The Day
Published on 5/11/2006
Tiberio's: Italian Food Done Deliciously Right
By Charles Clark
The nondescript malls sully the historic Boston Post Road in Old Saybrook but yield a number of pleasant surprises, not the least of them being Tiberio's, a terrific Italian restaurant that celebrates its third anniversary this July. April and Antonio Barbi opened this friendly spot to celebrate the cuisine of his native Italy, and they and their staff have done more than most to bring a high level of cooking and impeccable service to this part of the shoreline.
In recognition of these traits, they were voted best Italian restaurant in Middlesex County in Connecticut Magazine's 2006 Reader's Choice poll.
Behind plate glass windows is an intimate space set off from the open kitchen by a small bar and enlivened by a pan-Mediterranean décor (bold blues and oranges). I arrived early before my guest, a Tiberio's regular, and after being seated was asked in rapid succession by two members of the wait staff if they could get me something from the bar. Loyalty begins here.
After my guest arrived and our glasses of Chianti and Montepulciano were served, we were given several slices of delicious, hot Italian bread with a trio of condiments, including an addictive aioli, sun-dried tomato pesto, and olive oil.
Great attention has been paid to authenticity, right down to the menu where nearly every dish is given an Italian name.
To start, for $19.90, two can share the Antipasto Tiberio, described as a “Chef's surprise appetizer.” We were even more compelled by the mushrooms and sausage sautéed with olive oil and lemon juice, and the Bruschetta al Casatiello, “plum tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, and basil on toasted home-made bread.” Here's something I will return for in late summer, when tomatoes and basil are at their peak.
We opted instead for Polenta alla Griglia, three rounds of grilled polenta topped with thin slices of prosciutto and molten goat cheese. The warm polenta and cheese were smartly paired with a generous portion of roasted red peppers, a few tart black olives and a smattering of greens. Here was enshrined the culinary spirit of Italy. Not to mention the colors of its flag.
Consciously overdoing the cheese, we paired the polenta with a spinach salad with two small bundles of goat cheese wrapped in pancetta and swiftly grilled. Beautifully caramelized onions and ripe grape tomatoes added a natural sweetness. The salad would be perfect served on a plate; Tiberio's delivers it in a crisply fried flour tortilla bowl (generous, but more suitable, I think, to taco salads). We fought over the tasty nubbins of roast garlic that appeared in the salad and elsewhere.
Despite their inevitable allure, we skimmed by the pastas (including lasagna Bolognese, gnocchi with gorgonzola sauce, and angel hair pasta with scallops, calamari, and rock shrimp in a marinara sauce) to focus on meat and fish. Tiberio's offers four preparations of chicken including blackened, fried, and sautéed. Veal appears in three guises, including Osso bucco and veal marsala.
Bless the Barbis for having several of the main courses available in smaller portions at a reduced price. Given the heft of the appetizers, it is a considerate gesture. Having already feasted, we were grateful we ordered a half-serving of “Uccelletti del Cacciatore.” Uccelletti are known in the food vernacular as “veal birds.” A somewhat under seasoned, rolled scallop of veal was filled with a savory mix of sun-dried tomatoes, pine nuts, gorgonzola, and Parma ham, then perched upon two delicious potato croquettes and finally joined by a sauce comprised of mushrooms, garlic, and grape tomatoes.
The complexity of the Uccelletti notwithstanding, fish courses seem more adventuresome. They included an herb-marinated grilled salmon served over broccoli rabe with a sour cream and goat cheese dressing, and sautéed scallops prepared with pancetta and asparagus (a perfect team) in a vodka sauce, served over risotto.
My guest had in the past fallen for Tiberio's “bacala” (salt-dried cod). It was not among the specials that night, so she asked the waitress, who checked with the kitchen, and indeed, it was available. The cod was gently cooked and served in a light tomato sauce over a choice of two pastas (she chose a nicely al-dente linguine). It had all the virtues of good salt cod: firm body, moist flesh, and a delicate flavor that stood up to the tomato sauce. And yet the texture of the pasta was redundant; surely this creative team can find a more suitable partner that throws the cod's virtues into relief.
We should have tackled the Tiramisu, the only dessert made on premises. However, my chocoholic guest zeroed in on two alternatives, eventually selecting the “Magic Cube.” Despite the alarming name, we didn't regret it. It looked like a jumbo petit-four. A crisp semisweet chocolate shell encased equal layers of white chocolate and dark chocolate mousse, a culinary nod to the International Style of architecture. Less was more. It worked.
By the time we left — after 8 — there was hardly an empty table. Tiberio's is evidently filling a niche in this part of Connecticut and has found a loyal clientele. There's no attempt to distract clients from the cuisine with showy décor or self-conscious service. Aside from a few minor cavils, we can see why it has earned its reputation, and devoutly hope it stays around many more years to come.
Old Saybrook
Great food awaits at Tiberio's in Old Saybrook
By Michael Costanza
Publication: The Day
Published 05/20/2010
Whoever cooked my gnocchi at Tiberio's Restaurant must be a Lutheran. For such delicious Italian food, I'd usually expect to find Catholics in the kitchen, but here's my reasoning.
If you ask the Pope, he'll tell you that Eucharist bread becomes, literally, the flesh of Jesus Christ. That's called transubstantiation. But Martin Luther, the man who launched the Reformation, would tell you the bread and the body exist together, as one, much as fire and metal are united in a red-hot piece of iron. That's consubstantiation (although Lutherans prefer a subtly different term).
My side order of gnocchi ($5.95) was a consubstantiality - which is definitely a compliment. The creamiest little tender homemade potato pillowcases formed a sacramental union with buffalo mozzarella and a delicate sauce of tomato and basil. As it all melted together in my mouth, it was impossible to tell - just as it is with fire and iron - where one ingredient ended and another began. I don't know if I'd call it a religious experience, but it sure tasted a hell of a lot better than communion wafers.
An entrée of Brasato di Manzo, meanwhile, made a believer out of me. Though the dish arrived with a steak knife, I never used it. My fork effortlessly broke apart the most incredibly tender braised brisket, served with an earthy, fragrant, candy-like red wine sauce thick enough to stick to your fingertip without dripping off. Each bite simply melted away, almost before I could taste it. An ice-cream scoop of parmesan risotto was sticky rather than creamy and topped with slivers of sautéed squash and carrot, which were much more than the typical garnish footnote. They added snap and a buttery exclamation point. Though pricey ($24), the portion was fair and the beef superb.
My father's bacalao special (around $18), on the other hand, disappointed us with its sauce. Succulent scrod and competently prepared linguine promised another success, but rustic olives overwhelmed the tomato sauce with an alcohol flavor.
Both dishes came with a small salad of baby spinach, tomato, and slivered onion and celery with an ultra-light dressing of oil and lemon juice. Colorful, cool, and refreshing, the salads made for excellent palate cleansers and earned points for presentation, but I'd prefer a heftier serving and the chance to request a dressing.
Our entrées followed an indulgent appetizer of fritto delizie ($12), a platter of fried calamari, fried Arborio rice balls, spicy, thick-cut French fries, and mozzarella in carrozza. The last translates to "mozzarella in a carriage." Cheese, plum tomatoes, and basil were pressed between slices of Italian bread, which were egg-battered and fried. Similar to a grilled cheese sandwich, this dish supposedly inspired people to make mozzarella sticks. Tiberio's rendition called to mind French toast, and I even wondered if it had a touch of cinnamon. At any rate, it was sinfully good.
The platter came with a powerfully spicy dipping sauce of habanero-chipotle mayonnaise, which I smothered onto the calamari rings and fried bits of cherry peppers. My father, though, could not handle the heat. We both enjoyed the rice balls - crispy and golden-browned on the outside; piping hot, creamy, and stuffed with cheese inside.
My cup of Zuppa di Fagioli ($3.95) with pasta, beans, and pancetta smelled warm and comforting but tasted rather plain by comparison. It was no match for the soups my grandmother and her sisters used to make.
Throughout, our server was outstanding. She attended efficiently to the little things, like refilling water glasses and bringing us a second basket of warm Italian bread after we devoured the first. The bread, by the way, came with olive oil and two mouth-watering spreads - sundried tomato pesto and aioli.
At the end of the meal, fully stuffed, I ordered dessert anyway - a dark chocolate crème brulee. Unfortunately, an overtorched crust left it tasting a little burnt, but scraping that aside revealed a velvety, insanely rich mousse beneath, for which I easily made room.
