A Final Meal At The Baricell Inn

I write this blog post with bittersweet sentiments. As I was enjoying my visit with my out-of-town friend Mike last weekend, he read aloud from the Cleveland Plain Dealer that a well established Little Italy restaurant, the Baricelli Inn, would be closing its doors on Saturday, July 10th after twenty-five years in operation. Chef and owner Paul Minnillo was quoted in the CPD article as saying that, "After 25 years in business, I think it's just time to close" and "It's just very difficult to succeed in that category today. People just don't eat that way -- lots of courses, and hours at the table -- anymore."

And while I would've agreed with his sentiment perhaps ten years ago, based on my previous visit to the Baricelli last summer, I actually felt like they had evolved into a more modern restaurant. The menu prices were reasonable for the level of food being prepared and served to diners. Of course, if one went nuts on the wine list, the final bill could be expensive, but with most entrées priced in the mid $20's, while it wasn't an every day kind of place, it was certainly in line with other more recent Cleveland upscale eateries like Lola Bistro, Crop Bistro, Parallax, and Moxie. That being said, the last time I had dinner there, the restaurant was eerily empty for a Friday night and I suspect that Chef Minnillo wanted to not only reinvent the menu, but at someplace new that wouldn't weigh him down with tradition that the Baricelli had established for itself.

Word of the closing spread quickly amongst the foodie community and within hours, a group of us decided that we would plan on enjoying one final meal before the doors closed on the 10th. I wouldn't normally write about a restaurant that is no longer open, but in this particular case, I decided to document my last meal at the Baricelli Inn as an homage to the memories I've had there over the past twenty years. Tonight, July 8th, was the date of our gathering and as we arrived, I think more than one of us was filled with happiness, sadness, and nervousness over what was about to transpire.

Before I share tonight's meal with you, gentle reader, I wanted to regale you with one of my favorite Baricelli Inn stories. My first real job out of college was with the big consulting firm Ernst & Young. Based out of the Cleveland office, those were the heady pre-dotcom boom days where staff consultants were billed out at $125+ per hour. Budgets were fairly large back then and most expense reports were approved with little questioning. Of course, if you traveled for business, you could expense dinner. A little known fact, however, was that if you worked ten or more hours in a given day at your home office, you could also expense dinner. Having been itching to try the Baricelli Inn since I had learned of its existence when starting at Case Western, at the end of a particularly long ten hour Monday, an idea popped into my head. I was already dressed in a suit for work. I could expense a meal and no receipt was required for meals under $75. I could probably get a last minute reservation considering Monday was probably not a busy night for the restaurant.

I called and scored a reservation for 7 PM. My next thought was that I didn't want to experience this by myself. So, I called up my friend Chris (the one who now lives in Scranton, PA that I've written about before) and had the following conversation:

"Have you eaten yet?"
"No. Why?"
"I have some good news and some bad news."
"Okay. What's the good news?"
"We have reservations at the Baricelli Inn in an hour."
"Sweet! What's the bad news?"
"You're going to have to put on a tie and jacket."

Chris, like me, had never had the opportunity to eat at the restaurant either and quickly agreed to my terms. We walked to the restaurant and were promptly seated and shown our menus. I had never ordered with abandon before, not really caring about how much everything would add up to in the end. We went through appetizers, salads, entrées, desserts, two bottles of wine, and of course, cigars and port. Needless to say, we appeared to be celebrating like rock stars. At one point during the meal, I had said the line, "I can't believe its been over a year now," just as the waiter arrived with our appetizers. Now, I was actually referring to something completely different, but I saw him pause for only the briefest of moments as he registered the notion that Chris and I were here to celebrate our anniversary. He further commented when Chris and I ordered cigars and glasses of port at the end of our meal, "Boy, you guys sure know how to celebrate!" Again, there was that slight twinkle in his eye. Chris, whose gaydar was about as finely tuned as a used Yugo, completely missed the references.

When I finally got the check, I was just a little shocked that with tip and tax, the bill came to $366. I will concede that wine, cigars, and port made up more than half of the bill. In the end, it took me an additional four days of working 10+ hours per day to expense the entire dinner ($75 per day, remember?). I actually held on to that receipt for years, a reminder of my introductory meal at a restaurant of that caliber.

As we walked out into the cool night air still smoking our stogies, I decided to revisit the waiter's earlier comments:

"So, um, you DO realize that the waiter thought we were a couple, right?"
"WHAT?!"
"Yeah, remember the comment I made about me not believing it's already been a year? The waiter overheard me saying that as he delivered the appetizers. And his comment at the end of the meal about us going all out to celebrate? Oh, yeah, he totally had us pegged as a couple in a committed relationship."
"But that's not what we were even talking about! Wait. We're not a couple, are we?"

I thought about torturing him for a little bit considering he had just gotten a free (and very expensive) meal, but decided to let him off the hook with a simple, "Um, no."

Ah, good times, good times. So now let's talk about some of the good times I had with dinner tonight.

After being shown to the table and having our server introduce himself to us, we were left to peruse the freshly printed menus for today's dinner service:



I was hoping to score an order of the gnudi (the dish which sent my previous dining companions into uncontrolled fits of laughter), but sadly, the dish was nowhere to be found on the menu and our server confirmed that there were no additional daily specials to consider. While we sat and pondered what to order for this last glorious meal, our drink orders arrived at the table.

Here was my glass of iced tea:


Given how hot it has been over the last week, this was an exceptionally welcome sight and I took a few sips from the frigid liquid to quench my thirst. Along with our round of drinks came the bread service. First up was a dish of extra virgin olive oil:


And a single piece of bread for each diner:


The bread was quite good. It was filled with feta cheese chunks and spicy red pepper flakes. While tasty on its own, it was even better when dipped into the olive oil. The only bad part about tonight's bread service was that no additional bread was offered to guests after the first piece had been eaten. I suppose we could've asked for additional bread, but the gentleman walking around with the bread basket seemed to be few and far between.

Because the Baricelli offers half-sized portions of pasta and given that I had only eaten a small bowl of chicken noodle soup at lunch today, I decided to order an appetizer, a small pasta, and an entrée. It sounds like a lot of food, and normally I wouldn't order that much, but I was quite hungry and considering that this was the last time I would be able to order from their menu, I decided to push the envelop a bit.

While there were several good looking items from the appetizer portion of the menu, when I saw that they were offering bufala mozzarella, I knew I wouldn't be able to resist. Here was a shot of my appetizer when it arrived at the table:


Almost identical to a insalata caprese, the big difference here was that the tomatoes had been replaced with roasted strips of red bell pepper. Dressed with a chiffonade of fresh basil and some extra virgin olive oil, this was heaven on a plate. The difference between this mozzarella and fresh mozzarella you can get in most supermarkets today was that this version was made from Water Buffalo milk and not cow's milk. The texture and taste of the bufala mozzarella was extremely soft and creamy and it almost melted in my mouth. It very much reminded me of the burrata I had enjoyed the week prior at Chinato, but it wasn't quite as creamy. Regardless, I enjoyed every bite, from first to last.

For my petite pasta course I decided to go with the mushroom risotto with shaved fennel salad:


As soon as my server set this down in front of me, the heady aroma of white truffle oil wafted up from the plate and tickled my nose. While the rice was cooked perfectly, there was a surprising lack of creaminess that one normally associates with a risotto. If this risotto had been finished with butter or freshly grated Parmesan cheese, it was a minimal amount. That being said, the flavor was unctuous and earthy, representative of the fact that there were several varieties of wild mushrooms on this plate. The dressed fennel and shallot salad on top offered a nice bit of acid to help cut through the richness of the mushrooms. This was yet another solid dish from the kitchen.

Looking over the list of entrées, I let my heart really speak to what it craved: steak. Here was a shot of the Flat Iron Steak with Mushroom Frittata:


Dressing the plate was a porcini aioli and accompany my entrée tonight was some sautéed spinach and crispy onion straws. Here was a close-up of the steak:


Cooked to the perfect medium-rare that I requested it, the steak was warm and juicy and cut easily with the provided serrated knife. I dipped each bite into a little bit of the porcini aioli and was rewarded with a deeper, richer umami flavor. I've often prepared flank steak before by doing a dry rub that contained ground up dried porcini mushrooms and this flavor was reminiscent of that preparation.

Not to be outdone, at the center of the dish was an unmolded timbale of mushroom frittata:


I knew that this has been properly cooked as the eggs were tender without being too wobbly. While it reinforced the mushroom flavor in the aioli, it was also different enough in flavor that it provided my taste buds a break from the richness of the beef. The sautéed spinach the frittata rested on had a bright, clean spinach flavor and while I grew up as a child who hated this somewhat bitter vegetable, I thoroughly enjoyed tonight's version.

One of my dinner companions who also happened to order the Flat Iron Steak wanted something a little different as a side and when the server told him about the Parmesan French Fries, he quickly agreed:


He was generous enough to share his side and I have to say that these were quite tasty. While these weren't the crispy potato sticks that I normally desire, the flavor from the Parmesan and herbs sprinkled on top more than made up for their lack of crispness.

After such a heavy meal, I wasn't sure I wanted to do dessert, too. But, knowing that this would be my last chance to ever do so again, I opted to push past the slight discomfort. While the dessert menu contained cheeses, ports, dessert wines, and other such accoutrements, I decided to just take a picture of the dessert portion of the menu:


Yes, the choices were pretty limited, but given that they were closing in just two days, I wasn't surprised to see only four desserts listed. The sorbet duo for the event, pineapple and raspberry, weren't really calling my name, so that dessert choice was out. I was feeling in a chocolate mood, so I opted for the warm espresso fudge brownie with homemade vanilla ice cream. Here was what I received shortly after ordering:


First the good. The ice cream and fudge sauce were outstanding. I would've gladly eaten a hot fudge sundae composed of just those two items. The espresso fudge brownie was also nicely moist and warm. However, I didn't particularly taste any of the espresso flavor in the brownie and it had an off-putting grainy texture, almost as if the sugar hadn't fully dissolved in the batter before being baked. Additionally, it was cloyingly sweet. I realize that dessert is supposed to be sweet, but as with all courses, it should also have balance. All that said, it wasn't a bad dessert; it just wasn't up to the level of the rest of the meal.

Our epicurean journey now complete, we paid our respective checks, collected our personal effects, and strolled out into the still nearly 90 degree Fahrenheit evening air. While I am sad to see this Cleveland eatery fade into memory, I am happy to have had the opportunity to have just one more fabulous meal before they shuttered the windows and locked the doors. For those who are fans of Paul Minnillo's cooking, he is planning on partnering with Christopher Di Lisi in order to open up a more affordable restaurant in Moreland Hills called Flour. I'll be the first to admit that I'm curious what kind of menu he will be presenting to replace the high-end cuisine he served for twenty-five years at The Baricelli. From what I've heard, it should be opening up in the fall of 2010.

While I will certainly miss the food and service at the Baricelli, I will always have my wonderful memories of dinners past to entertain and delight me for years to come.

Beavis and Butthead at The Baricelli Inn

For our second and final dinner of my weekend trip to Cleveland with several of my old college friends, I suggested we try out The Baricelli Inn on the corners of Cornell and Murray Hill Roads. All three of us had eaten here in the past; however, many changes had taken place to the menu and the feel of the restaurant and none of us had been back since. An additional benefit was that it was only a twenty minute walk from the Glidden House, where we were staying.

To be totally fair, the choice of The Baricelli Inn was made at the very last minute. I had made plans for a different restaurant, but none of us were really feeling like making the trek downtown. So, at 5:23 PM on a Friday evening I cold-called and was told that they had tables available at 6:00 PM and at 7:30 PM. My two dining companions quickly agreed that 6:00 PM would be just fine. Since we were already dressed for dinner, we promptly left the hotel room at 5:30 PM and strolled up around ten minutes until six. Here is a shot of the front of the property:


The entrance and parking lot are actually in the back of the building on Murray Hill Road. Here is a shot of the actual entrance:


Once inside, we were escorted to the lovely area at the back of the building that is completely enclosed in glass. While I didn't request this area, I was happy to have it as it would provide me with plenty of light to take pictures with my phone's built-in camera (which, incidentally, if you didn't already know, gentle reader, 95% of the photographs that appear on this site are taken with my Google G1 phone). One new addition that has been made to the property since the last time any of us were here was the addition of a patio. Tonight would have been an excellent night to dine out temperature-wise, but the ominous look in the clouds made me glad we were inside.

Our server handed us the menu:


It was at that particular moment that my dinner companions, both of whom are well-respected and well-educated men of science, regressed into Beavis and Butthead. Our server was describing several highlights of the dinner menu and proceeded to talk about some of the wonderful homemade pastas, including the gnudi. Pronounced "new-dee" (emphasis on the first syllable), this sent my friends into fits of uncontrollable laughter so much so that one of them started to tear up and the waiter actually stopped his description of the menu because he thought something might be wrong. After I realized what they were actually laughing at, I turned to our server and quickly apologized because apparently in 1.3 seconds they had regressed to the age of fourteen. While initially annoyed, we did joke about it for the rest of the dinner and well into the next day. The two then did compose themselves for the remainder of the meal, although there was a bit of tittering when our waiter told us that one of the sorbet flavors for the day was kumquat. Thank goodness they weren't serving gnudi with a kumquat sauce; I might have never gotten them to stop laughing.

After telling us of the daily special and the aforementioned "pasta", the service staff proceeded to start the bread service:


This was an excellent bread and olive oil paring. The olive oil they used was extremely fruity and was delicious even on it's own. The bread was fresh and toasted, but it was a tad too crunchy. I wasn't the only one at my table to notice this as well. We all agreed that we like bread that has some texture and tooth to it, but we had to spend quite a bit more effort to chew through this bread than we should.

Also on the table was a nifty idea, reusing a classic butter dish as a salt cellar:


My dinner companions and I discussed what we were going to order for dinner and they asked if I would pick out a suitable wine. I figured I would attempt to find a nice light red wine, something without a lot of bold tannins and body, and something that would pair well with either meat or fish. After looking at the extensive wine list, I settled upon a $55 bottle of Jauffers Syrah from Santa Barbara:


At 15.5% alcohol content, this wine definitely needed about ten minutes or so to breath, but the high alcohol content also served to help cut through the fattiness of the courses we were about to be served. Once the wine had been given a chance to breath properly, it because much less harsh and the fruit moved forward onto the palate. It was just as I'd hoped, a quick finishing wine that didn't overwhelm the palate.

We decided to split an appetizer and a cheese board for our starters. First up, a photograph of a board of five cheeses along with crackers, fruits, and nuts:


Starting at the 2 o'clock position is a French goat's milk cheese called Jacquin St. Maure Ash. It is a fresh goat's milk cheese that has been coated with a vegetable ash. At the 6 o'clock position was a local selection, the Blomma cheese from Lake Erie Creamery located on Fulton Road right here in Cleveland. This was another lovely goat's milk cheese, although this one was aged and had a very similar taste and texture to the more well known Boucheron cheese from France. At the 9 o'clock position was a French cow's milk cheese called Pont l'Eveque. Although we weren't sure at the time, there was something wrong with this cheese. It had no off smell, but after chewing it for about fifteen seconds, an obnoxious ammonia flavor began to fill your nasal cavities. We tried pairing this cheese with the crackers, the fruit, and the nuts and none of them would alleviate this very powerful odor. It wasn't until I returned home and found the link to Pont l'Eveque on the web that I confirmed that what we tasted probably wasn't what an unspoiled version would actually taste like.

At the 10 o'clock position was a cow's milk cheese from Normandy, France. This was a double creme camembert called Le Chatelaine. This was a nice cheese, kind of nutty and earthy. Honestly, having eaten this cheese right after the Pont l'Eveque, I still had a bit of ammonia odor in my nose and I think that definitely colored the taste I had of Le Chatelaine. The final cheese on our plate, at the noon position, was a triple creme French style cheese called Mount Tam. This cheese is produced by the Cow Girl Creamery in Modesto, CA and had a wonderful soft, creamy interior and a nice pungent nose to it. This paired nicely with the apricots and grapes that accompanied the cheese plate.

The other starter we ordered was the crispy calamari:


This dish was served with roasted garlic, capers, pine nuts, and two different kinds of aoili. It was also topped with a bit of basil that had been cut into a chiffonade. This dish was incredibly good. The calamari were perfectly coated and fried and were amazingly tender. All of the flavors and textures worked so well together to really create a harmonious dish. The seasoning was spot on and the two sauces that were on the plate worked to elevate the dish instead of dominating it.

After our starters were finished, our entrees came out next. I ordered the spiced-rubbed flat iron steak with spinach, goat cheese, and olives:


This dish also came dressed with a cucumber vinaigrette, which was nice because the sweetness from the vinaigrette balanced the salty components in the rest of the dish. I ordered this medium rare and it came out perfectly. The meat was completely tender and seasoned perfectly. The spice rub on the outside of the meat had just a little bit of heat, but not too much. The combination of the olives, goat cheese and meat was just like a little bite of heaven on my fork. The spinach didn't really add anything flavor-wise to this dish, but it was prepared well and served as a good excuse to get my daily dose of dark leafy greens.

Both my dining companions decided to order the daily special, a completely sustainable Hawaiin fish that I can no longer remember (it was similar to a whitefish, however) served over a sweet corn and pea succotash with both a onion jam and unsweetened strawberry coulis. When the entrees arrived, we all tasted the various sauces separately and initially thought that there was no way that the flavors would work together. The onion jam alone had a very powerful smoke element to it. However, once you got a bit of the fish, a swipe of the jam, and just a bit of the coulis on your fork, the flavors worked together in your mouth almost magically. Clearly the chef knows what he (or she, we didn't actually get to talk to the chef running the pass tonight) is doing because both the fish dish and my flat iron steak dish really soared with well-balanced flavors.

After finishing our entrees, the table was cleared and the dessert menus were brought out. Here is a shot of some of the cheeses you could order for dessert (some of which we already had for our starter):


And a shot of the actual desserts being offered tonight:


Several varieties of homemade sorbet and ice cream were being offered, but only one truly intrigued me, the Feta ice cream. Seeing as this ice cream was used to top off the peach cobbler, I though it was a perfect opportunity for me to get to try both the ice cream and some pastry. We placed our dessert orders and after about ten more minutes, I received this:


First off, this was quite hot. As in, they cooked the dessert in the actual serving dish. As such, I had to snap my photo quickly as the Feta ice cream was melting at an alarmingly fast rate. Fortunately, I got it in just one shot. While the menu advertised that this was a peach cobbler, there were also apricots and raisins in there as well. This meant that depending on what fruit I picked up on my fork, it could be sweet, sour, or when paired with a little bit of the pastry, savory. The pastry itself was also tender and felt more like rolled out biscuit dough than a drop biscuit used to top a regular cobbler. The ice cream definitely lent an interesting twist to the dish. The Feta flavor was there, but almost unrecognizable behind the sweetness from the sugar and the vanilla. If I hadn't been told that this was a Feta ice cream, I probably would've noticed that it wasn't straight up vanilla, but wouldn't have been able to identify the flavor as being Feta cheese.

Once finished with our final course, the server cleared the dishes, brought us our check and we settled the bill. On our way back up to the entrance, we stopped by to check out the cheese cooler located right inside the entrance:


As you can see, they've got quite the selection of cheeses with which to play. Even though the Pont l'Eveque we tried wasn't really to our liking, I definitely wouldn't hesitate to order another cheese course the next time I go back. Our stomachs full and appetites sated, we strolled out into the cool Friday night air and started our walk back to the hotel. On the way, one of my friends spotted what would've made an interesting lunch the next day:


Fortunately for this little fellow, we were all too full to chase after him and he did look rather cute munching on the clover.

The food and service at The Baricelli Inn was spot on. With the exception of the one unfortunate cheese on our cheese plate, the flavors were amazingly complex and all worked well with each other. As with many of the fine restaurants I've eaten at, you can tailor your experience to whatever price point suits your budget. The dinner menu contains many pasta dishes for $10-$14 for a half order. If you paired that with an appetizer or salad and went with a soft drink or water, you could easily eat there for around $20 per person. Our check was a bit higher, if for no other reason than we ordered a nice bottle of wine (although not extravagant).

I encourage you to check out The Baricelli Inn in Cleveland, Ohio the next time you are looking for a wonderful dining experience where the chef is truly focused on using local, fresh, and sustainable products and produce. When I first went to The Baricelli Inn thirteen years ago, it felt very stuffy and inaccessible. With their revamped menu and focus on a less formal dining experience, it can now be equally enjoyed by one and all.

  

Grandpa

One year ago today, my grandpa died. And while I thought I was over his passing, I'm guessing that I'm not.

My grandpa was my first real epicurean inspiration. He grew up at a time in our country's food history where there were no convenience products. Sure, people were self-canning their own produce, but there was no access to the vast quantity of processed foods we are buried under at today's supermarket. He used to talk fondly of the sheer quality and quantity of food that his mother used to make on a regular basis. Apparently to make ends meet, his mother took on borders and would cook meals family-style. Unfortunately, I only knew my great-grandmother as a very young child before I had a chance to develop any sense of a food palate, so I was never able to experience the awesome amount of cooking knowledge she must have possessed.

The memories I hold most dear regarding my grandpa always seemed to center around food. I remember being grateful in high school and college when he treated me to a good restaurant meal. Having no money at the time, I always vowed that someday I would return the favor. Finally, after graduating and landing that first job, I was thrilled for the first time to be able to treat him to a good meal.

My grandpa was a bit of a card and loved to interact with other people. This sometimes led to some embarrassment of myself, but in general, he was just a guy who loved to socialize. One particularly poignant moment is the first time I took him to the Baricelli Inn located in Cleveland. At the time, the Baricelli Inn was what one would consider "uppity", "snooty" if you will. We had ordered our meal, an appetizer, salad, and entree and a wonderful bottle of wine. About half-way through our first glass of wine, the waiter brought out the appetizers. I don't remember what we ordered, but it was decadent and delicious (as was the entire meal, actually).

Shortly thereafter, our persnickety waiter returned to check on the progress of our appetizer course. It was at this moment my grandpa gleefully exclaimed that it was "'Raat good!" and then proceeded to explain that he was from West Virgina and that was how they say it down there. Another time he responded that his meal was "Deee-wicious!", just like the little boy from the French's mustard commercial had done on the television. I would've been mortified had it not been so funny to see our waiter's reaction. I realized at that moment that my grandpa's outlook on life was the same whether he was sitting in a four star restaurant or the diner at the end of the block. From then on, his comments never bothered me anymore. (As a side note, the Baricelli Inn has since completely revamped it's menu and style and become much more accessible to a wider variety of customers.)

During the late 1990's in the midst of the Internet boon, I was fortunate enough to discover an upscale Mediterranean restaurant named Grappa's. Led by Chef Scot Jones (currently Executive Chef for The Vegiterranean in Akron), we would dine there about twice a month, the check always being picked up by me (those were some good years, consulting-wise). One of the servers there became our most requested server because of how well she took care of my grandfather and doted on him. After a number of months of visits, I finally had the chance to speak to her while my grandpa was in the restroom. I thanked her for the tremendous job she had always done taking care of us, especially taking the extra time I know she didn't have to talk with my grandpa. She simply looked at me and said, "You know, I have a grandpa, too. And that's how I'd want him to be treated if our roles were reversed." I shed a tear even now thinking about her kindness.

And although I didn't start my food blog until after his death, I would like to think that what I've done up to this point would make him happy. I share in his love of eating good food and engaging in good conversation. I've even discovered his love of Manhattans through my good friends at the Velvet Tango Room where they make a delicious Tango Manhattan. I wish I had discovered VTR a little earlier in my life when he was still around. As a cocktail drinker all his life, I think he would've appreciated the artistry and commitment that the entire staff has for an excellent cocktail.

So, while I can't bring you back, grandpa, I can raise my Tango Manhattan to your memory and spirit tomorrow night when I meet up with friends to help celebrate life, happiness, and a love for good food.