Carbone, not to be confused with Carbone’s (read more about this here), opened at the end of March in the Design District. It was a much-anticipated Dallas debut from Major Food Group run by Mario Carbone, Rich Torrisi and Jeff Zalaznick. The original location in New York City has received a Michelin star for its attempt to re-create an Italian-American New York restaurant from the '50s.
“The restaurant pays homage to the essence of the great Italian-American restaurants of the mid-20th century in New York, where delicious, exceptionally well-prepared food was served in settings that were simultaneously elegant, comfortable and unpretentious,” its website boasts. We like to feel comfortably unpretentious, so we were excited to snag a reservation for a friend’s birthday dinner.
The dining room is dark, with walls of dark wood and booths tucked away in arched alcoves padded with gold fabric, all on a dark parquet floor. Diners are bathed in dim light from a couple of chandeliers as well as small individual lamps on each table. It definitely has an old-school, mid-century feel, and that’s carried over by the extensive staff of greeters, cheese slicers, water bearers, drink refillers, sommeliers, bartenders, front-of-house hangers-on and, of course, waitstaff. It was a busy hive of activity full of people out of central casting for a summer Dean Martin special, and appropriately, “That’s Amore” could be heard playing a couple of times as well.
We settled in and were brought a large bowl of various breads, a small plate of salami and a little bowl of pickled cauliflower. Now, rumor has it that in New York tables often receive a complimentary bottle of limoncello, but such is not the case here. We were offered water, either sparkling or still, and if you say yes to either you pay for the privilege. We ordered tap. We were prepared. Before we could open the menus the cheese person, for want of a better job description, appeared, offering us each a nice chunk of Parmesan Reggiano chiseled at table side for us. As we nibbled on this unexpected treat, we opened the menu.
The menus are almost comical in size: a family of four could probably pitch one in lieu of a tent at a rainy campsite. They were a bit unwieldy, but again, this seems par for 1950s America, so we went with it. We each ordered a cocktail. The Old-Fashioned was a bit sweet, the Negroni and margarita average. This is where the Dallas restaurant broke with '50s New York: the cost of each drink could probably have fed a person for a week at the local automat back then.
Our antipasti selections began with the eggplant and zucchini scapece. We had wanted to also try the calamari, but they were out that evening, so we went with the next-best cephalopod and chose octopus pizzaiolo for our second starter. The scapece seemed a bit muddled, but had a good flavor, consisting of slices of eggplant and zucchini with ricotta and Parmesan in an acidic sauce served at room temperature. The grilled octopus included fingerling potatoes with bell and jalapeño peppers and was garnished with garlic chips. It was tender and had a bit of a bite to it brought on by the peppers.
For mains, we had a plate of spicy rigatoni vodka and orecchiette vito and shared a side of meatballs as well. The rigatoni seems to be a popular dish; researching (as one does) prior to our meal, we saw it mentioned often as a must-order. It’s really hard to see what all the fuss is about. The rigatoni themselves were small, and the sauce was rather bland and not at all spicy … and that’s all that was on the plate. What would basically be a side dish of mediocre pasta anywhere else was $33 here.
The orecchiette vito was al dente pasta with sausage and broccoli rabe pesto. It was rich and had a well-balanced flavor, if perhaps a bit too much meat. It clocked in at $31.
The meatballs, on the other hand, lived up to their much-deserved praise. These aren’t even on the menu, but we ordered them at the suggestion of the waiter. They come three to an order and really captured the nonna kitchen flavor: 100% pork and covered in a really good tomato sauce that tasted like it had been cooking slowly on the back burner all day. This was the highlight of the evening.
Dessert choices were tiramisu and carrot cake. The tiramisu, a four-layer affair sliced like a piece of Boston cream pie, was accompanied by a large lady finger on the side. It was not overly sweet or espresso-drenched.
The carrot cake was moist, lightly frosted and served with a dollop of vanilla ice cream. The birthday girl got the addition of a candle. Happy birthday, indeed.
So, in the final analysis, this was good, but was it “let’s cash a savings bond before we go out to eat tonight” good? Those are personal preferences, but to us the answer was no, and we’re actually hard-pressed to understand why this menu was awarded a Michelin star.
It is an experience. Still, maybe we’d prefer the type of 1950s New York City Italian restaurant like the one where Michael Corleone whacks that corrupt cop in The Godfather. That’s all the way up in the Bronx, however; the Design District is so much closer.
“The restaurant pays homage to the essence of the great Italian-American restaurants of the mid-20th century in New York, where delicious, exceptionally well-prepared food was served in settings that were simultaneously elegant, comfortable and unpretentious,” its website boasts. We like to feel comfortably unpretentious, so we were excited to snag a reservation for a friend’s birthday dinner.
The dining room is dark, with walls of dark wood and booths tucked away in arched alcoves padded with gold fabric, all on a dark parquet floor. Diners are bathed in dim light from a couple of chandeliers as well as small individual lamps on each table. It definitely has an old-school, mid-century feel, and that’s carried over by the extensive staff of greeters, cheese slicers, water bearers, drink refillers, sommeliers, bartenders, front-of-house hangers-on and, of course, waitstaff. It was a busy hive of activity full of people out of central casting for a summer Dean Martin special, and appropriately, “That’s Amore” could be heard playing a couple of times as well.
We settled in and were brought a large bowl of various breads, a small plate of salami and a little bowl of pickled cauliflower. Now, rumor has it that in New York tables often receive a complimentary bottle of limoncello, but such is not the case here. We were offered water, either sparkling or still, and if you say yes to either you pay for the privilege. We ordered tap. We were prepared. Before we could open the menus the cheese person, for want of a better job description, appeared, offering us each a nice chunk of Parmesan Reggiano chiseled at table side for us. As we nibbled on this unexpected treat, we opened the menu.
The menus are almost comical in size: a family of four could probably pitch one in lieu of a tent at a rainy campsite. They were a bit unwieldy, but again, this seems par for 1950s America, so we went with it. We each ordered a cocktail. The Old-Fashioned was a bit sweet, the Negroni and margarita average. This is where the Dallas restaurant broke with '50s New York: the cost of each drink could probably have fed a person for a week at the local automat back then.
Our antipasti selections began with the eggplant and zucchini scapece. We had wanted to also try the calamari, but they were out that evening, so we went with the next-best cephalopod and chose octopus pizzaiolo for our second starter. The scapece seemed a bit muddled, but had a good flavor, consisting of slices of eggplant and zucchini with ricotta and Parmesan in an acidic sauce served at room temperature. The grilled octopus included fingerling potatoes with bell and jalapeño peppers and was garnished with garlic chips. It was tender and had a bit of a bite to it brought on by the peppers.
For mains, we had a plate of spicy rigatoni vodka and orecchiette vito and shared a side of meatballs as well. The rigatoni seems to be a popular dish; researching (as one does) prior to our meal, we saw it mentioned often as a must-order. It’s really hard to see what all the fuss is about. The rigatoni themselves were small, and the sauce was rather bland and not at all spicy … and that’s all that was on the plate. What would basically be a side dish of mediocre pasta anywhere else was $33 here.
The orecchiette vito was al dente pasta with sausage and broccoli rabe pesto. It was rich and had a well-balanced flavor, if perhaps a bit too much meat. It clocked in at $31.
The meatballs, on the other hand, lived up to their much-deserved praise. These aren’t even on the menu, but we ordered them at the suggestion of the waiter. They come three to an order and really captured the nonna kitchen flavor: 100% pork and covered in a really good tomato sauce that tasted like it had been cooking slowly on the back burner all day. This was the highlight of the evening.
Dessert choices were tiramisu and carrot cake. The tiramisu, a four-layer affair sliced like a piece of Boston cream pie, was accompanied by a large lady finger on the side. It was not overly sweet or espresso-drenched.
The carrot cake was moist, lightly frosted and served with a dollop of vanilla ice cream. The birthday girl got the addition of a candle. Happy birthday, indeed.
So, in the final analysis, this was good, but was it “let’s cash a savings bond before we go out to eat tonight” good? Those are personal preferences, but to us the answer was no, and we’re actually hard-pressed to understand why this menu was awarded a Michelin star.
It is an experience. Still, maybe we’d prefer the type of 1950s New York City Italian restaurant like the one where Michael Corleone whacks that corrupt cop in The Godfather. That’s all the way up in the Bronx, however; the Design District is so much closer.
Carbone, 1617 Hi Line Drive. 5 p.m. – 11 p.m. Monday – Sunday
