Here’s the thing about Donna Albanese of Piola (3700 Mattison Av.): Every time you see her, she’s gotten more beautiful. Yeah, nice for her and all, but the problem is that we’re talking so many orders of beauty magnitude that Chow, Baby often doesn’t even recognize Donna from one cheek-kiss to the next. Which is highly embarrassing, because you can repeat “Sorry, it’s because you look so great now” only so many times before it starts sounding like “Sorry, it’s because you used to look like crap.” Which she never did. Let’s just get that clear.
Piola is back open already, an amazingly speedy resurrection (Chow, Baby had a $5 bet down on Mother’s Day) after a February fire that took out the roof and most of the kitchen. While the patio is like Donna – lovelier with each visit – the redone inside is more like hubby-restaurateur Bobby Albanese: exactly the same. The dining areas of this Arlington Heights bungalow look just as they did on opening day a year and a half ago, and Bobby looks exactly as he did the day Chow, Baby first laid eyes on him, around the turn of the century, at Ciao (remember that yummy place on Commerce Street?). Exactly the same. It’s spooky.
Oh, and then there’s Matt. In a restaurant full of great servers – oh, and great waterboys, too; they fixate on your water glass like it’s the baton in a relay race – Matt’s menu knowledge and infinite patience combine to make Chow, Baby want to rest forever in Piola’s beautiful garden patio, with its fireplace and waterfall and greenery, while he brings to the table whatever he sees fit. On this night, it was some new menu items (no fears, the old faves are still there too): first, eggplant rollatine just like Bobby used to serve at Ciao: thin slices of eggplant rolled up with ricotta, mozzarella, red peppers, and arugula, floating on popping-fresh marinara and pesto ($7.95). Then, a revamped version of Piola’s antipasti plate ($8.95, good for two), this one hitting all the taste buds with spicy capicola, mild Italian sausage, nutty fontina, creamy manchego, and sweet black grapes. What a great life, to sit here with this plate and a glass of wine and a crowd of mostly old people – not near-deaf-and-yelling-old, but just old enough to murmur politely amongst themselves. Perfect.
The patio crowd shifted younger as Chow, Baby started on its Matt-recommended cappuccino-crusted pork tenderloin ($19.95), paired with a glorious blackberry demi-glace just in case it wasn’t tasty enough on its own. Still, only one table was giggly, and much of the treble was masked by the soothing waterfall. Sooo soothing. Did Chow, Baby already mention it wanted to sit here forever? Maybe it should, as somewhere in its job description is “try new dishes”: post-fire menu entrées include classic chicken piccata ($14.95), veal piccata ($16.95), pepper-crusted filet mignon ($29.95) with crispy pancetta and port wine demi-glace, and a very tempting tilapia papilloté ($19.95). The lunch menu, too, has gotten a sprucing, now with sandwiches ($6.95) and a “pizza trio” ($7.95) – a personal-size pizza that’s one third margarita, one third green olives and capicola, and one third spinach-artichoke Alfredo. You know what would go great with that? A beautiful patio …
Contact Chow, Baby at chowbaby@fwweekly.com.
