1500 Bartons Springs Road
Austin, Texas 78704
512.476.1090
www.austinromeos.com
Some people grow up in a religious house. Some grow up in a naked house (you know what I am talking about). I grew up in a Brit-Com house. The child of intellectual elitists, it simply could not be helped. My father especially is fond of the absurdity, innuendos and pun of our neighbors across the pond. Instead of watching Cartoon Network, our television screen was populated by the likes of Rowan Atkinson, John Cleese and Patricia Routledge. Naturally, this all led me to Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I could never get enough of King Arthur and all those ridiculous antics. And who doesn’t like the idea of searching for something mythical and seemingly unattainable?
So, maybe that was my inspiration last weekend when I decided to take some visiting family for an Italian dinner. Austin does a great enchilada, burger, pizza, more enchiladas, but Italian? Not so much.
My first job was waiting tables for a tiny hole-in-the-wall Italian place. I wasn’t old enough to drive, but it was close to my house and the owner paid me cash. I loved the smells and the sight of watching pizza dough being hand-tossed in the air. I have been searching for just such a gem here in the capital. That quest led us to Romeo’s. I had heard about their good happy hour, though little about the food. Now I know why. First, I have to say that the service was great, with our waiter being pleasant and accommodating. I also took advantage of their good wine list and we enjoyed a nice, smooth bottle of red. Unfortunately, that is where my accolades end.
My litmus test of Italian restaurants is their Eggplant Parmesan. I mean, everyone has their thing, right? Frankly, it seems to be a dish that is hard to mess up. Then again, I live in a town where businesses and individuals, use “capitol” and “capital” interchangeably, so you never know. Instead of layers of long ,elegant, purplish plant or a stack of thin eggplant coins, I received a plate with four bricks of eggplant. Literally. Not lightly breaded. Not anything. Just four two-inch thick slabs of eggplant with a piece of mozzarella on top. On the side was an afterthought of penne with marinara sauce. I wanted to like it, really I did, but the whole thing was just less than underwhelming.
I also sampled a bit of traditional lasagna, fettuccini alfredo and arrabiatta, a pasta in white wine cream sauce with prosciutto, tomatoes, mushrooms and cracked red pepper. The lasagna was a yummy looking presentation, with lots of spicy Italian sausage. Other than that, I am not sure what happened to the flavor, but it seemed to have grown legs and gone across the street to have a drink. Everything was lacking punch.
Because we were sitting outside, I had brought along another member of the family, my Golden Retriever mutt. As a reward for behaving so nicely, I dropped a bit of my pasta in her bowl. She just sniffed it. Disdainfully. Please keep in mind; this is a dog that eats flattened frogs off the road. She roots out cotton balls and swallows them whole. She once ate a fruit explosion soy candle. But she would not touch the noodles.
After dinner, we decided to skip dessert at Romeo’s. None of us wanted to stick around to find out if their fig bread pudding made the grade. We opted for a neighborhood ice cream joint instead. And so my quest continues. I long for the day when I will fart in the general direction of knights on imaginary horses and when Austin will offer up some real Italian fare. At this rate, I think the knights might show up first.
by Phyllis Anastasia Gasper
[Photo: Debora Drower]
