Thursday, March 4. Tello's. A brisk, cold wind blew during my search for dinner. Evenings like this make me reluctant to go to any restaurant that a) requires a long walk or 2) has a single door that allows cold drafts to blow through the dining room. Even as I write this I know it makes me sound unmanly. Dr. Oz says that men are built to withstand discomfort, and that we should indulge in it now and then. But I think winter has got under my skin, and I avoid it when I can.
I wound up at Tello's, the restaurant owned by the family that operates Frankie and Johnny's and Zeke's. Late last year, it took over the former location of the closed Anselmo's. The new proprietors performed a much-needed renovation of the restaurant, and wisely moved the entrance from the bar to the dining room. The old bar was pretty seedy, and often was populated by matching customers, not creating a welcoming first image for families.
As my gaze swept around the room in search of the table with the brightest illumination, the man at the only occupied table in the room voiced my name. He said his name was Scott, and that he came to one of our Eat Club dinners. He may have, but after sixteen years of weekly dinners with lots of new people every week, it's been a long time since I recognized everybody who's been with us. He didn't seem offended, because he asked me to join him. Why not? We'd be talking to each other across the room if I didn't.
Scott's wife knew the owners, and was about to introduce me when I shook that idea off. That danger past, Scott said he was in the home remodeling business. His daughter--who is soon to be married--was also with them. They'd already ordered, so I hustled up and chose some fried calamari and crabmeat-stuffed mezzaluna pasta from what seemed a short and unexciting menu to me.
Scott said that he heard my WWL show this past Saturday, and that he disagreed with me about several matters, which he outlined. They were things I've heard many times before, and were well within the margin of differing personal taste. I think one of them was my dislike of hot muffulettas. I know that opinion puts me in the minority, but it would be amazing if anyone didn't have a few tastes that were off the mainstream.
The calamari arrived. They were overfried but reasonably edible, and came in a portion more than big enough for all to share. A salad course inspired nothing much to say one way or the other.
In the entree course, everyone had pasta. The most interesting dish was panneed veal with crabmeat, although once again the veal was fried a minute or so too much, and was too dark and too stiff as a result. The pasta was the best part of it, and the best pasta on the table. The bride-to-be had wide fettuccine with shrimp, which she said was good enough for her liking. The worst dish was mine. Mezzaluna ("half-moons" in Italian; below) looked sort of like flattened Chinese-style dumplings, and may well have been made on the premises. But they were too thick and a little glutinous, and the cheese filling didn't help. The buttery sauce tasted a touch sweet to me, but overwhelming that and everything else was a garlic component that was way out of control. Not good.
I ordered the only dessert. (The ladies at the table clearly watch their weight.) I couldn't pass up what I thought was a clever idea: a cannoli napoleon. Instead of stuffing a tubular cannoli shell with the sweetened ricotta, they made chips out of the same dough, fried it, and layered it out. It might have been a success if only the chips had not been a good deal overfried, to the point of bitterness. At least they're consistent.
Scott thought of one more thing he disagreed with me about, and once again I can't remember what it was. I paid my share of the bill and pointed my bridge-crossing craft into the cold north winds.
Tello's Bistro. Metairie: 3401 N Hullen 504-324-4440.
