The first time I ever walked into Bella Italia West (5139 Camp Bowie Blvd., 817-738-1700), the year was 1990-something, and I was a senior in high school. Even then, it was like eating in God’s waiting room. The crowd was as dusty as the décor, and the Italian/Portuguese menu read like an endangered species list. But. The place’s charm was undeniable. And the food, however simple and unflinchingly old school, was full of bold flavors. The Camp Bowie eatery has since held a special place in my imagination –– an anachronism in an ever-changing culinary scene and the last of its kind since Sardines Ristorante Italiano closed a few years ago.
I’ve passed the boxy old building a thousand times and wondered, How in the heck is that joint still open?! Who has taken the place of the grandparents of my grandparents’ generation, who once filled the dining room on the promise of elk, buffalo, emu, and all of the other game meats that were once considered exotic.
On a recent visit, I was both happy and incredulous to see that the dining room remained unchanged from the picture I had from my youth –– although the clientele was shockingly young. The walls are still covered in deer heads, large, vaguely Italian murals, and shabbily framed prints of great works of art.
My guest and I sat in a booth surrounded by a thin patchwork of lattice and old wine bottles. A man quietly plucking beautiful classical music on his guitar was just a few feet away. The lights were dim, and candles flickered atop starched while tablecloths. There are depressingly few restaurants that truly get what it means to set a romantic mood –– Bella is most assuredly one of them.
The menu is separated into halves. On one side are all of the usual upscale Italian suspects –– most experienced diners could fill in the blanks if the menu were given as a test in fine dining Italian 101: scallopini al ____ and ____ e melone.
The flipside of the menu looked like critters that were once target practice for a certain Minnesota dentist. My guest and I stuck to that side exclusively, choosing to satisfy our sense of adventure over comfort.
Our dinner started with an amuse bouche of bruschetta, with fresh tomatoes and an overpowering garlic flavor. That tiny morsel set our palates for the quail alla grappa ($14), two tender, succulent birds served with a touch of sauce that tasted of strong garlic, butter, and white wine flavors.
The entrées harked back to a much simpler era of fine dining. Both were served with the same sides of less-than-thrilling pasta and a bizarre but delicious broccoli casserole that had the consistency of baby food that spent too much time in the microwave.
The buffalo steak ($38) was lean, juicy, and perfectly cooked medium rare. Expertly seasoned with just the right amount of salt and pepper and drenched in a sauce of its own deglazed au jus, the steak was simple yet remarkable.
The evening’s seafood feature, a buttery, flaky redfish ($28), was served with a sauce similar to the one that accompanied the first course. Every bite was truly a treat.
There just aren’t enough places like Bella around anymore. Instead of driving by, stop in for a lesson on elegant, traditional fine dining.
Contact Chow, Baby at chowbaby@fwweekly.com
