Everyone loves Italian-American food, to properly translate Neil Simon’s oft-repeated remark. All Americans, at least. Italians, those people from Italy, generally do not at all. And when you are going out for Italian food here, you are usually going out for Italian-American food. Though Italian-American is not Italian in the strictest sense, it might still be the most-loved type of food in America, many years after Simon’s observation. At these restaurants, you’ll get tomato sauce, Alfredo sauce, garlic, spaghetti and meatballs, linguine and clams, chicken parmesan, and, today, interpretations of the inexpensive-to-make pasta dishes from Rome that have swept the world – Carbonara, cacio e pepe, and all'Amatriciana – with Caesar salad and fried calamari among the starters. There will be a lot of sauce and a lot of cheese throughout.  
 
Veal is, or was, the signature preparations in Italian-American restaurants in the northeast and Midwest – and about my favorite thing as a kid – like Carbone’s Veal Parmesan that’s famous, infamous, for its $72 price tag. But veal has never really been a big thing in Houston. Sure, it’s been on menus, but it’s not been part of the local Italian-American experience here, unlike in other cities. And, these days diners seem to order it even less. Because of this, the veal often tastes grainy, like it’s been sitting in the restaurant’s freezer for an extended period. I’ve noticed this far too often at Italian-themed places in recent years, which is quite disappointing.
 
Here are the best Italian-American restaurants in Houston listed by order of preference.
 
The Best
 
Carrabba’s – These two locations, still owned and operated by co-founder, cookbook author and once PBS cooking show host Johnny Carrabba, are exceedingly popular after three decades years by serving big, flavorful dishes in a casually upscale and festive environment. The original Carrabba’s helped define the exuberant Sicilian-rooted Gulf Coast cooking that is one of the well-loved staples of the Houston dining scene. In vibe, it is the almost perfect Italian-American trattoria, if that is such a thing. There are lively salads, hefty pizzas and pastas and robust easy-to-like dishes like crab cakes with a sweet red pepper sauce, Chicken Bryan, a grilled breast of chicken with goat cheese, sun-dried tomatoes, basil and a lemon-butter sauce, and Stuffed Shrimp Mandola featuring a crab dressing. Not only is the original location on Kirby seemingly always packed with an always well-heeled crowd, the bar is still crowded and lively many nights of the week. Upper Kirby, Briargrove
 
Worth a Visit
 
Damian’s – ​This Midtown stalwart set in a stolid stand-alone building has been a well-worn stop for downtown diners since it opened in the early 1980s. The original slew of owners from those popular local Sicilian-American families – the extremely affable Frankie Mandola, Ciro Lampasses, Joe Butera and namesake Damian Mandola – have long exited but Damian’s carries on is satisfying fashion. It does not nearly excite as it did many years ago when Texas Monthly was lauding it as one of the top dining stops in the state, but it remains a fine-dining Houston favorite. The cooking here might be described as an upscale Gulf Coast version of the country’s beloved Southern Italian-American fare. Flavors and portions are generous. In dining rooms made cozy by low-ceilings and lights, you can enjoy specialties like filet mignon grilled and finished with the piquant herbaceous Sicilian ammoghiu sauce, plump veal chops, Shrimp Damian, and Fra Diavolo Linguine, a medley of seafood including lobster and lump crabmeat in a piquant marinara sauce. Midtown
Rosalie's – Houston has historically been tough on out-of-town restaurateurs and hotel dining, but things might have changed, as West Coast-based television chef Chris Cosentino has channeled his Italian-American roots into what has been a popular and adept smallish spot in a refurbished and now surprisingly hip hotel – the C. Baldwin was a setting for the “The Bachelor” airing in early 2022 – at the southwestern edge of downtown. Chef-created Italian-American might be the best description of the offerings here. The crab cannelloni features Sauce Americane, a French concoction featuring cream and lobster shells. Fairly rich and redolent of the sea, it’s quite tasty if not what any Italian-American family (or restaurant) makes. The menu is enticing with other pastas, spot-on sides such as roasted cherry tomatoes with garlic and breadcrumbs, and protein-centered preparations like a spicy Shrimp Fra Diavolo, a hanger steak Pizzaiolo also with peppers and capers, and a milanese with chicken – there’s no veal on the menu. There are pizzas, too. Though the crusts are not nearly flavorful nor soft enough to pull off a successful margherita, but the other toppings might work well. This cab be a fun stop, and it’s in a hotel! Downtown
Louie’s Italian American – This is a contemporary, fun interpretation of long one of the country’s most popular cuisines studded with insight from present-day Italy. There are plenty of familiar items, done a little differently. Fried calamari, meatballs in red sauce, shrimp cocktail, and an old school antipasto plate but with gruyere, too, are some of the starters. Then the pastas, which are nicely crafted here, thin and light, when either stuffed or not. The Piemontese spindly-stranded tajarin made yellowy similar as there with a surfeit of egg yolks in the dough. Heartier fare includes the ostensibly necessary Chicken Parm, redfish with the piccata treatment. and sausage and peppers. A limited, well-chosen selection of wines and an handful of cocktails that are slated to increase in number help add atmosphere to the quaint setting that manages to be both industrial and homey. And it shares a single-story mixed-use building with a few other complementary businesses including the still somewhat funky wine bar How to Survive on Land and Sea. East End
Lulu’s – Comfortable, especially for those who frequent long-standing Armando’s on the other side of the shopping center at the edge of River Oaks, this attractive spot that opened in mid-2021 serves creditable versions of contemporary takes on Italian-American fare spiked with popular dishes from Italy. Misspellings on the menu – guanchale, al’amatriciana, caccio – helps let you know that this is not serving anything like authentic Italian fare, but the approachable preparations are well-oriented to its target market, as are the portions, not so robust, befitting an older clientele. The wine list, unfortunately, is small and poorly chosen, odd for present-day Houston at its prices. Upper Kirby
Piatto – Tucked away just outside the Loop on West Alabama under the glare of the Williams Tower, this inviting family-run spot has been offering Italian-American favorites geared to the locale – plenty of Gulf shrimp preparations along with grilled meats – plus pizzas for about two decades now. Asparagus topped with lump crab meat and a lemony butter sauce is a popular way to start. Sauces for the pastas are mostly red and white, and a pink, tomato cream. You might want to avoid the gloppy, simple stuffed pastas with the Alfredo sauce, though. Chicken takes precedence over veal for the larger items, but you can still get veal scaloppini in a couple of ways. That the breads for the table are noticeably fresh and flavorful and the salads are robust and well done indicate a welcome level of care taken here. Galleria Area

The osso buco at the original Carrabba's

I was excited for a presentation and tasting for wines of Masciarelli the other week during Milano Wine Week. Yes, there was a Milano Wine Week, and it was in Houston, too, at least as a part of it, via videoconference.  I was familiar with Masciarelli as a value producer of Montepulciano d’Abruzzo.  I knew that it had some well regarded wines but I had just experienced its base wine, a very affordable rustic red that would adequately wash down a weekday dinner.  This tasting highlighted some of its best bottlings, both Montepulciano and the white Trebbiano d’Abruzzo, all of which turned out to be quite good.  That wasn’t surprising.  Montepulciano d'Abruzzo, along with Barolo, are the favorite wines of legendary restaurateur Piero Selvaggio, who won a James Beard Award for wine and whose Valentino in Santa Monica had, for decades, one of the very best wine collections in the country
 
Montepulciano d'Abruzzo ("mohn-tay-pool-chee-AHN-oh duh-BROOTZ-oh) translates to the native red Montepulciano grape from the largely mountainous Italian region of Abruzzo that is east of Rome and abuts the Adriatic in the center of the country. Both the mountains and sea give the wines its often unique character. From Burton Anderson's The Wines of Italy these are generally, "full-bodied, even robust, with a capacity to age but with a supple smoothness that can make it eminently drinkable even when young." These wines have gotten much better in the past couple of decades, especially at the higher price points. These are the ones that Selvaggio really likes. But, bargains still abound.  Eric Asimov in The New York Times had an informative piece some years ago, "For Wine Lovers on a Budget, Try Montepulciano d'Abruzzo."
 
The better Montepulciano’s from Masciarelli, from the Marina Cvetic and Villa Gemma, provide something a little different, even for those familiar with Italian wines – a leanness to the wines, a lean structure.  Still deeply rub red colored, but the rusticity, maybe the most noticeable facet of the inexpensive versions of Montepulciano, is not much in evidence in these.  There are still noticeable tannins, but are firm and smooth, but the nose in each is noticeable, exuberant for the Villa Gemma Rosso Riserva 2017. The wines are smooth and flavorful.  Delicious, especially, with the Villa Gemma, which retails for around $80. The Marina Cvetic sells for roughly $30. 
 
To note, it's not related to the similarly named Vino Nobile di Montepulciano from Tuscany. That is made with a clone of Sangiovese. These can also be very fine wines, too, and a wine label with even more syllables.

The name “Soave” doesn’t mean much to most wine drinkers.  If the name resonates at all, it doesn’t resonate well: it’s as a bland or insipid white wine, at least for those with a few vintages under their belts back when Soave was one of the most popular wines from Italy.  And, much of what was sold here under the Soave banner – from Bolla, for example – was truly bland and insipid.  However, the influential Italian wine critic James Suckling has asserted that “Soave should be your go-to dry white for food… [as a] fresh Soave pairs well with almost everything on your dinner table thanks to its approachable styles, freshness and wonderful balance that are keys to drinkability.”  That was a key take-away after recently spending nearly a week in Verona and visiting a few wineries in nearby Soave, the town, which gives its name to white wines made there and close by.
 
The cool, typically crisp, slightly fruity and balanced, surprisingly fuller flavored than anticipated Soaves, often with welcome minerality, paired extremely well with the very warm Italian summer and the Italian version of air conditioning.  Thanks to its evident acidity, these are very capable and versatile food wines, as Suckling wrote, more so we found with lighter fare.  We drank quality versions readily, as an aperitif, with the pasta course and even at the end of the evening.  
 
Soave does not feature a well-known varietal.  It is made with a minimum of 70% Garganega and a maximum 30% Trebbiano di Soave, which is Verdicchio in the Marche region, and possibly also up to 5% of Chardonnay.  Pronounced gar-GAHN-eh-guh, Garganega came to the Veneto, where it is almost solely grown, centuries ago from Sicily where its antecedent is known as Grecanico.
 
The Soaves we quite enjoyed there were: Ca’ Rugate Soave Classico 2021 San Michele; I Campi Soave Classico Campo Vulcano 2020; Le Battistelle Soave Classico 2021; Pra Otto Soave 2021; and three different expressions from Pieropan.  I was hooked, but it can take some effort to find these are similar quality Soave here.  There are seven Soaves at the closest Total Wine to me, including the terrific, mineral-laden Calvarino that regularly garners a prestigious Tre Bicchieri rating from Gambero Rosso and the richer, La Rocca that is aged for fifteen months in fairly large barrels then in 500-liter tonneaux, both that I really enjoyed both at the winery and afterwards.  The big Spec’s on Smith Street has only five, but the base bottling from Pieropan, the Soave Classico, which is still quite nice.  Be sure to check the vintage dates at Spec’s, which can’t really be trusted, especially for its Italian white wines.  From Houston for Soave, it might be easier to order from out of town.

At the new Pieropan winery in June in Soave.

You hear Frank Sinatra.  If Sinatra or any of the other notable Italian-American crooners are on the restaurant’s soundtrack, the restaurant is certainly not Italian; it is most likely Italian-American.  Sinatra was not from Italy, but from the New York area and his music was American and something that those seeking to create a genuine Italian atmosphere, usually primarily with its menu and food, will not play.  You don’t really hear Sinatra in the trattorie or ristoranti in Italy, after all.
 
His music is still great, and I am a huge fan.  It and that of fellow mid-century Italian-Americans, Dean Martin, Tony Bennett, Louis Prima, Bobby Darin, and even sometimes Vic Damone and the overly smooth Perry Como, have helped to provide a very enjoyable and complementary musical background to restaurants here – mostly Italian-American and steakhouses – for decades, long after they’ve stopped recording.  I’ve made note of that before.
 
I have enjoyed myself countless times when dining out with Sinatra and friends playing around.  It just wasn’t with Italian food.

Tajarin with shaved white truffles a few years ago at Ristorante San Marco in Canelli near Asti.  It wasn't bad.

“Wine was food, part of the necessary calories of the day” for those that worked here in years past said Vittorio delle Ore, the proprietor of the Villa di Maser, to our small group visiting earlier this summer.  Even the site of the villa, long called Villa Barbaro after its founders, was because the Barbaro brothers in the mid-16th century thought it was advantageous for vineyards he further explained. 
 
That statement was not surprising to me, but the juxtaposition of it with the extraordinary setting, in one of the most famous buildings designed by Andrea Palladio – “the perfect Renaissance villa,” according to a British Academy article and part of a UNESCO World Heritage site – while we were surrounded by magnificent and sometimes whimsical frescoes by Renaissance master Paolo Veronese covering its walls and ceilings, helped to emphasize just how important wine has been to Italian life over the centuries.  Though wine is luxury to many people today, where vineyards grew historically, wine was an important part of the daily diet for nearly all.
 
And in a link to its history, the vineyards here are still producing wine, now under the Villa di Maser label.  Wine remains a significant part of Italian life, maybe not as essential to everyday living but important for economic and cultural reasons, not to mention gastronomic and celebratory.  And, Villa di Maser’s wine were part of our enjoyment later.

The front of Villa di Maser, from Wikipedia

The strong smell of fish wafted by as the waiter brought a second platter with two very popular local items, baccalà and slices of prosciutto crudo, to the pair of slight college-aged women sitting nearby in the alleyway that provides the seating for the suitably small wine bar La Piccola Vineria in the medieval section of the port city of Trieste in Italy’s northeastern edge.  It’s certainly something not to be seen in wine bars in this country, an order, much less two, of reconstituted salt cod as happy hour snacks.  Nor the prices, which hovered around four euros – just four dollars these days – for most of the dozen or so likely delicious selections by the glass.  These are high quality wines that are at least $15 to $20 per glass here, if imported.  Maybe it was a little cheaper than most, but this is emblematic of the wine bars in Trieste, where high quality wine is very affordable, as the city lies quite near terrific wine areas all around, especially the Collio – which extends Brda in adjacent Slovenia – but also the Carso and Friuli Colli Orientali.
 
The wines of the Collio are generally serious but approachable, seemingly always with evident minerality, sufficient and enjoyable fruit notes, a complexity, pleasant acidity – a brightness – and nearly always balance among its white varietals from the crisp Ribolla Gialla both in still and sparkling versions; Pinot Grigio, which seems to reach its apex here; the local favorite Friuliano that seems made to accompany seafood; the rich and savory Sauvignon and Chardonnay, both tasting different than elsewhere and nearly always quite pleasurable.  And others.  I believe that it is clearly best region for white wine in Italy.  And then the wines from the small Carso appellation surrounding Trieste, lead by light and often almond-scented Vitoska, Malvasia, the unique, vivid red Terrano, can be quite nice.
 
Though it was wine that played a part in bringing me to Trieste – I had been on a trip nearby sponsored by the consortiums of Collio and Carso a decade ago – it took me a few days to discern the bars where best to discover and enjoy quality wines, as I didn’t come across signs announcing “wine bar” or its Italian counterpart “enoteca” in my walks around the city.  I miss some things.  There are certainly no shortage of places to get a glass of wine in the tourist-friendly expanse of central Trieste, though.  Cafés and restaurants both with plenty of sidewalk-facing seating abound.  Coffee might be the beverage that most would associate Trieste with.  It is home to the famed Illy brand, around 40% of Italy’s coffee comes through its port, and there are still a few grand Viennese-style cafés.  Then Trieste has culture of drinking that might be more pronounced than elsewhere in Italy due, in part, to its Austrian and Slavic influences. The enjoyment of coffee, aperitivi and wine might be on display at many of these places, often at the same time, even well before noon.
 
You can get some really good wine by the glass at many or all of these, but it really helps to do some research.  I finally did that, or remembered some, after my first few days.  My unimpressive and uncomfortably warm business hotel had a magazine guide of the city from the end of last year, and in it was a page recommending spots to drink wine from Stefano Cosma, a food and wine writer in the area.  I also found a piece online a few years earlier from the estimable Jancis Robinson and re-read a helpful “36 Hours in Trieste, Italy” from The New York Times.  I used these to track down a spots, and wines, especially where there was overlap between the articles. 
 
Here are wine bars to suggest in Trieste near the tourist heart of the city, all unpretentious, which provided some excellent white wines to help quench my summertime thirst:

• Al Ciketo – Just off the pedestrian via Cavanna that is strewn with shops and restaurants, and a stone’s throw from La Piccola Vineria, this tiny, atmospheric place with alleyway seating can be a popular happy hour stop, and it’s blackboard filled with interesting wines both local and from elsewhere in Italy and there are cicchetti, small plates, to accompany.
• Enoteca Nanut – Around for a quarter of a century tucked away in the touristic center by the Canal Grande but easy to miss, here you can explore lesser-known Italian labels along or indulge in bubbles from Champagne, and it has a kitchen, too.
• Gran Malabar – Walking by, a visitor would probably just see this as a comfortable attractive café with tables on the small piazza in front.  The chalkboard of wines by the glass is notable, enticing with about three dozen selections, mostly white and mostly regional, but also a nice collection of bubbles from Champagne and Franciorta, and items like Gaja’s Chardonnay and a Gewurztraminer from Elena Walch.  The staff might have no idea what a barrique or tonneaux is, but what they are pouring will be very enjoyable. 
• La Bottiglia Volante – A couple of blocks from the Canal Grande, this smart and contemporary space is inviting and gives off a trendier vibe with its penchant for natural wines.  
• La Piccola Vineria – Invitingly quaint and friendly, you might enjoy a Collio producer like Toros that’s not widely distributed in this country, or even a Champagne from a historic house.
• Portizza – On the busy Piazza della Borsa, this popular café sports a terrific collection of regional wines that many spritz-drinking tourists and locals might not notice.

 
Though these wine bars might be the best places to casually explore the wine regions nearby, seemingly all the local restaurants will serve quality wines for a pittance.  Along those lines, I had to stop and gaze at the wines by the glass menu – “vini alla mescita” – posted outside of a humble restaurant serving the hearty fare of Alto Adige. For between all of between three and five-a-half euros per glass was about a dozen choices including the excellent wineries Venica & Venica, Villa Russiz, Russiz Superiore and Jermman, that last with a couple wines. 
 
Trieste is a wonderful place to drink wine, especially white wines.
 
Something else to mention concerning wine and Trieste: Though it doesn’t ship to the U.S. – I tried when I was there – Enoteca Bischoff, a retail shop along the busy via Mazzini and about a block or so from Enoteca Nanut that’s been around in some form since 1777 is worth a perusal for wine lovers for its impressively curated selection of wines, mostly Italian and well beyond the region and more.

Just the white wines at Gran Malabar in Trieste in June

Something I did a dozen years ago and thought to revisit after reading a New York Times piece earlier in the month highlighting Ken Auletta’s new biography of the horrific Harvey Weinstein (one of whose lawyers I oddly happen to know).  It seems that the longtime New Yorker writer has had an obsession in finding excellent Chicken Parmesan preparations, and part of a group of guys who have been foraging the Italian-American eateries of the New York area for it.  For him, a “test of a good Southern Italian restaurant is whether their chicken or veal parmigiana had a good sauce, the breading is crisp and has not been drowned in sauce, and the chicken or veal is not so thin it tastes like cardboard.”
 
Chicken Parmesan is an American creation that grew from the eggplant parmigiana preparation from southern Italy and Sicily, with the meatier chicken substituting for the less caloric eggplant at its core.  Veal Parmesan came first, at least by the 1930s while Chicken Parmesan debuted on restaurant menus at least a couple of decades later.  Veal Parmesan is certainly a much better dish, and my favorite dish as a kid, but Chicken Parmesan is ubiquitous throughout the country, the veal version much less so.  Industrially produced, widely distributed and easily affordable, gigantic, if typically tasteless, chicken breasts are the key reason for the popularity of Chicken Parmesan along with the ease of preparation.  But, even practiced Italian-Americans like Ken Auletta might like it if done well.
 
There are at least a dozen Italian-American restaurant chains ranging from the retrenching Zio’s with a just a handful of spots to Olive Garden with 887 (!), with most have at least forty outlets.  People like Italian-American food, in even the most minor key.  Chicken Parm at these restaurants is a slice or more of chicken breast, breaded and pan-fried – if rarely pounded thin – and topped with melted mozzarella and maybe some other white-colored, Italian-inspired cheeses and served in a lot of tomato sauce with a side of pasta, usually spaghetti, also in that tomato sauce.  You know what it is.  The portion sizes for an order can range widely, though, from just 750 calories to over 1600.
 
Given the highest rate of inflation in forty years, I thought I would reprise a survey of chain Italian-American restaurants that I did some years ago, the Chicken Parm Index.  Here are the current prices at dinner: 

• Bertucci’s – $21.99, 1330 calories
  
• Biaggi’s – $18.99, 1500 calories
• Bravo! Italian Kitchen – $21.99, 1450 calories
• Bucca di Beppo – $30.00 for a portion that feeds three, 870 calories for an individual serving
• Johnny Carino’s – $19.99, 1010 calories
• Carrabba’s – $20.49, 760 calories
• Fazoli’s – $10.29, 840 calories
• Maggiano’s Little Italy – $20.50, 1290 calories
• Romano’s Macaroni Grill – $20.00, 1610 calories
• Old Spaghetti Factory – $17.75, 750 calories
• Olive Garden – $17.79, 1020 calories
• Spaghetti Warehouse – $16, 750 calories
• Zio’s – Chicken Parmigiana – $14.99, 1370 calories

 
In 2010, the Chicken Parm preparations at the chain Italian-American restaurants for dinner ranged from $12.99 to $18.95 and averaged $15.  Now these go from $10.29 to $21.99, averaging $18.10.  The cost for a Chicken Parm dinner has risen just a shade over 20% in the intervening dozen years. 
 
Chicken Parm remains a price performer at these chain Italian-American restaurants.  I don’t recommend ordering it at one of these places nor even visiting any of these, though.

The Chicken Parmesan at Maggiano's.

The highly anticipated annual “World’s 50 Best Restaurants” list was just released.  Even if these are not really the best fifty restaurants in the world, it’s always fun for dedicated diners like me to peruse.  And in the top fifteen on this year’s list is a place I had dinner some years ago, Uliassi in Senagallia on the Adriatic in the Marche region of Italy.  It hadn’t been proclaimed as one of the very best restaurants in the world back then, but one of the best in Italy by the Italian guide Le Soste and had two Michelin stars – it’s garnered three in recent years – and it remains the place where I’ve had the very best meal I’ve ever had in Italy in a quarter of century traveling there.  Clearly so.
 
Since it was so accolated, I thought I would recount my meal there.  And just returning from a couple of weeks visiting restaurants in Italy, I’ve been thinking a lot about Italian dining.  Even more so than usual.
 
Dinner as part of a Gruppo Ristoranti Italiani gastronomic trip in 2011, there were about three dozen of us, the only diners in what seemed to have been a typically shuttered day for the restaurant.  With such a large group, it was a set menu.  Six courses.  All terrific.  Delicious, beautifully presented, creative, ambitious and often unusual, all with evidently superb ingredients, the plates were served with perfect pacing and skill.  This was even more impressive to me given the size of the group.  A similar-sized meal at the similarly praised Del Posto in Manhattan the next year, which was good, but paled in comparison to this one at Uliassi.
 
It all began with the table set with an array of breads that I described at the time as “fancy” and were easily the tastiest of the trip, which included some top restaurants.  Excellent restaurants will have excellent breads.  That analog might be more true in Italy where the cheap trattoria or osteria likely have cheap, and maybe stale I found, bread as part of its coperto, cover charge.  White wine, the region’s pride, Verdicchio, provided the necessary complement.
 
The first dish was triglie, the flavorful red mullet, that was lightly breadcrumb-encrusted, pan-fried, and served on a bed of parsley-centric sauce.  It was wonderful, nicely crisp with slightly zesty taste, a great combination of contrasting textures.  The second was roasted red shrimp – featuring the Italian favorite gambero rosso – oddly served with mashed potatoes, also bits of fresh black truffles, pieces of hazelnuts and colored black with squid ink in aspic.  Served in a wide-lipped white bowl that further highlighted the predominance of the black-colored food, it looked rather foreboding.  Delicious, though. The shrimp were cooked with anchovies that provided a subtle bite to an eccentrically composed, but very tasty dish that I ate very quickly.
 
Then came the smoked spaghetti with small clams and roasted peeled cherry tomatoes, a fun take on the Neapolitan classic spaghetti alle vongole.  The smokiness came from eel broth.  The commercial dried pasta was cooked for eight minutes I learned later, not al dente, but perfect with the dish.  The taste was thankfully not overly smoky, just flavorful.  The fourth preparation was sauteed spigola – sea bass that seems to be the same thing as branzino, though this was wild-caught – in a somewhat rich and just slightly earthy pigeon-based sauce, featuring mushrooms and evident rosemary.  Fantastic.  Like most diners and also chefs, I wouldn’t have thought to pair a saltwater fish filet, or any fish, with the sauce based on a smallish bird, though it was certainly inspired.
 
The savory courses had ended and the first of the desserts was a yogurt ice cream with arugula and passion fruit featuring pink peppercorns, with the ice cream was covered in a tasty sugar-based coating.  I found it elaborate, predictably chef-y, and excellent, even with the leafy greens.  The finale was an espresso crème brulee with bombolini, a donut-like sandwich, and chocolate pop rock.  The crème brulee was terrific, the doughnuts good, and the pop rocks tasted like pop rocks.  It was only item that did not impress.  Of course, I haven’t been impressed with pop rocks since my days in single digits.
 
I think that we were all ecstatic following the menu, as good as it was.  Lunch earlier in the day was at a place with a single Michelin star.  We got to tour the amazingly spacious and spotless kitchen afterwards.  I got to ask chef and proprietor Mauro Uliassi about the brand of pasta he used in the smoked spaghetti dish.  It was a small brand from Gragnano, which is celebrated for its pasta, which he generously gave me a box.  That pasta didn’t make into something involving smoked spaghetti but it was an additional reminder of a what became a long-memorable meal.   

From Uliassi

Somewhat surprising to me, I had terrific pizzas at three different places on a trip last month to Veneto and Friuli, two regions in northeastern Italy, far from pizza’s heartland.  I had never been much impressed with pizzas north of Rome over the years, though there have been well-turned ones here and there like from a Neapolitan-run pizzerias in Pesaro on the Adriatic about a decade ago and another one, from the lauded Sorbillo, in Milan before travel stopped. 
 
Maybe it was the pandemic that helped spur the increase in quality in pizzerias, with dining in restaurants prohibited for a long stretch of time in Italy and delivery pizzas became much more popular, and customers more demanding.  For the point, at more than one pizzeria, I saw boxes and delivery pouches in action, something that I had hardly noticed in the past.  And 50 Top Pizza, Guide to the Best Pizzerias in the World, a source I have used to some success on recent-years trips to Italy now has a section entitled, “Le 50 Migliori Pizze in Viaggio in Italia da taglio e asporto,” the fifty best pizzas for a trip for the Roman pizza al taglio and also take-out in Italy.
 
The reason for my past relative indifference with pizzas in northern Italy is that pizza is specifically Neapolitan in origin.  It’s from Naples, that ancient port city near where many Italian-American can trace their origins.  Because of these transplants, pizza became more readily available in U.S. than it did elsewhere in Italy.  “Pizza, which was unknown in north Italy before the war” recounted cookbook author Marcella Hazan in her memoir Amacord.  Pizzas was difficult to find anywhere outside of the Naples region through the 1950s.  It came to those other cities with transplanted Neapolitans who traveled north to find work in the industrial boom after the war.  Though pizza spread throughout the country, it’s quality rarely matched that of the pizzerias in the Naples area and Rome, where it took hold by 1960 or so, as Italy’s cooking is generally fiercely local.  But pizza now seems to be a source of pride for many of the pizzerias I encountered had signs like “artigianale” and “lievito madre” – artisanal and sourdough yeast – stenciled on their windows along with detailed and often impressive sourcing of ingredients on their menus.   
 
The crusts and the toppings, which are all what pizzas are, but those crusts, especially, can be tough to master and corners might be cut there and elsewhere.  The crusts on the trip were generally excellent, fresh, flavorful and providing a sufficient base for whatever toppings, and those ranged from the Neapolitan style with a soft crust and raised crown, if not the near-soupiness in the center to bready, chef-driven sturdier version but with also a raised crown to a crispy, crusty nearly Roman pizza tonda in execution.  Then the quality of toppings was first-rate, with impeccable burrata, tangy, rich buffalo mozzarella, fresh seasonal truffles, Spanish anchovies from the Atlantic, and 24-month aged prosciutto di Parma were a few of the ones I had along the way.
 
Though we didn’t make it to I Tigli in San Bonafacio, across the autostrada from Soave where we spent an early day touring and tasting at wineries, that is listed as the fourth best pizza in all of Italy by The 50 Top Pizza site, we had very good pizzas a couple times from place very near the villa we rented overlooking Verona, San Mattia Osteria, Pizzeria and Lounge Bar in San Mattia.  So enjoyable, in fact, we picked up pizzas from there twice and one couple even ate there a third time.  Its crusts were light and Neapolitan-like, and the pizzas were similarly light, fresh-tasting with excellent judiciously used ingredients, and this from just a local spot with ones like: fuori dal forno filetti di acciughe del Mar Cantabrico, mozzarella di bufala, and capperi di Lipari; baked anchovy fillets from the Cantabrian Sea off Spain, buffalo mozzarella, and capers from the island of Lipari in Sicily.  We didn’t order enough pizzas each time, as ravenously as we devoured them.
 
The best I had was in Il Melograno in Trieste the next week, a entry in the Top 50 Pizza site, where endured exceedingly slow service – restaurant staffing shortages have affected Italy, too – but the food was so good. So good.  The thin crust with a raised crown were delicious as were the toppings: mozzarella, a designated production of burrata, prosciutto from a named local producer and orange-infused olive oil.  The entire meal was wonderful, even the different beet and baccala preparations we had to start, all helped by high-quality German beer then nearly local wine – Korsic Ribolla Gialla from the Collio that seemed to go well with everything – and finally the hometown Illy espresso at the end of a too-long stay.
 
Nearly as good was Al Cantonet in Conegliano, the town chosen to close out our trip because of its easy access to the airport in Venice.  And Al Cantonet was chosen because I could not get into two nicer restaurants I had hoped to.  I barely got into this place, too.  With a very interesting, very artisanal menu with maybe fifty types of pizza plus a dozen or so from a special menu highlighting a type of local tomato that was season.  It took me nearly a beer to make a choice which was pizza with burrata and 24-month-aged prosciutto di Parma.  The presentation was rather unexpected with the pizza nearly unadorned except for smatterings of tomato sauce and mozzarella and a ball of burrata.  The prosciutto slices were on a plate on the side.  It was excellent featuring a crisp crust similar to the Roman pizza tonda, but larger in diameter, it seemed.  I could see some of the open kitchen with dough portioned from a tray and put into a brick oven with a rotating bottom and two pizzaiolos working steadily.  The burrata and prosciutto were terrific and far better than similar products I’ve had since I’ve returned.
 
Much cheaper, too.   Pizzas ranged from €4 for the very simply adorned marinara or margherita pizzas to up to €13 or so.  Not bad at all, particularly with dollar and euro now at parity.  Even places were I didn’t order pizza kind of impressed, at least what I could see for the pies on other tables like at the humble Al Folgher also in Conegliano where I had top-notch prosciutto and fried calamari instead.  Now might be a better time than ever to enjoy pizza in Italy.

The excellent Pizza Unica at Il Melograno in Trieste recently

When asking for recommendations for Verona from a friend in the wine business and a native of Verona, at the top of her list, and bolded at that, was dinner at Antica Bottega del Vino, the famed wine bar-restaurant in the heart of historic city center that boasts one of the best wine lists not just in Italy but the entire world.  With 4,700 interesting selections on its wine list and a cellar of 18,000 bottles, it’s owned by thirteen of the top Amarone and Valpolicella producers and the city of Verona is a nexus for the nearby wine regions of Soave, Bardolino, and Lugana in addition to the fruit of the vines coming from the nearby Valpolicella hills.  The sheer amount of vines that can be seen when driving near Verona is amazing, befitting the largest city in largest wine-producing region in Italy.  I had actually been looking forward to visiting Antica Bottega del Vino for years.
 
My two initial attempts at reservations a week beforehand were not successful; the restaurant was booked for both its seatings for the midweek evening that suited the group.  There were nine of us, which did not help, a big table at a very popular destination with international renown.  I was resigned to just visiting for glass of wine or two sometime during our time there.
 
I did that with a couple others on our first full day in the area.  On lookout for its sign, “Bottega Vini” tucked away on a side street off the marble-laden ritzy retail pedestrian street, Via Mazzini, we finally found it.  Thin and festooned in dark wood, and really not much to the ground floor interior but with an feel of comfort bereft of much fanciness much less pretentiousness, we walked in past the glass case of appealing cicchetti, the area’s version of tapas, just inside and gazed up at the chalk boards behind the bar to decide on the first wine of the visit.  There were thirty whites, rosés, reds and sparklers plus a bakers’ dozen of Amarones, one from each of the houses that own the restaurant - this is certainly the best spot to sample Amarones.  Both an impressive and inviting list of wines by the glass, with neat choices from nearby but also further afield especially from Champagne.  The prices were friendly, too, ranging from €5 to €19, though for an Amarone Riserva, most were well under €10 for wines that might be three times as expensive at restaurants and wine bars here.
 
We started with Bardolino Chiarettos and a Franciacorta Satèn, a rosé from nearby Lake Garda and the lower pressure bottling of that method champagne method wine, and sat down at one of the tables that were empty before the dinner service that begins at 7:00.  The couple at the neighboring table were drinking a rich Valpolicella Ripasso, ignoring the temperature that neared ninety with sufficient humidity.  It was certainly a good wine.  And they turned out to be practiced imbibers, English, saying that they had visited Antica Bottega del Vino on fifteen or so trips to Verona over the past couple of decades, if I heard them correctly.  We soon got shooed outside because of the necessary preparations for dinner and found space at one of the few tall tables set out in front.  Another round ensued, different, chilled wines to sample.  It was a very pleasurable introduction to the place.  I could readily understand why we could not get reservations for dinner: there are maybe eighty seats both inside and out on the street just outside its door.  Maybe.  And it was quite well known to many people who liked wine well beyond Verona.
 
The restaurant was also a favorite of the owners of the villa, Giorgio and Alessandra, we had rented in the hills of the city.  Fortunately for us, they lived in an adjacent property and had mentioned in one of our first conversations with them there our inability to get a table and they had some strings to possibly pull there.  They couldn’t promise anything but would try.  Alessandra notified the next day that she was able to get a table for all nine of us at nine that night under her name.  It’s good to have connections.
 
The visit was prefaced by aperitivos at one of the crowded cafés a few blocks away on Piazza Erbe as my friend suggested.  The aperitivo is welcome part of near-daily life in Verona and much of northern Italy these days, it seems.  Then after one bitter starter, we ambled near the storefronts for Gucci, Burberry, Bottega Veneta and Dolce & Gabbana, we made it to the more humble one for the restaurant.
 
We were seated at the long table not far from the entrance where we initially were the other night when the place was much emptier, greeted with the first side of The Clash's "Combat Rock" in the air seemingly spun from vinyl.  The dinner that night was a lot of fun, one of the highlights of the trip.  As we sat down and begin to order, the street in front of the restaurant and small area near the front of the counter began to fill up with a festive crowd, seemingly mostly locals, not too young nor too old.  Mostly single, at least for the evening, it seemed.  Seated nearby, the indoor dining area is not much, it was a fun environment for a wine-soaked meal. 
 
Antipasto, pasta with truffles as the primo or the house specialty Risotto con Amarone for me next – “Fantastico” was Alessandra’s description – then the meats and finally dessert.  We did it up in the indulgent tourist fashion.  Plenty of wine, too, of course.  It was a joy to thumb through one of the oversized wine lists to try to select the wines, at least once with help from one of its sommeliers.  The Pra Otto Soave, Speri Valpolicella Classico, and Torre d’Orti Valpoicella Ripasso Superiore were each very well made, delicious, complementary to their parts of the meal, and very reasonably priced for American customers.  I did note again that Vitello alla Milanese gets less desirable the further you travel from the Milan area, as mine was drier and less flavorful than it should have been, hence the need for accompaniments of tomatoes and mayonnaise.  No matter, a very enjoyable night.  After finish the desserts and rest of wine and digestivos, I seem to remember, we split up to find cabs in different parts of the city center in a still bustling Verona past midnight on a weekday.
 
Antica Bottega del Vino is a terrific stop for wine whether or not a full dinner is in store.  A number of cicchetti can be a great partner to the second glass of wine and can make for a meal in itself.  The restaurant, the bar, is worth more than just one visit, in fact.  I’m looking forward to a future return.
 
Antica Bottega del Vino
Via Scudo di Francia
37121 Verona, Italy

I recognized “sgombro” in the title of one of the pizzas at Pizzeria Du De Cope the other evening in Verona.  Mackerel.  In a just-post-pandemic dining landscape where reservations are a near-must in most somewhat popular restaurants in Italy, we were happy and felt lucky to be able to get seated very soon after the doors had opened.  And this pizzeria is from Verona’s star chef and restaurateur Giancarlo Perbellini, who has nearly ten restaurants in Verona and elsewhere and a couple of Michelin stars at his flagship, Casa Perbellini, so maybe it wasn’t that odd to see a chef-y license with the pizza toppings.
 
One of our large group, maybe on my suggestion, ordered an unusual pizza: “Sgombro, cipolla e burrata” as it is listed on the menu.  Along with the mackerel in substantial pieces, it had buffalo mozzarella, burrata, mascarpone, halves of small perfectly ripe tomatoes, pickled red onions, pieces of basil and gratings of reserve Grana Padano cheese arrayed in nearly perfect circle of dough bounded by a high crown.  There was not just fish on the pizza but in the traditionally thought-to-be-unholy in Italy combination of fish and cheese; fish and grated cheese, too.
 
I swapped a quarter of my pie for the sgrombo and company one.  It was different, but not too different.  The firm pieces of the mackerel were mild, so the pizza was not assertively and offputtingly fishy tasting like the cheap anchovy pizzas of my distant youth.  That it was from an establishment of a top chef and in a city known for its seafood in restaurants, helped ensure that the fish was of good quality.  The bit of acidity from the pickled onions and fresh tomatoes provided a nice complement to the fish – though I might have liked a lemon wedge on the side for some more of that – and the trio of different cheeses rounded out the flavors going with the fairly sturdy crust.
 
That wasn’t the only fish on pizza during the recent two weeks in northeastern Italy.  Just across the autostrada from Soave where we spent a terrific day tasting wine is San Bonifacio, home of I Tigli, the fourth best pizzeria in all of Italy according to the reputable and useful 50 Top Pizza, which, unfortunately, did not fit into the schedule that evening or another.  It has long served a Polenta and Baccalà pizza, a version of the popular regional appetizer, whipped salted cod over polenta.  Among the fifty or so pizzas at the excellent Al Cantonet in Conegliano that I stumbled into one night were four seafood-topped ones.  A couple with swordfish carpaccio and a couple others with shrimp including that surprisingly named Tony Esposito also with pesto, tomatoes and buffalo mozzarella.  I’m pretty sure that he didn’t have anything like that when he was expertly tending goal for the Hawks in the Chicago Stadium, or on the road for that matter.
 
I was surprised to encounter fish on pizzas during this trip, but maybe I shouldn’t have been.  Fish on pizza, at least in a tamer and more famous form, has been around for forty years, ever since Wolfgang Puck put smoked salmon along with crème fraiche and caviar on a pizza for the actress Joan Collins on the road to stardom.

Chianti is the most recognizable name and image in Italian wine – the Chianti flask – and a fixture at Italian restaurants since there were Italian restaurants in this country.  Though the name “Chianti” is certainly well known, the region and its range of wines not so much.  There is actually a lot to Chianti.  These are both the recognizable, easily consumable and also the hearty and serious red wines from the beautiful, tourist-trafficked heart of Tuscany. 
 
What these have in common is a distinctive, familiar Italian red wine taste: slight bitterness, with a definite tartness along with an earthiness or dustiness, plus cherry, plum or strawberry notes, all of which help make them eminently food-friendly.  These are the prototypically Italian wines for many, and range fairly widely in terms of richness, tannins and complexity, and price, of course.
 
The famous emblem of the Gallo Nero, the black rooster, of Chianti Classico denotes the birthplace and historic heart of Chianti and is home to the most of the most renowned and expensive bottlings, some of which don’t carry the Chianti name at all – those Super Tuscans that grew out from the slow-moving bureaucracy of the wine region a few decades ago.  In addition to Chianti Classico, there are seven, soon to be eight, other subregions plus the overarching Chianti DOC.  So, ten appellations for Chianti, in all.  The Chianti name is spread over larger area of Tuscany than ever before, with well over 3,000 producers.  It’s also better than ever, and maybe more confusing. Then, Chianti Classico has eight subzones.
 
I have certainly drunk a lot of Chianti over the years, purchase it on a regular basis, and have even visited the area a few times, but my knowledge about it was comparatively limited.  A seminar in January hosted by the Chianti consortium helped to grow my understanding.   
 
In 1996, the Chianti Classico zone became independent from the Chianti DOC and the terms for one are a little than for the other.  The larger Chianti area – from Chianti DOC – regulates that wine under the Chianti banner must be between 70% and 100% Sangiovese, including up to 10% that can be white.  Chianti was once known a white wine region, after all.  There are three main categories, which are predicated on aging: annata, the wines that are ready on March 1 after the harvest; Superiore, with at least a year of aging; and Riserva that has two years aging in the cellar.   
 
The fresh young Chiantis, the annata bottlings, are among my favorite wines to consume when I am in central Italy.  These more inexpensive wines are not as imported as readily and are meant to be consumed quickly.  I do enjoy each of the styles when well made, as the good bottlings are “always in balance,” something that the brand ambassador at the seminar and tasting stressed.  The eight wines in the tasting certainly were.  Delicious, too, for the most part.  At events like this, I put a check mark for the wines I am impressed with and truly enjoy.  I checked six of the eight.  My favorites were an annata from Colli Senesi, which is my favorite subzone, where the wines are about the richest in all of Chianti, being the furthest south and often made from Brunello producers who might also have very similar tasting Rosso di Montalcinos.  Three of my other favorites were also 100% Sangiovese like that one, but Riservas from 2018.  Even bigger, more deeply flavored, more complex.  All the wines were indeed very balanced, with very nice fruit – often missing in lackluster bottles – noticeable acidity and a proper amount of tannins depending on the style.  And the wines were without the hint of mustiness that I often associated with Chianti.
 
I’d recommend learning more about Chianti.  That means purchasing and drinking more Chianti.  It will make your meal taste better, and for more than with pizza and tomato sauces.  Nicely, these can still be price performers, making the exploration easier.

Somewhat for an upcoming trip to Italy, the first overseas since the advent of the pandemic, I was recently reviewing notes from one I took to the region of the Marche with the Gruppo Ristoranti Italiani (GRI), an organization that the celebrated restaurateur Tony May helped found back in 1979.  May’s recent passing help remind me what an influence he had on moving Italian cuisine and restaurants in this country to become more Italian, grander, and generally much better.
 
May was exceedingly knowledgeable about the fare throughout Italy, and he was happy to share his insights with me on a few occasions.  Born Antonio Magliulo south of Naples, May had traveled extensively throughout the county and was familiar with the leading restaurateurs, chefs and food producers.  His pan-Italian Palio in Manhattan’s then-new Equitable Building that opened in 1986 took its name from the annual horse races in Siena, which featured a noteworthy, dramatic mural from the Tuscan artist Sandro Chia, and had a kitchen headed by a top chef from the far northern Alto Adige.  After departing Palio, he opened San Domenico – long regarded as the best Italian restaurant in New York – a transplant of sorts from the famed restaurant in Emilia-Romagna that has carried the tradition of the cooking for Italian aristocratic households, along with great attention to its locale not far from that rich gastronomic capital of Bologna. 
 
As I learned more about Italian food, the food of Italy, it seemed that it was really local or regional cuisines, all largely tied to a particular area.  That was reinforced in many books and articles over the years including a couple at home.  My copy of the long-useful The Italian Food Guide from the Touring Club of Italy a couple decades ago wrote in its introduction to the country that “It is a short step from local produce to local dishes.  To tell the truth, local cooking has always fascinated even the most refined intellectuals” (even if I might not be one of those).  In a similar vein, the phone book-sized resource resting by my stovetop, La Cucina: The Regional Cooking of Italy from the impressive-sounding Accademia Italiana della Cucina, describes that the “most striking aspect of the book remains the enormous quantity of recipes and their close relationship to the places where they are eaten.”
 
So, it was interesting for me to learn that May had a different – and even controversial – idea about Italian cooking.  “There is no regional cuisine.  Italy has always had two cuisines, that of the aristocracy and that of the people” was what he said to me in the seaside town of Pesaro on a GRI trip there in 2011.  “The cuisine of the aristocracy was always much lighter than that of the regular people,” while the poorer “Italians were just limited by their local products.”  And “today you can find Milanese in Palermo, Romans in Naples, and people from the South in the North.”  The local diets have become much more diverse.  And much richer, more protein, more meat.  And there are more and nicer restaurants with dishes moving about.  First, spaghetti and clams and more recently cacio e pepe can be found throughout a large part of the country plus a number of others.  At the least, May was on to something, and before most others.

Tajarin with white truffles at the San Marco in Canelli near Asti a few years ago

I somewhat recently included Lobster Fra Diavolo on a list of the best Italian-American dishes of all time.  Most popular in the northeast, especially the New York area and Boston – near where lobsters are caught – the dish takes the southern Italian tradition of shellfish with factory-made pasta to feature sumptuous lobsters.  It’s been found on Italian-themed restaurant menus since the 1930s, at least in New York where it is probably the most popular.  Featuring tomato sauce seasoned with plenty of chopped garlic, oregano and red pepper flakes, it’s another exuberant of Italian-American cooking.  “Fra diavolo” means “brother devil” in Italian and might suggest the heat of the red pepper flakes and also the red of the tomato sauce and cooked lobster.  The name might also reference the nickname of a legendary and vicious bandit in southern Italy who was the subject of a nineteenth century opera.
 
Lobster Fra Diavolo can be a rich and fun dish.  It might also have had a practical, or devious, reason for its creation.  On a gastronomic trip to Italy nearly a decade ago sponsored by the Gruppo Ristoranti Italiani, a restaurateur from Massachusetts mentioned to me that he believed Lobster Fra Diavolo likely was created many years earlier because restaurants had to cover the taste of seafood going bad.  If so, that gives an additional layer – maybe more substance, too – to the name of the dish, a slightly devilish one at that. 

A version of Lobster Fra Diavolo from Tagliata restaurant in Baltimore

That might seem to be an odd question, especially so if you are not as into that kind of food as am I.  If you ask an American what is Italian food, there is a good chance that you’ll get an answer that names dishes featuring a long-simmered tomato sauce like spaghetti and meatballs and chicken Parmesan along with garlic bread.  If you ask an Italian, someone from Italy, the response won’t include any preparations remotely like those, which they certainly don’t regard as being Italian.  They consider those American creations, rightly so.  Their answer might include some of the dishes from their town or region, and those items will likely depend on where the person comes from in Italy.  But, food served under the banner of Italian food here, at restaurants on supermarket shelves, will be seen as Italian food no matter the veracity.
 
I believe that Italian-themed restaurants in this country can be placed as under one of broadly three banners: Italian-American, Americanized Italian, and Italian.
 
Italian-American easily claims the largest number of restaurants and also dishes in the popular mind.  These restaurants serves items that come largely from the Italian-American tradition like those spaghetti and meatballs.  The preparations in the Italian-American tradition are rooted in the big wave of Italian immigration from the 1880s until 1924.  The vast majority of these people came from the Italian south where the tomato has a prominent place, and about half the dishes in the Italian-American canon originate in the Naples area like long-simmered tomato sauce, pasta and clams, and lasagna made with tomato-sauce and ricotta.  These dishes might have had roots in Italy, but were adapted and grew with American tastes, abundance, industrialization and pace of life.  The people who were eating these dishes were Americans, as the immigrants’ offspring and descendants were plus the generations of restaurant patrons.  The preparations at these restaurants, regardless of the provenance of the recipes, are generally much heartier, and meatier and cheesier than in Italy and frequently sporting some red color.  And, if a restaurant's menu touts its sauce, it's Italian-American.
 
But restaurants need to serve what people want, and the menus are not static.  These might often have pasta carbonara, fettuccine Alfredo and penne alla vodka, dishes born in Italy after the big emigration to America, but have become very American in interpretation here.  Steaks, too.  Americans love steak.
 
Similar to the Italian-American restaurant is the newest type, the Americanized Italian.  These do not hew to the Italian-American traditions for the most part, and use more contemporary ideas and products from Italy, but the food is generally different than it is in Italy.  These are often from a skilled chef who puts their spin on Italian dishes, or their notion of Italian dishes, and might use the Italian cooking philosophy as an inspiration.  The quality of ingredients is usually high, and sometimes expensive.  Italian descriptions are often used to portray a greater sense of authenticity or understanding, at least, even if the Italian is often mangled.
 
Restaurants that might be called Italian try to mimic how food is prepared in Italy, or in very capable and knowing hands, express the ethos of Italy and with Italian products when necessary.  The chef is almost always from Italy or has cooked there.  They know Italy.  Italian can be in one its regional or local variations, and from rustic to high cuisine to creative.  In the U.S., traditional and mostly authentic Italian usually features several dishes that are popular outside of Italy or popular in across a lot of Italy, especially the touristed cities and towns (e.g. cacio e pepe).  Truly Italian food can be tough to do, and its appearance in America is actually somewhat recent.  Tony May of the landmark San Domenico in New York was quoted in 2008 saying that "twenty years ago it was very difficult to reproduce regional Italian cuisine…..A chef couldn't get imported Parmigiano-Reggiano or buffalo milk mozzarella, virgin olive oil, prosciutto di Parma, or balsamic vinegar. Now, everybody can buy the finest of such ingredients, and it's made a tremendous difference in the taste of the food."  But, even so, the way we eat in this country is different than in Italy, what customers want is not the same, and restaurants need to make money.  "There's no point in being strictly authentic with an empty dining room," as Lidia Bastianich was quipped a few decades ago.  That’s one reason why authentic Italian restaurants can be hard to find here.
 
In Italy, Italian food means all of different things.  In this country, it can mean even more, and often items that are really more American than Italian.

The meat ravioli at the original Carrabba's in Houston