Tough guys don't dice? Former professional boxer Marc Randazzo KOs that old saw on a daily basis at Randazzo's Little Italy, where the agile cruiserweight weighs in as chef and owner. The verdict: He's a champ in the kitchen.
Tough guys don't dice? Former professional boxer Marc Randazzo KOs that old saw on a daily basis at Randazzo's Little Italy, where the agile cruiserweight weighs in as chef and owner. The verdict: He's a champ in the kitchen.
Growing up in Chicago, Randazzo was expected to help cook dinner each night. It quickly became a labor of love, he says, as he learned Italian standards from his nonna.
Many of those dishes are on the menu of his restaurant, where The Godfather plays silently on several TVs, waiters dress like gangsters and boxing gloves dangle from the red walls.
Religious statues, grapevine lights, antique bar pieces and boxing memorabilia create an ambience that's half speakeasy, half nonna's parlor. When not cooking, Randazzo can be found working the room, looking like a Ninja in his chef togs and headband.
Dishes like mussels marinara Colangelo, fried calamari Dundee and mozzarella Lou Duva are named for boxing greats. And Randazzo writes in a menu note: ``I hope you enjoyed your dinner. If you did, please let us know. If you didn't, then call my mother in Chicago. They're her recipes. Phone number upon request.''
Obviously, he's having a lot of fun in his second career, but that is not to say he doesn't take cooking seriously. The food is fresh and for the most part delivers a genuine gourmet punch.
A classic Caesar salad is served over a mound of prosciutto, but the tart dressing quickly overpowers the thin strips of ham. Better choices are a vinaigrette-dressed salad of mixed greens, tomato, onion, black olives and Gorgonzola and a simple bread salad with fresh tomatoes and red onions.
My dining companion is always eager to go a few rounds with sausage dishes, particularly sausage and pappardelle, wide egg noodles that are a perfect match for the soft, sage-scented homemade sausage in tomato sauce. Escarole and beans ($12) also comes with homemade sausage.
Veal chop Milanese, filet mignon Gorgonzola, lamb chops and nine pasta dishes tempt, as does the fictitious ''lobster, caviar and rare truffles pasta.'' (''Fuggidabout It,'' Randazzo writes in the menu description. ``No, really, forget about it. I took it off the menu.'')
A special of Chilean sea bass in parchment ($24.95) is spectacular, the moist fish tasting as rich as lobster and festooned with mussels, clams and shrimp. A half-dozen other fish and seafood renditions beckon us to return.
There's a broad selection of Italian and California wines, with most bottles in the $28-to-$48 range. Ten are available by the glass for $7 to $12. Randazzo is still fine-tuning the wine list, but he has a handle on trends. On our recent crush-time trip to California, the buzz was about Barbaresco, newly cultivated there. For those who want to see what they're striving for in Sonoma, Randazzo's lists a 1999 Gaja Barbaresco from Piemonte for $275.
Desserts are the usual suspects, cheesecake, tiramisu and cannoli, which our waiter called ''the best in town.'' After polishing off two fat ones -- the buttery pastry enfolding a creamy ricotta filling strewn liberally with pistachios -- we couldn't agree more.
Randazzo puts it bluntly on the menu: ``Shut up and eat a cannoli. It's 10,000 calories. So what. You ain't a model.''
