Ristorante Renato

Friday, February 11th

I was in the mood for some really great Italian food. I wish I could report that it was great. I even wish I could say it was good. I can say that the Cono Sur Pinot Noir was good, and the unnamed cabernet was enjoyable enough, but let me start at the beginnning...

I was joined by friends, so once again, the whole "Party of One" thing is a big fat lie. But, I am very happy that I had witnesses to this epic culinary tragedy. It would have been far too depressing to have gone through alone.

We came two by two...Our reservations were for 7:30 but we were a few minutes late. I was afraid that Ristorante Renato wouldn't hold our reservations, but when we arrived, I was pleased to find that our friends had secured the table. We settled in at a very small, crowded booth, enjoyed some wine and conversation, we relaxed and I was looking forward to dinner. We were served a basket of bread and B was on it like he'd forgotten to eat all day long. Joy and bliss...there was real butter. That's nearly the only prop I'll give this place. The waiter came and I realized that I apparently have an addiction to calimari, so I ordered that. It was fresh and Renato's clearly breaded it there, but served it in thick rings. This is purely personal opinion, but I much prefer thinner, crispy calimari rings, as they seem to be more tender and less chewy than thicker pieces. Unlike La Petite Auberge, Renatos served the spidery tentacles. Sadly, they looked nice and crispy, but reminded me of deep fried baby tarantulas... so I just couldn't bring myself to eat them. The side of marinara sauce was unmemorable, and not flavorful enough to even add any taste to the calimari.

Our salads arrived a short time later. Now, when I say salads, what I MEAN to say is that we were served a few pieces of lettuce, a slice of tomato and some salad dressing. It wasn't a salad so much as a burger topping. No onion, no cucumber, no shredded carrots... not even a crouton. Can you toss me a crouton? B just ate all the bread. Work with me, people.

Dear Renatos: Lettuce and tomato a salad does not make. Work on that, please.

Now, a really good marsala sauce can perform miracles. It can make a bad day better, it can transform a boring piece of chicken or veal into a succulent, delicious, satisfying meal, and if prepared properly, it can even render me speechless for a short period of time. I'm telling you...Miracles. Thing is, marsala sauce isn't that difficult. A little butter, some good Marsala wine, a little cream. Done right, its the stuff dreams are made of. At Renatos? Not so much. The chicken was pounded thin, but the sauce was lacking. It was very sweet, and a little too thick as if it had been prepared and left sitting on a counter for a bit before it was brought to our table. I had a side of string beans, which were all right. Yes, I ate the chicken and whined a little with each bite, but mostly because I know I can do a much better marsala sauce at home. K ordered veal scaloppine. In case some of you aren't familiar with this dish, here's the wikipedia definition:  "(a small scallop, i.e. a thinly sliced cut of meat) Scallopine is an Italian dish consisting of thinly sliced meat (most often veal, although chicken may also be used) that is dredged in wheat flour, sautéed, then heated and served with a tomato-, or wine-sauce...."  Thinly sliced. Sauteed. Yum. Scaloppine is famous for being tender, thin and light. Well... my dining partner needed a steak knife. On the other side of the table, A ordered the server-recommended special, which was rockfish served with shrimp and scallops in some kind of sauce. We were all tempted by that option, but pretty thankful only one plate of it was delivered. It was a small portion of rockfish, served with two medium shrimp and two scallops. I tried a scallop... it was tender, but very fishy tasting. B ordered a trusty Italian standby: chicken parmesan. Again, it was a small portion, heavily sauced and although I didn't taste the sauce myself, was told it was reminescent of Prego. The presentation of all dishes (aside from the lack-luster salads) was pleasant although the portions were small, and we all agreed that the food was mediocre at best.

Our server was adequate. He was nice enough and seemed very busy, but we weren't in a rush, so it was ok. There was a table next to us that was louder and more obnoxious than we were, too. 

Overall, the evening was great because of the company. We laughed, caught up, drank wine and kvetched about my choice of restaurants. Although the creme caramel tempted me a little, we decided to pass on dessert.

Ok, so the bottom line: Should you go? No. I'm sorry. The total bill for our table of four was $145 and some change, which included four entrees, one order of calimari and six or seven glasses of wine. Or eight. I don't recall, really. Maybe it's just me, but when I think of Italian food, I think of fresh, ripe tomatoes, spicy garlic aromas filling the air, thick, fragrant sauces that are alive with flavor, crusty breads, perfect al dente pastas, and the cheese... oooooh the cheese. I'm sorry to say that we didn't get any of that at Ristorante Renato. What we had was bland, average and very disappointing.

That said, this evening was just more proof to me that it's not the little things (like overpriced, less than delicious food) that matter. It's the people you bring to the party that make all the difference. So, at the risk of sounding like a dollar store Valentine's card, on this Valentine's Day, remember to live your life to its fullest, laugh at all the things that don't matter, and love with all you have. To those who suffered through this experience with me, thank you so much for being in my life and joining me for dinner. I love y'all.

The Crabby Oyster

I'd heard great things. Great. Granted, the great things I heard were paid radio advertisements... so what are they going to say "come here! It sucks!"? Nope.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

The Crabby Oyster is located in King George, Virginia about 30 miles from Fredericksburg. I know, it's a little out of my restaurant zone, but I ate there and felt the need to share. Here goes:

King George happens to be right smack at the mid-point of my house and where a friend of mine lives. We decided to have lunch, so that location just made sense. Now for those of you who have never made it to the tourist mecca that is King George, Virginia, let me just tell you: There's Dahlgren Naval Surface Warfare Center (and one would presume this would bring a plethora of sailors and eye candy, but one would be presuming incorrectly), a Burger King, a Wawa gas station, a Food Lion and the Crabby Oyster. And I think some Chinese place. At any rate, since there were no hot sailors around, and since Keith isn't really INTO hot sailors, we opted for the seafood.

The atmosphere is very casual, kinda cute... kinda cafeteria-y. They had some interesting t-shirts for sale, and the salad bar was large. The booths were comfortable and the bathrooms were clean.

We weren't drinking anything exciting, just tea and coffee. Refills were a little hard to come by.

Keith ordered oyster stew and a clam strip basket. I chose the fried scallops basket. We were one of two or three tables in the restaurant, and the food came quickly. The oyster stew was runny, and there was something not quite right about it. I think it was the 1/4 inch layer of what appeared to be butter or margarine or motor oil that covered it. One quarter of an inch. Hand to God. Keith fished through the oil slick and pulled a couple oysters out, and then pushed the bowl away. I didn't ask for a bite. About this time, our entrees arrived. Things were looking up... but I was still pretty grossed out by the exxon stew. When the server brought our entrees, she also had in her hand a cup of oyster stew for the table behind us. No butter. It looked like normal creamy tasty oyster stew. Curious. The baskets we'd ordered were served with a generous portion of french fries and a tiny to-go ramekin containing coleslaw. The scallops were tasty. The clams were a little overcooked.

Ok, so we stayed there for three hours. Clearly I've developed a habit of sitting at a restaurant for an exhorbitant amount of time... this time I wasn't there for the food or the wine list. I was there for the conversation. In this case, it worked out. It was quiet, we were able to talk without much interruption. That part was good. The food? eh.

So, the usual questions... will I go back? Probably not. I have no doubt that The Crabby Oyster occasionally turns out some pretty decent seafood... but based on the oyster stew alone, ain't no way this cracker is going back. The baskets were passable, but I can't believe the waitress had the balls to trot that mess out to a table. I refuse to serve something to a table that I wouldn't eat myself and there's no way I would have expected someone to either eat or pay for oyster stew with sludge. I was going to say something but I didn't want Keith to think I was a persnickety bossy beotch. (even though I am...) And he's just too nice.

Final cost for lunch was just over $34, and we left a $6 tip. As I said, we're nice.

Should you go? Eh... that's entirely up to you. If you're in town and feeling brave, go for it. As I said, they probably do ok sometimes. Try something broiled though... or maybe a dinner. If you really want seafood, Burger King's fish sandwich isn't half bad...

La Petite Auberge

As I contemplated where to go for dinner this past weekend, my phone rang. It was an old friend asking if I'd like to have dinner with her family and some other friends at La Petite that evening in honor of her birthday. I, of course, said yes. So, I'm already changing things up on you. It wasn't a 'Party of One'... it was a 'Party of Four'... but then it just turned into a party. I love my life... but I digress.

I arrived at La Petite Auberge (311 William Street, Fredericksburg, VA) around 6pm, a little early for our 6:30 reservations, so I walked into the bar and ordered a glass of Chilean cabernet. (Forgive me, I never saw the bottle) As I stood sipping and waiting for my friends, I recognized one of my bar customers as she walked in. We chatted, her boyfriend came in and suggested I sit with them and wait at their table. They ordered a bottle of Naked Mountain (the cork says "Drink Naked". Love it.) and an order of calimari. La Petite serves their calimari with an aioli sauce opposed to marinara, giving it a little different flavor. It was very good, crisp and fresh, not frozen and clearly battered there in the restaurant. And, they served the rings only, no tarantula-looking tentacle pieces (major bonus points there for LPA!!).

My dinner friends arrived and I thanked my Naked Mountain friends for the conversation and hospitality and walked into the bar area to meet the others. We sat and talked while we looked at the menus. I chose an apple and avocado vinaigrette for an appetizer, and rockfish with lump crab meat for dinner. The others at the table ordered steak, caesar salad, steamed clams and mussels and crab stuffed flounder. The restaurant was very full, so our appetizers took a while, but were well worth the wait. The avocado was perfectly ripe and neatly sliced on the left side of the plate. The apples were sliced and on the right, and the two fruits were separated by two slices of tomato. A creamy vinaigrette was served in a ramekin. The presentation was beautiful, the dressing was amazing, and I've been craving another plate since that night. More cabernet arrived, more conversation, and dinner was served. It was again beautifully presented, and the portions were generous. I would guestimate an 8-10oz piece of Rock, which was topped with deliciously sweet lump crab meat. The sides were scalloped potatoes and steamed carrots. I don't even want to talk about how many Weight Watcher's Points the bearnaise-esque sauce likely had in it, but I'll get over it. The rockfish was perfectly cooked, excellent and although I hate to admit it, I cleaned just about everything off of that plate. I considered taking the last roll and sopping up the remaining sauce, but I decided to pretend I had manners and let it go.

Our server came to ask about dessert, which I declined. There were fresh strawberries with Chantilly, Chocolate Gateau and Creme Brulee, among other things. Most days, I would sell a kidney for good creme brulee... but I passed it up. (If she'd have suggested more avocado and apple, I'd have probably jumped on it like a fat kid on a cupcake.) We paid our tabs and my dinner friends left, so I re-joined my Naked Mountain friends at the bar for a little more wine.

and that's when the party began...

Anyway, total time spent at La Petite was around four hours. Dinner took a long time. It would have been completely bearable had one of my table mates not been a semi-impatient six year old. My bill was just over $44.00 (for the avocado and apple, the rockfish and two glasses of wine) plus a $10 tip. The server was friendly and efficient, but the kitchen seemed a little slow. The restaurant was very busy and our server had tables in two different areas of the building, but I was extremely happy with the overall experience. Would I go back? In a heartbeat. Should you go? Definitely. But don't be in a rush. Enjoy. Relax. Pace yourself. Save room for dessert and tell me all about it. Stay away from the creme brulee though. That's all mine. :)

Reservations...

Here it is… my food blog. Try to contain your excitement please. It’s embarrassing.

 The idea for this blog came out of boredom, really. My two teenagers spend every other weekend with their father, and when they’re away things get slow around here. The dishes are done, the laundry is clean and I get tired of talking to whatever assorted animal has decided to make itself home in my home. I hate cooking for just myself. It’s boring. So, from now on… every Friday or Saturday that Thing One and Thing Two venture off to Casa de Papa, I’m taking myself out. Fer realz. And then I’m going to tell you all about it. The wines, the appetizers, the main course, dessert, the service. I’ll tell you where and when I went. I’ll tell you if it was horrible, just average, or if you need to find someone and go get you some. Dinner. Get some dinner. Stay on target, k? Most times I will be alone… but I’ll be just fine. I’m going to start in downtown Fredericksburg, VA but if I don’t get bored with this whole venture, I might skirt out into the surrounding area a bit. I might even throw some recipes at you… I’m kind of unpredictable like that. Seriously, sit back down. I’m not done yet.

I should tell you a little about myself.

No, I’m not a formally trained chef or someone who’s been highly educated in cultivating new varieties of plant life, or placing only heirloom and organically grown produce and free range, grass fed meats into my mouth. I’m not a food critic and no one is paying me to do this. I just like to eat.

Sadly, I have excellent taste. I hate mediocrity. I can’t stand chain restaurants and always getting exactly what I expect. The same “steak that’s almost cooked right, but not quite, just like last time… and the server is too busy to complain about it, just like last time… so just suck it up, pay the bill and let them flip the table quick so the cook can over-grill the next guy’s steak too” kind of meal. Makes me crazy. Really. This is where my excellent taste bites me in the butt. If and when I go out to eat, my expectations are high, particularly if I’m spending a fair amount of my hard earned money. I expect good, friendly service. I expect the food to look appetizing. I expect to find at least two wines on the wine list that don’t taste like dirty socks. And I expect that when I put that first forkful of the chef’s creation into my mouth, that my eyes close and it’s a “yesssss… that’s what I’m talking about” moment. Sounds a little perverted now that I’ve typed it. I don’t simply eat. I enjoy. I have a relationship with my food. I don’t eat for sustenance. I eat because I really, truly love really good food. I don’t want average. I expect excellence. Don’t disappoint me.

I’m pretty sure somewhere along the way, I missed my calling. I should be a chef. I love to cook for other people. I’m pretty frickin good at it. (Do you hear that? It’s me tootin’ my horn) I also love the restaurant industry, and so for the past twenty plus years, I’ve kept one foot in it. I’ve been a server, a bartender, a pastry 'chef' (trained only in grandma and mom’s kitchens). I love watching what comes out of the kitchen, seeing customers having a good time with their friends and family, watching special moments happen, and I love helping other people have that “yessss…” experience. Quiet.  I’m not the only one who does that. I’ve seen it. They close their eyes. They savor. They make a weird moaning noise, which is admittedly a little bizarre, but I’ve done that, too. Maybe I enjoy working in a restaurant because it’s helped me to realize that I am not the only one who actually has had a love affair with dinner. Maybe you have. Maybe you’re just afraid to admit it. Maybe we need to go to dinner together.

How’s seven o’clock? I’ll make the reservations.