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Francesco's is comfy, gooey Italian fare
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Published: May 7, 2009
Fads come and go. Recessions come and stay for awhile. But will we ever turn our backs on gooey, saucy, Italian-American fare? It's probably why the gourmet gurus are sticking their fingers into the wind and declaring that comfort food is back. Did it ever leave?
But where to scratch that itch for a big plate of pasta, Lady and the Tramp style? We're not exactly known for our meatballs in North Carolina.
You could do worse than Francesco's. In fact, Francesco's could quite easily steal away a little piece of your heart, the corner reserved for all things cheesy and garlicky, with heady doses of basil thrown in for good measure.
Right now, for instance, I'm sitting at my desk with papers and notebooks scattered around me, nothing gooey or melty in sight. But I can't get the mozzarella in carrozza out of my head. Sometimes called mozzarella en carrozza (mozzarella in a carriage), this is the Italian edition of a grilled-cheese sandwich. But what's the best part? The cheese, of course. With Francesco's version, that's mostly what you get -- two gently fried slices of mozzarella (buffalo, the menu claims), breaded and pooled by creamy tomato sauce. We ordered this along with an appetizer of antipasti, a special -- a large plate of thinly-sliced salami, ham, cheese, pickled vegetables, banana peppers and most strangely, canned-tasting corn. It was an abbondanza -- an abundance -- but we pretty much ignored it because the mozzarella was so delicious.
Francesco Parascandolo opened Francesco's late last year, adding the restaurant to two others (Francesco's on Summit Square Boulevard and Frank's Grill in Rural Hall) he owns and operates with Carmine Farina. Parascandolo and Farina are natives of Naples.
Given that, I hoped for more authentic Italian dishes, not just American adaptations. Maybe it's Francesco's audience -- lots of families, with kids -- but there are still chicken wings and fingers on the menu.
Yet, there are some good things to eat and drink, too -- hot, crisp, fried calamari that a server whisked to the table fast, because, as she told us, she knew it tasted best hot; a wine list that includes marinara sauce-friendly Italian reds, such as Dolcetto and Nero d'Avola by the glass.
Francesco's pizza is perfectly fine. It's not fancy neo-Neapolitan. It didn't remind me of the goopy work of art that is true New York style. It's somewhere in between, with a thin (but not as thin as I like) and a slightly charred crust. It's lacking oomph somewhere, though -- in the sauce, in the seasonings or maybe the cheese.
There are a few pizza options beyond the everyday -- thick, Sicilian-style, and Caprese, a tasty combination of sauceless white pizza with fresh basil and sliced tomatoes.
A calzone was probably the best thing I've had here, a crispy, crunchy pocket dusted with herbs, oil and cheese and filled with fresh spinach, mushrooms, pepperoni, and a good mix of creamy ricotta and mozzarella, but not too much. Francesco's calzones come in two sizes, which I like, because the smaller one is priced ($6.50, plus 75 cents for extra fillings) and sized correctly for one person. On the side, the tomato sauce is slightly sweet, chunky and light.
Pastas and entrees -- a long list of ravioli, baked and sauteed varieties, along with classics such as chicken Parmesan, cacciatore or Marsala -- come with salad, hot bread and olive oil flecked with herbs. I like veal saltimbocca, but I wasn't wild about this version -- the veal was tough, and spinach replaced the traditional sage. Another pasta, baked gnocchi with meat sauce, tasted overcooked and mushy.
The side salads are made of standard-issue iceberg and maybe green leaf lettuce, but Frank's salad is better, basically an abundant bowl of antipasti on a bed of lettuce -- though, again with the canned-tasting corn. As for dressings, we tried the house-made Italian hoping to find something different. But it's too tart, with an unpleasant vegetal tang that tasted like unripe peppers. Stick to oil and vinegar.
This is a restaurant that believes in lots of wood trim, and in booths for everyone, which fits the cozy theme. I love booth seats -- it's a table, it's a couch, it's a little room -- and my favorite place to sit in Francesco's is in a booth next to the front window, bathed by red and green neon signs promising "Seafood and Pasta" and "Chicken and Veal." It feels a little like Little Italy, or Little Italy on Jonestown Road in a strip mall.
One night for dessert, Francesco's was serving lemon gelato from Caffe Prada, a light footnote to such a heavy meal. I wish we had ordered it. Instead, we got likely-from-a-box tiramisu -- it was still icy in the center -- and an OK cannoli. I saw couples spooning up their gelato and caught a serious case of food envy.
Francesco's servers are sweet, hard workers and real. When they ask what kind of pasta you'd like with your entree, you don't just have a choice of spaghetti -- they rattle off a whole list that includes linguine and fettuccine. My husband and I got carded here twice. And one night we got a sassy waitress who apologized for the music, something dark and acoustic but was probably getting on her nerves more than ours. It was the coffeehouse channel on Satellite Radio, she said. On it she's even heard an acoustic version of Michael Jackson's "Billy Jean." I felt as if we were lifted to a no-nonsense neighborhood restaurant far away from the polite South. I like the attitude. And I kind of wanted to hear that version of "Billy Jean" after she told us.
I'd return to try mussels sauteed on the half shell with marinara sauce, and linguine del boscaiolo (marinara sauce with eggplant, mushrooms and peppers). And my husband is on a lifelong quest to find the baked ziti he remembers eating as a kid.
That's what's almost universal about this kind of comfort food. Who doesn't remember spaghetti and meatballs with any kind of yearning? It's memory-conjuring, like the sticky and faded pages of an old photo album.
The trouble is, the food on our plate doesn't always match our reminiscences -- the cheese is always a little creamier, the sauce spicier, the baked ziti a little crunchier on top.
Until it does, Francesco's will do.
The Scoop
Francesco's Restaurant and Pizzeria
Location: 420 Jonestown Road, 377-3332.
Web site: www.francescostriad.com.
Hours: 11 a.m. to 9:30 p.m. Monday through Thursday; 11 a.m. to 10:30 p.m. Friday and Saturday; noon to 9:30 p.m. Sunday.
Reservations: Will take for larger groups of 15 or more people.
Type of cuisine: Red-saucy Italian-American.
Alcohol: Beer (including Moretti, a pale Italian lager) and wine (including some food-friendly Italian reds, such as Dolcetto).
Smoking: Non-smoking.
Health-department rating: 93 percent.
Price range: Soups, salads and appetizers: $2-$7.50; subs and sandwiches: $6-$7.50; pizza, calzone and stromboli: $6.50-$18.70; pasta and entrees: $7-$14; desserts: $3-$3.25.
Credit cards: Visa, MasterCard, American Express, Discover.
Atmosphere: A low-frills dining room lined with lots of snug booths and dim lighting.
The wait: Minimal, if any.
Service: Down-to-earth and friendly, but not too familiar. Servers know the menu, but know less about the wine list.
Be sure to try: Mozzarella in carrozza; pizza Caprese; Frank's salad; cannoli; calzone.
Stay away from: Gnocchi Sorrento; veal saltimbocca; tiramisu.
Will I go back?: Yes. The baked ziti quest continues!
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