c/o Cantina Cafe
Hidden underneath the Italian Society of Middletown’s principal building, an inconspicuous entryway denoted by a small “Open” sign lies hidden in the night. An unknowing passerby might mistake it as an entrance to just another dilapidated convenience store, or even a certain fraternal organization’s operational headquarters. However, even with its awkward separation from the rest of the Main Street dining establishments, Cantina Café Ristorante rewards the curiosity of the intrepid.
Upon entering, you follow a staircase down a tunnel of Italian-American memorabilia, Peroni and Coors Light neon signs, and framed newspaper clippings of the restaurant’s numerous accolades from decades past, telling you all you need to know about the status of this establishment. Walking into the cozy main dining area, with its warm lights, lush greenery on the walls, and those iconic checkerboard tablecloths, makes you believe just for a second that you’re in the pleasant homeliness of an old nonna’s kitchen.
As for the meal itself, my party of six ordered only three dishes. You read that right. These portion sizes are probably enough to feed a small Tuscan village, but in the case of Cantina, high quantity and high quality are surprisingly correlated.
Before our entrées even arrived, the server placed a basket of complimentary bread on the table, the steam rising from it in a subtle tease. Soft crumbs stuck to the roof of my mouth as I tried to exhale the steam away. Unfortunately, I burned my mouth regardless, as the garlic-infused olive oil led me to tempt fate. I managed to escape with only minimal damage to my taste receptors, which still had a long night of stimulation ahead of them.
The shrimp scampi was next to arrive. Waves of angel hair pasta were carelessly enveloped in a heap of blushing prawns, conjuring up the image of a golden Adriatic Sea. Acidic notes first hit my palate, but a counterbalance of buttery weight promptly quelled any dregs of sour discomfort, both physical and emotional. Each crispy shrimp had a tail that even the slightest pressure from my molars could pulverize, and each angel hair was a perfect al dente. Maybe Ceres herself harvested the grains from which they were made. My heart wanted to remain sailing on this maiden voyage forever, but my mind knew that landfall was inevitable.
The incoming chicken caprese signaled the end of my maritime adventure, but the soft breading on its surface prompted a new journey through the rolling hills of the Val d’Orcia. Underneath the peaks and valleys of the uneven surface was a plush and savory treasure. Tomato sauce, melted mozzarella, and unmelted mozzarella, Madonna! Such an amalgamation of toppings almost brought me to tears. It was only with the addition of the side penne vodka that I slowly began to be dragged back to the real world. Not that it tasted bad. Nothing tasted bad from this place. I was eating the courses of gods but was served the penne vodka of a king (the sauce was a tad watery). That and that alone is the extent of my criticism against this fine establishment.
It is not often that a restaurant moves me to write for such a distinguished publication as The Argus, but when I do, you can imagine it’s quite the meal and quite the deal. The total damage done to my wallet was about $127.20. Divide by 6 and that’s about 21 smackeroos a person, including tax and tip. In this economy, it is an offer you can’t refuse. I don’t know when I’ll go back to Cantina Café Ristorante. Maybe it’ll be in a week, maybe in a year. I am honestly unsure when I will be emotionally ready to travel back into that magnificent world. But I do promise that one day, sooner or later, I will return to the heavenly realm where I was sequestered upon that very first bite.
Santiago Galvan can be reached at sgalvan@wesleyan.edu.