Bluer Skies Over Texas — Finding Hospitality in Dallas

I read about a new “Italian” place in my neighborhood. While out running errands with my dog, Rocco, I stopped by the shopping center where the new place was said to be. Parked nearby, Rocco and I sauntered over to the place; there was an “open” neon sign with the lights on. On the patio, tables were dotted about here and there, and at the table nearest the door two women were sitting. One of them stood up and said, “What a cute little dog!” She was one of the two owners, sisters, who were enjoying a lunch break before the Saturday night guests arrived. “Are you coming for lunch?” the older sister asked. I said I was just out and about and wanted to check out their menu and maybe their wine list. I asked even more gingerly than I had asked at the pizzeria a month ago, not wanting to duplicate that experience. “We are proud of our list,” she said. “It is small, but we hope we have chosen wisely for our guests, you know, to match the food.” Music to my ears. No hyperbole. No “you will be impressed.” Instead, humility. I was relieved, to say the least. While conversing with the sister, I mentioned that I had been in the wine business (not sure I said Italian wine business) for my career. “Oh, you must help us with the list, tell us what we need to add.” Was I dreaming? Someone wanted my opinion? Humility conjoined with respect? Somebody, wake me.

Well, we are in Texas. And we’ve all been witness to some astounding social changes, both here and countrywide. So, maybe this is all a dream. Or maybe, just maybe, the tide is finally turning.

Of course, my primary focus in this post is hospitality with an Italian flair. I’ve been harping on that subject for the last month or so. For some reason, dining out has become less of a pleasure and more of a chore. We’ve been shuttled off to a cold, dark, noisy corners in completely empty dining rooms. Right next to the door to the kitchen or the hallway to the restrooms. It goes like that, I am told, for the older dining set. “They can’t hear that well. They need to be close to the bathrooms.” I hear all kinds of b.s. rationalizing it. And they still want a 22.5 percent tip for telling me their life story and also telling me how to dine. I’m not resentful, no. At least we’re not invisible, for the time being. But we didn’t just fall off the turnip truck either, ragazzi.

So, when the two sisters greeted me and Rocco, I sensed something I hadn’t felt since I was last in Italy. Eye contact. Attention. Time for me. In other words, hospitality.

What I am trying to get at here is that a restaurant can lack all sorts of talent in the kitchen but make up for it in creating a warm, inviting, hospitable, respectful, humble setting. Add a patio and make it pet friendly, as in this case, and the beast in me might be assuaged. Oh, and with a nice glass of dry white wine to go with the crisp, cool autumn days that have finally arrived.

Yes, this has been a helluva week. And now we have two Italian-esque restaurants (with pet friendly patios) in the ‘hood. Oh, happy day!

I know, I know, I’ve lamented in too many other posts about the lack of authentic Italian fare in local restaurants, and I’ve pretty much given up on that search for the Golden Fleece in these parts. But what I know about working within one’s limitations is that if someone can put out a good, healthy, well-considered plate of food, in this case in the vein of the American-Italian bailiwick, and fill the restaurant to overflowing with the hospitality vibe, I could go for that. I don’t have to hop on a plane. In fact, in this case, I could even walk to the place. That’s bonus points on my scorecard. I might even order the Chicken Parm.

The restaurant in question HERE

 

© written and photographed (in Italy) by Alfonso Cevola limited rights reserved On the Wine Trail in Italy

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