Italian American Food is Stupid: Favorite Restaurant #4 La Zingara

There are many things I find despicable, Italian American restaurants being just one. The chopped parsley plate garnish, so nonchalantly thrown by whatever non-Italian chef, provokes a sense of confusion in one like myself. Is it supposed to be of aesthetic value, one maybe never know. For those missing decorative plating designs of the 1970s, don’t fret, order a salad of any strain at your town Italian American restaurant, more than likely named, “Anthony's Trattoria, Bella’s, or Olive Garden.” Cucumbers in circular plate configurations, black olives brined in sodium hydroxide, cubed factory-made mozzarella; you’d have to be a pompous elitist to resist allure of such salad accoutrements.

I’m a pompous elitist, condemning those with a value system conducive to restaurant made Italian American food. Eating it at home, made by a balding Nonna, I’m okay with. Acts of egregious behavior by the unfeeling swines and intolerable inbreds remain the only excuse for human consumption. I’m being truthful. I do however value reasonably delicious Italian food, which might, seldomly, cross the lines of untraditional.

La Zingara, in Bethel, is a substantial substitution from the monotony of all things red sauce. Poorly cut plate parsley is absent. Diced garlic in uneasy proportions is thankfully reduced. Salad flowers of pre-ripe deli tomatoes dressed with Newman bottled balsamic dressing is nonexistent, for good measures.

If memory recalls, upon entry, you’re exposed to an environment of hardwood. I like wood, especially wood processed as limited as one may treat wood when undergoing any gastronomic endeavor. Wood accentuates origin of the food served, gladdening an experience of nature versus culinary merit. That sentence was a little wordy. I guess I just like wood cause it looks cool when I’m eating. A simple decor offers little distractions forcing interaction upon those with you as well as what’s being served. I find simple decor commendable. Lack of ornamentation is a clear indicator of a confident chef.

The first time upon going to La Zingara was three years ago. The dish I ordered, braised duck pappardelle pasta with raw grapes and tarragon. Raw grapes in a pasta dish sounded exotic, especially for Bethel, so I ordered it. Composed in the way a proper pasta dish should be composed, such zeal was tasted. Duck, being red meat, was paired with a sauce of its own braising liquid, then tossed with butter. The tarragon, being such an exuberantly powerful herb, was added with restraint, still yet noticeable on the palate. Complimentary focaccia bread to soak up the remaining sauce at the bottom of my bowl connected the whole experience.

Vodka sauce unavailability will not neglect your appetite. Veal pounded to a pulp, tomato sauce with sugar, shrimp with cheese; we live in a scary world, to begin with. These introductions, claiming the origin of Italy, further inflame such a formidable world. At all cost, we must embrace a cuisine pertaining to an actual native land unlike the mythical kingdom of wherever Italian American food is concocted. La Zingara, in Bethel, is a start and just a quality restaurant in general.