align="alignnone" width="434"] Eggplant and crabmeat: yum![/caption] First course: a stack of fried eggplant disks with very pretty jumbo lump crabmeat sandwiched in between. Very good, very generous. Crabmeat goes well with fresh tomato; tomato goes well with eggplant; we have a winner. That's for me. [caption id="attachment_43213" align="alignnone" width="480"] Lamb meatballs and polenta.[/caption] Mary Ann likes the idea of stuffed bell pepper soup, the zuppa del giorno. She follows that with a pair of lamb meatballs. That's strange. She has never shown an interest in lamb before. They sit atop polenta with a bit of red sauce. It's almost as good as my crab item. The third item to reach her is also from the dominion of the red sauces. A straightforward lasagne is baked individually, hot and bubbling, well balanced in its cheese, pasta, beef and sauce components. She cannot finish it, so I can tell the waiter that the reason she insists on packing the go-box herself is that this is her art medium. (It's true: a few months ago, one of her doggie boxes was in a show at the New Orleans Museum of Art.) [caption id="attachment_43215" align="alignnone" width="480"] Pappardelle pasta bolognese, undercooked lamb chops.[/caption] My entree tells me I need to hold back a few weeks before I write definitively. The waiter and I have a deep discussion as to the doneness of my lamb chops. Although I eat a lot of rare and raw meat, there is no reason to believe that all meats are best done rare. My taste in lamb is medium, with a rosy center. What comes out is very red and cool. Ordinarily, I would have sent it back for an adjustment, but it was so soaked with red sauce that I thought it would take a burn. And MA was nudging me along, having already directed that I skip dessert. The waiter, without my having to ask, saw the rareness of the lamb and asked whether I wanted it grilled some more. Not once, but twice. Can't complain about him. The lamb winds up in the go-box, but I was not unhappy. The better part of this dish was pappardelle pasta with an exemplary Bolognese sauce, riddled with chunks of various meats in a well-cooked red sauce. This is the best dish I've eaten here, and the best bolognese anything I've had outside of the Romagna region of Italy itself. One thing is for certain: Marcello's is a productive new annex to the local Italian cooking world, different enough to be exciting, but not so odd that it fails to show its provenance. [title type="h5"]Marcello's. CBD: 715 St. Charles Ave. 504-581-6333. [/title]