It also means the bread is crusty (and good even if they were to run out of dipping sauce), the pasta isn't overcooked and the espresso, even decaf, is smooth and topped with crema. They're not here for novello Italian, but for the pizzas and Mama Mia dishes of the south and old Italian neighborhoods, served up with fresh style.įresh style means the salads have more to them than iceberg, including a grating of ricotta salata, the underappreciated cheese that is Southern Italy's alternative to feta. At dinner it bustles like a crowded dining car, except that all the passengers know each other and chat amiably from table to table about upcoming plays, homework assignments and new cars. And more than I expected in Cafe Cibo, a basic Italian joint shoehorned into office building space that previously supported only yogurt and sub sandwiches.Īfter barely a year, owner Frank Schittino has made Cibo (pronounced CHEE-BO) a bright, lively space, almost a bistro, with cooks in white coats and busy waiters shuttling through the kitchen and down the narrow dining room. Officially, this is dipping sauce, but one dip and I switched to a spoon, a sure sign I was a newcomer (you can tell the longtime fans: they put it on everything, including lettuce).Ī decent tomato and one killer sauce are small things, but care for freshness and a shot of originality are more than enough to make a tiny restaurant stand out _ and get more out of a tinier kitchen. It does have a little marinara, chopped herbs and a hint of anchovy, but the secret is that it's bound with butter, rich, wonderful butter. Not marinara, alfredo, pizza or royale, but a ramekin of a thick orange potion served with the bread. I'd be lying if I told you that people pack this place at lunch and dinner for tomatoes they come for something wickedly caloric: the sauce.
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