AUTHENTIC ITALIAN
RESTAURANT REVIEW
Driving to San Remo Rustico Ristorante, I had the sneaking suspicion we’d be eating in someone’s living room.
That was the vibe when I checked to make sure the Stoney Creek restaurant (which has precious little web presence) was even open.
“Yes,” came the greeting when I called.
“Hi, how late are you open?” I asked. “Yes.” “Ummm … sorry, how late are you open?” “Eleven.” “OK thanks,” I said. “You’re coming over for dinner?” Wondering at that point if I had called a restaurant or someone’s mother, I answered with a question. “Yes?” “OK,” the voice said, and hung up.
San Remo is a boxy white building. Utilitarian-looking except for the single front window that, packed with plants, blazes warm and inviting.
Signs advertise the place under no less than three variations on its name — Rustico! San Remo! Battlefield Rustico! (It’s directly in front of Battlefield Park.)
When you enter the door off the parking lot, you’re at a cafeteriastyle takeout window where you can pick up pasta and sandwiches. Pass that, however, and you’re in an L-shaped dining room full of tables that seat anywhere from two to 12.
Fake plastic lemons hang from the ceiling. A film poster advertises the movie “Scarface.” Church plays on a TV screen in the far corner.
“You watching the series?” joked a couple, the only other customers in the restaurant. “This one’s a repeat, but it’s still good.”
Family photos and maps of Italy hang throughout. A photocopy of the owners’ 50th wedding anniversary announcement is tacked up. Italian accordion music plays.
The icing on the cake, though, was walking into this and finding owner Roberto Silvestri standing in the centre of the room, wearing a massive grin beneath a moustache so full in its face-coverage, it was borderline beard.
He spread his arms in welcome and asked our party of three what we wanted to drink.
After his wife had shuffled out of the kitchen to bring us “good vino” (a $17 litre served in ’90s-era commemorative Olympics wine glasses), he came over with two questions.
Meatballs, chicken parmigiana or veal parmigiana? Spaghetti or fettuccine?
When he joined his wife in the kitchen (it’s just the two of them cooking and serving), the other couple leaned over and asked if it was our first time there.
Seasoned veterans, they told us they visit weekly.
There’s not really a menu. If you’re a regular, and you know to ask for gnocchi, you can. If you want lasagna, call a couple hours ahead because everything, right down to the noodles, is made to order. Otherwise, relinquish control. You won’t be disappointed. So we did. And we weren’t. The meal started with an appetizer that consisted of two breaded green olives stuffed with what tasted like ricotta. Warm and salty, they were crisp without being overly battered. Just a thin crust, golden and easily broken by the teeth.
There was also a slice each of thin white bread, spread with chunky garlic butter. After that came the entrées. The regulars were right. The pasta was incredible. Linguine can sometimes be thick and wheaty. This was light, delicate. It was as though it had been made with flour ground down a dozen times to achieve a refined, dainty texture.
The chicken and the veal were both lightly breaded, with crisp edges, not the soggy job you sometimes find with parmigiana. Both were topped with cheese, but not so much that it overpowered the thinly pounded meat. The chicken was moist inside, the kind of juicy that explodes in your mouth.
The sauce was so meaty, I thought it had to be ground beef, but it was simply a super chunky tomato sauce, packed with onions and garlic.
Throughout, the Silvestris checked in to chat, make sure we were enjoying ourselves and to apologize for the length of wait (though, honestly, the meal came as quickly as any place I’ve been).
Here’s the long and short of it — don’t go to San Remo if you want to request substitutions, or if you have dietary restrictions.
Don’t go there expecting to get the appetizers mentioned above, or even that you’ll get exactly what you order.
One in our trio asked for spaghetti and ended up with linguine. But you know what? The wine is red. It’s good. Drink it.
The pasta is fresh. It’s handmade. Eat it.
The food is delicious and the experience singular. Have it.