Dining at the new Caffe Giorgio at the not-yet-fully open Mandalay Place, I had a minor epiphany. I was with my wife, another couple, and a pair of 11-year-old boys, marveling at all the glitter and style, when I was told that this would be the boys' first experience in a modern, upscale Italian restaurant. Would they like it, we wondered.
Suddenly, childhood memories of fine dining came back to me in a flash flood, and I recalled my first time in an Italian restaurant, back in the days when antipasto consisted of lettuce, tomatoes, salami, Provolone cheese and pepperoncini, pickled sport peppers fresh out of a jar. That was the Stone Age for Americans in terms of Italian dining. (Even if we were, at the time, happy.)
But that was then, this is now, and strangely enough, both boys loved it. Seeing them happily chowing down on shrimp with white beans; porchetta, fine, fatty slices of imported pork roast; and pizza with porcini, baby arugula and prosciutto, it made me realize how we have grown in terms of eating Italian, how eclectic we have become as an eating public. Arugula in the '50s? Unthinkable.
One of those deserving credit for these developments is Piero Selvaggio, a true pioneer of quality Italian dining in this country. Selvaggio owns Valentino in the Venetian, and the original restaurant of the same name in Santa Monica, where for almost 25 years, he has championed boutique wines, imported products, and young chefs.
His partner at Caffe Giorgio, in fact, is a chef he brought to the U.S. when he was only 20, Luciano Pellegrini, who today happens to be the executive chef at Vegas' Valentino. Pellegrini, from Bergamo, an hour's drive from Milan, grew up eating food completely unrelated to the red sauce, garlic and pepper-laden fare most of us think of when Italian food is mentioned.
The menu at Caffe Giorgio, which Pellegrini devised along with Selvaggio, is loaded with northern Italian favorites like lasagna alla Bolognese, layered with veal ragu and a rich Bechamel sauce; and pappa al pomodoro, a comforting, thick, Tuscan tomato soup, made with day-old bread.
But this is first and foremost a caffe, or trattoria, so expect lots of pizzas, gelati, desserts, and the cafe's strong suit, assorted appetizers, antipasti in Italian, from a unique antipasto bar.
There are three distinct components to the space. The first is an artistic crystal bar area, fronted by that antipasto bar and a gelateria, Italian for ice cream bar. In the middle room, there is fine dining, and elements like designer carpeting, white tablecloths, and giant flower sprays you'd expect only in Europe. The back area is intended for private parties.
The nicest thing about Caffe Giorgio may be that it was designed to be all things to all people. What that translates into is that when you come, you'll see people standing against the bar eating pizza; sedate, serious folk working on pasta and lamb chops in the dining room; and large, festive groups festooned with name tags, milling around the back area.
Most of the food is first-rate. No one will want to miss dishes from the antipasto bar like totani ripieni, plump calamari stuffed with breadcrumbs and seafood; baked artichokes; star anise-cured and marinated salmon; or gamberetti e cannellini, a warm shrimp and white bean salad redolent of garlic and olive oil.
(Or for that matter, any of the items marked cold cuts, speck, a smoked ham from Italy's extreme north, and sorpressata, spicy salami cut razor thin, being the best two of a good lot.)
The chef has been monkeying around with pizza dough since Day One, and it appears he has finally found the magic: a thin, crisp, full-flavored crust. Pizza Lily, named for his 4-year-old, is topped simply with tomato, cheese and bacon, and is a delight. Pizza rustica, more of a southern Italian inspiration, is like a straight-up sausage pizza with sun-dried tomatoes and roasted peppers.
There also is more serious food here, for those looking for a fine-dining experience. Orecchiette alla Barese is a southern specialty that eschews tomatoes, little pasta "ears," tossed around with broccoli rabe, olive oil and a lot of chopped garlic, not to mention air-dried ricotta cheese.
Among the more sophisticated entrees, choose pan-roasted arctic char (a mild version of salmon or stronger version of trout) with lemon, capers and spinach; or braccioline di vitello, rolled veal sautéed with butter and sage.
As in all Selvaggio restaurants, there are dozens of wines by the glass. As for dessert, many customers finish with a few scoops of those irresistible Italian ice creams, hazelnut, zabaglione or a watermelon sorbet, for instance. But Desiree Betancourt, the resident pastry chef, makes the best Sicilian-style cheesecake, known here as cassata, I've ever tasted. Even the 11-year-old in me thinks so.