The first thing that should be noted is that there is no fettuccine Alfredo on the menu. That’s noteworthy because the restaurant that occupied this space for so many years was Alfredo d’Originale di Roma, an offshoot of the restaurant that invented the dish. Maybe the Patina Group, which now operates the restaurant, wanted to keep their menu more authentic and didn’t want to add Alfredo, which is largely an Americanized dish.
But that didn’t stop them from delivering the bread basket with a dish of olive oil, which is largely an American practice.
I started my lunch with a bowl of pasta e fagioli, the beany soup with bits of pasta blended in. It was fairly bland, but I fixed that by spooning in some of the olive oil meant for the bread.
For my entrée I had the dish with the unfortunate name stinco di maiale, which is more aromatic than it sounds. It was a massive pork shank braised into tender submission. It was quite good, and the portion was ample. In fact there was too much to finish in one seating, and at $24 I hated to waste it. (Wouldn’t it be nice if you could have doggie bags waiting for you at the front gate like purchases from gift shops so you don’t have to lug them around?)
I had also shelled out $8 for the lunch contorno, which was a braised fennel. Actually, it had to be a joke the kitchen was playing. No serious chef would have sent out a hunk of raw fennel with some melted cheese on top.
Service, which, like most of the pavilion restaurants, is proffered by natives of the sponsoring country, was affable but not very attentive. The most authentic part of the dining experience!
The atmosphere of Tutto Italia is boisterous. The main dining room is a huge space that wants to look elegant but just can’t, not when it’s filled with ill-clothed tourists – not a fault of the restaurant.