Restaurant review Cafe Michelangelo
By Rick Nelson, Star Tribune
Last update: February 2, 2000 - 10:00 PM
Unpretentious, slightly schlocky Italian restaurants are a dime a dozen in New York City, Philadelphia, Chicago, San Francisco and other cities with large Italian populations, and residents tend to take such homey staples for granted. But here in the heavily German-Scandinavian Twin Cities, such small, family-run gems are, unfortunately, few and far between.
At least there's Cafe Michelangelo. Elegant? No. Good, honest cooking? Yes. The six-month-old restaurant, located in downtown Hopkins, is the work of chef/ owner Luigi Ganino, an Italian who has cooked at a number of local Italian restaurants, including Vescio's and Cafe da Vinci.
Given free reign at his own place, he's showing a talent for straightforward cooking with fresh ingredients. His menu's biggest stars are the appetizers. The beef carpaccio was the best I've had in recent memory, a large plate of tender meat sliced parchment thin and seasoned with fresh herbs, lemon and pepper. The bruschetta was a classic: grilled sourdough rubbed with olive oil and tons of garlic and topped with basil and tomatoes so flavorful you don't believe you're in Minnesota in the dead of winter.
The caprese, a platter of marvelous house-made mozzarella, basil and amazing tomatoes, was light and delicious. Even the deep-fried calamari, usually a no-man's land of disappointment and regret, were light and springy. And I loved the Michelangelo platter, an enormous plate of snacks that change depending upon Ganino's whim. For just nine bucks we grazed like kings, enjoying a pair of excellent artisan cheeses, proscuitto, hearty salami and wonderful marinated olives.
Ganino also does good things with pasta. One night, in the mood for something basic, I went with an angel-hair tossed with marinara and Parmesan. It was a marriage made in heaven – the spicy marinara clinging to the al dente pasta. And it was a bargain, too – just $8, and served with greens tossed in a snappy vinaigrette.
Other smart pasta picks include fettuccine tossed with Parmesan, mushrooms, peas and ham and another fettucine blended with juicy chicken breast, mushrooms and a savory Parmesan sauce. Spaghetti is served with mussels, calamari, scallops and shrimp with a touch of olive oil; it's fabulous. And rigatoni is served with pancetta, Parmigiano, tons of garlic and a creamy butter sauce. The beef lasagna, although livened up with terrific seasonings, was an oily, mushy mess.
The menu includes a half-dozen ambitious entrees and a daily special. An enormous slab of fresh salmon, juicy and flavorful, is baked (and served, oddly, in an ungainly aluminum foil swan) with artichokes, capers and herbs, and it's wonderful. Veal is sliced thin and cooked in a savory marsala sauce loaded with mushroom flavor. A seafood soup, loaded with clams, mussels, shrimp and salmon and big enough for two, pops with hot peppers and garlic. Tender beef tenderloin is glammed up with Gorgonzola and rosemary.
The small wine list features 14 mostly Italian choices that emphasize value. Prices hover around $22 per bottle, and the six that are offered by the glass all go for $4. The bread basket is another pleasant surprise: a hearty house-baked loaf with a robust crust, served with a tasty kalamata tapenade. The dessert tray usually includes three or four house-baked treats, from simple tarts to the ubiquitous tiramisu to nicely prepared layer cakes.
The setting is no D'Amico Cucina. Something's not right when you're digging into a $22 entree on a laminate tabletop in a cramped booth. The lighting is a little harsh. The CD player seems to have just one selection, a corny “Opera for Dummies”-esque disc. I wish they'd scrape the cheesy murals off the windows so that we could get a peek at charming downtown Hopkins. “And would it kill them to turn up the heat a little?” asked my friend as he put his coat over his shoulders. I had mine draped over my lap, and I was warming my hands over the votive on our table.
We were placing bets on which former fast-food chain originally inhabited the place: Long John Silver's? Zantigo? Rax? Yeah, right. Anyone with half a brain can tell that it was once a Dunkin' Donuts, and no assortment of fake flowers, trailing plastic vines and assorted Tuscan tschochke can mask it.
Still, there's something kind of endearing about the place. There's a large covered patio that looks like it could be Hopkins' cafe-society central during the warm-weather months. Best of all, if you're seated in nonsmoking, you can watch Ganino as he does his solo act in his kitchen, often watching his tiny television while he cooks. Sappy as it sounds, it's a reminder that someone real is making your meal. And I, for one, appreciate that.
