Buca di Beppo

The Moon Hit Our Eye, Even Without Pizza Pie

I know that not all of you got to see my one-woman show, Entertaining Guests, when I did it in workshop here in Chicago in March. If you didn't, all is not lost, because it will be back in a bigger and better version.

I didn't know how I would feel after the first performance, but I can sum it up in two words: (1) exhilarated and (2) famished. Or maybe it was the other way around.

So six of us hopped in a couple cabs and went a few miles to the north and east and had a late-Friday-night dinner at Buca di Beppo. It was my choice, and I don't think anyone could have come up with a better place for flat-out celebrating. Maybe that's why I ate there after the second and third performances, too.

One of the characters in my show, one of the guests in the great party of my life, is Mrs. Romano, grandmother of my childhood Debby Romano. Mrs. Romano knew the basic truths of Italian life in South Philly. If the old man of the house doesn't bring in enough money to fill the table with food, he's a failure. And if the old lady doesn't fix the food well enough so that it's eaten down to the last crumb, she's a failure.

A few months ago, I reviewed La Donna, where they serve elegant and sophisticated modern Italian food. That's not the way the game's played at Buca di Beppo. Buca is an Italian place in the style of fifties Italian-American culture, and I love it. It's just self-conscious enough to be fun, and the food's good enough so that you can have a fine time without even paying attention to the pictures of Frankie and Dino and Sophia and Gina that pack the walls, or even if you don't care about Frankie and Dino singing over the speakers.

But promise me you'll go with a crowd. This is a restaurant that demands big tables. For one thing, the food comes in only one portion size: huge. You order garlic bread, you get a round of it the size of a Lamborghini tire. You order manicotti, you get seven manicotti.

There's no menu. Or, to be precise, there's no printed menu. You want to know what they have, you better hope you can see what's posted on the wall of each of the small rooms. Or you can ask your waiter; they're all friendly. Ever had a waiter sit on the edge of your table for a chat? We did.

After everyone in your group peers across the room and hears about the specials of the day, it's time for the negotiations. Who's hungry for what? Who won't eat anchovies? Who wants the gorgonzola on top of the salad, and who wants it on the side? Most of the food is along the lines of pasta in red sauce ("noodles and gravy they call it in South Philly) with just enough inventive touches to let you know that this is a real restaurant and not a theme park.

Then the food starts coming and you better be ready for some serious eating. For a table of six, we got four plates of food, and two hours later we had some leftovers to carry away.

Desserts? I couldn't tell you. You know I don’t care for them anyway, but when the waiter asked everyone else at the table, the general response was, "Oh my God, are you kidding?"

Buca di Beppo will always be special for me because I went there at the end of one of the great evenings of my life. But if you have a special occasion to celebrate and good friends to celebrate it with, head on over and get ready for a good time.