Thursday, October 13, 2011.
Del Porto.
Mary Leigh came home for fall break from classes, which is only two days long. Mary Ann is still bringing up the idea of going to New York with MA, but it's looking more and more like a lost opportunity than a viable scheme. To celebrate this homecoming, I remained home for the radio show, awaiting the decision as to where we will go for dinner.
I wasn't expecting Ristorante Del Porto to be the choice. Mary Ann's, of course. She seems to have given herself a day off from her weight-reduction crusade, perhaps as consolation for the loss of New York. Mary Leigh had not been to Del Porto, but was game. Her reluctance to try new places is waning.
It was a cool evening, and the white-topped tables on the sidewalk beckoned to the girls, both lovers of Al Fresco. That sacrifice on my part gave me permission to have a cocktail. I had a Negroni in mind, but a drink called The Journalist on the cocktail list caught my attention. Plymouth gin, white vermouth, bitters and lime juice sounded refreshing and was.
Every time I eat at Del Porto, I become more convinced that it's the best Italian restaurant of any kind anywhere in the metropolitan area. And that they make the best soups. This one was a fish and potato soup, a little creamy but not much. This was so much better than it sounds that I'm at a loss to explain why.
The Marys started with salads. A quarter-head of butter lettuce with blue cheese for ML (of course), and a mushroom salad for Mary Ann. The table rocked on an insecure base as the girls cut into the greens, but what does one expect out on a sidewalk?
We speculated abut the cool-looking, old, and currently empty Covington Hotel across the street. The structure begs for redevelopment. The only thing in there at the moment is Tugy's Bar, a half-block away from our table. Just today a guy called me on the radio saying that he was serving--for one night only--deep-dish pizza over there. I was tempted to go over there and get some, but the fellow was a little too pushy, and I don't want to encourage that.
The best entree here is the sirloin strip steak with double-cut roasted potatoes. That might seem a strange first choice in the best Italian restaurant in town, but the style here is decidedly Tuscan. And in Tuscany, they eat steaks with gusto. I would have ordered it were it not for the fact that it would make a full week of big dinners for me. But it was perfect for Mary Leigh's appetite. She ate about two-thirds of it, leaving just enough for me to get a generous taste of this first-class beef.
So I went after the gnocchi, made with a lusty reddish-brown sauce in a Bolognese style. This was superbly good, with the flavor of fall and the perfect texture in the potato-pasta dumplings.
Mary Ann--back to her dieting senses by mid-meal--ordered for her entree an antipasto platter. I ate some of it, but she's fooling herself if she thinks that's a light supper.
The girls were ready to go at dessert time, but they knew they owed me one for sitting out here with Al all night long without a complaint. The little dessert of biscotti and vin santo is something we almost never see in our Creole region of Italy. As the Italians do, I dipped the cookies into the sweet wine. But I had to. It's the only way I can take a bite out of a biscotto. My choppers aren't what they used to be.
Was I pushing my luck in having an espresso? Heck, no. I'm paying the bill.
Ristorante Del Porto. Covington: 501 E Boston St. 985-875-1006.
