It was déjà vu all over again. A foodie friend, the source of some great past finds, for months had been recommending this unimpressive looking place in darkest Johnston. Stepping inside Café Andiamo, Johnnie and I could see that slick corporate design wasn’t one of its offerings. Mix and match tables and chairs crowded the small room. Aperitif posters were the main decorative element, apart from the garland of artificial ivy and fruit drooping above the front window and door. So far, so so.
As we looked over the menu and specials card on the table, it didn’t take Johnnie long to ask what I was smiling about. Among the appetizers, one of the regular items is smelts, which was trumped by tripe as one of the specials. Neither would be a fast mover at your local Olive Garden. Both indicate that the kitchen takes its marching orders from first-generation regulars and their nostalgic offspring. I relaxed. We were in good hands.
I promptly ordered those smelts ($8.99) even before the other two couples of our party arrived. Eventually, everybody was won over, even those who would never choose the item themselves. Looking like oversized sardines, the fish had only been lightly dredged in flour before being fried and filled with chopped olives, served over Romaine leaves with a sherry vinaigrette. The fresh flavor, not at all fishy tasting, pleased everyone.
Another appetizer, Pasticcio di Melanzane ($8.99), was the next hit, ordered by the friend who’d loved it here before. The plum tomato sauce was tasty and the mozzarella didn’t overwhelm the proportions, but the grilled slices of eggplant also sandwiched a layer of high-quality prosciutto, which gave a bass note of smokiness to the assemblage.
My friend ordered the tripe ($9.99) as well, but what looked like small squares of honeycomb in red sauce had only the two of us enthusiastically reaching for it. The fork-cuttable pieces were chewy, but not tough, and not as fatty as I’d recalled. Visiting tables later, chef Pietro Senes noted how the dish is more popular in Rome than in his native Sardinia, and that the quality was assured by using Black Angus.
Speaking of Rome, one of our diners got rather obsessed with linguine alla vongole while studying there, so inferior stateside versions tend to disappoint her. Not so at Andiamo. Her plate was heaped with in-shell littlenecks, especially fat and juicy because they were grilled, which sealed their briny moisture within an outwardly dry surface. The pasta was al dente, and the olive oil and wine white sauce had such a velvety flavor from the clams that we thought we detected butter and even a hint of lemon, which — Pietro told us — was not, in fact, there. It was priced $17.99. A similarly rich pasta pescatore ($21.99) next to me contained scallops and rings of squid.
I chose to have penne Florentine prepared aglio e olio ($14.99), rather than with a pink cream sauce ($15.99). Again the sauce was rich, this time from that hearty prosciutto, which was julienned along with sun-dried tomatoes. Cooked down whole baby spinach leaves, instead of shredded larger ones, completed the recipe. Of course, the penne was cooked to, but not past, perfection.
