By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Alice Laussade
By City of Ate
By Scott Reitz
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Alice Laussade
Diners in this area have an uncanny willingness to accept dull ritual, to trade quality and service for the uncertain benefits of proximity, atmosphere and habit. In other words, locals happily settle for second-rate "comfort" food, even rave about it. This curious aspect of Dallas culture fuels crowds at substandard Tex-Mex places, for example, and stems in part from tensions built up between the real and what we wish to acknowledge. Sound a bit obscure? Compare margaritas at the population's favorite spot with those served at Agave Azul in Carrollton. Head to Deep Ellum for some Italian dishes, then hightail it up to Nicola's in Plano for the same stuff. Yet when residents of the M Streets or Lakewood speak of their homes and establishments, the word "character" usually finds its way into the conversation at some point. Turn their thoughts to the 'burbs or Mid-Cities, and these same folk complain of soulless strips of neon and chain restaurants.
Enter into this strange milieu Bravo Italia Café and Bar. Find it by rounding DFW International Airport, zooming past the blazing fields of Hooter's, Joe's Crab Shack, Outback and other confirmations of bland familiarity, past auto dealerships and public storage firms, to the very edge of--you guessed it--a soulless strip shopping center. The room, the vibe and the service mimics that of a quaint mom-and-pop neighborhood holdout. White tablecloths suggest elegance, until you notice the thin paper placemat set atop the linen. Curtains of burgundy and gold lend an intimate feel quickly broken by the casual outfits of other patrons. On a Saturday night visit several high school-age girls stopped in wearing what appeared to be pajama bottoms.
2030 Glade Road
Grapevine, TX 76051-7361
Crab claws $8.95
Ravioli appetizer $6.95
Fettucini Alfredo $10.95
Veal piccata $14.95
Veal parmigiana $14.95
Shrimp scampi $12.95
Crème brûlée $5.50
Hey, it's the Mid-Cities. Right?
Residents of communities north and west of Dallas know those trapped inside the loop will never understand the attraction. Chef David McMillan caused a mass eyebrow-raising when he abandoned Nana for the emptiness of Colleyville. Imagine, a big-name talent heading out to Olive Garden land. He calmly pointed out that households around his new restaurant, 62 Main, earn well over six figures on average. Leave Bravo Italia and head west into Colleyville and Hurst, and you'll pass glorious mansions set along a narrow, tree-lined road. It's almost like driving along Mockingbird in Highland Park. Just newer gaudiness, older trees and less traffic. Another thing: Scorn chain restaurants all you wish, they satisfy the needs of parents toting finicky kids and people crushed for time by work, soccer games and long commutes. While denizens of Dallas will happily queue up for iffy meals in rustic settings, these people value consistency more than quirkiness.
What else could explain the lackluster response to Grapevine's little Italian spot? We counted four others in the place on a Wednesday night and a modest group three evenings later, a Saturday.
Ambience can't be the reason for the relative quiet. One feels an instant sense of relaxation inside, and service reinforces the comforting feel. The owners move deftly between widely separated diners, showing discreet care for each guest's experience. Besides, patrons of many other establishments in Grapevine, Euless, Bedford or the like gaze out at a Washington Mutual and a sea of asphalt while digging into appetizers. Maybe price point is scaring people away. Let's see: With the exception of filet mignon, entrees top out at $14.95, and a decent bottle of Rodney Strong Chardonnay runs only $26.
No, Bravo Italia suffers from the bugaboo of inconsistency. Ravioli stuffed with a combination of ricotta and mozzarella wades in a lime-tinted pool of basil cream sauce. Sampled alone, the blend of butter, cream, garlic, Parmesan and (of course) basil jolts the palate with acrid, bitter notes. Scoop it up with ravioli and the unpleasant tones subside, re-emerging as a rich and herbal complement to the pasta. Compare this interesting and worthwhile dish with shrimp and avocado, an embarrassing bowl of funky shellfish in a slightly spiced cream sauce. It's an onslaught of mediocrity. Listed as crab claws on the menu, the small arthropod legs bulge with as much meat as skittering appendages carry. Garlic butter so decadent it quickly begins to separate saves crab flesh more fishy than sweet, as if frozen for an extended period. Tortellini is almost meaningless, in that the dull veal surrounded by sticky pasta fails to burst from a vaguely salty and tart cream sauce.
And those are just the appetizers.
One of the outstanding features of Bravo Italia's menu, besides appealing wine at reasonable prices, is its flexibility. The aforementioned tortellini and ravioli starters also appear in entrée form. You can add chicken, sausage or shrimp to basic pastas, such as fettucini Alfredo or capellini pomodoro. Classic presentations--piccata, marsala, parmigiana--come with veal or chicken. Rather pick at spinach than the mundane house salad? No problem.
The real problem becomes apparent when entrees arrive. No inconsistency here: Everything we tried disappointed. Veal piccata was uninspiring, the sort one expects to find at a chain restaurant. In its parmigiana form, fried young meat hides under a soggy and less-than-impressive crust and gooey mess resembling cheese. The homemade tomato sauce, on the other hand, was peppered with an array of herbs, including pepper, basil, garlic, rosemary and so much oregano it wrapped up the flavors to a clean, sharp finish. But Bravo Italia is clearly proud of its skill with a pan and some melted fat and liquids. Otherwise, a simple, unadorned fettucini Alfredo seemed commonplace, the cream sauce too subtle to boost average pasta. The first ingredient mentioned in shrimp scampi lacked the light, breezy essence of fresh shrimp and thus failed to balance stronger herbal notes.