Rao’s

Omerta

“Mista Silverstein, how they hangin’?” boomed raucously across the main dining room in the unmistakable voice of Johnny “Roastbeef” Williams.  Roastbeef is the greeter, raconteur and wisecracker at Rao’s in the heart of Hollywood, the west coast branch of the famous and exclusive East Harlem Italian haunt.  My Tuscan born wife and I were introduced to Rao’s by our close friends, Barry and Rachel Silverstein.  Barry made a fortune on Wall Street, mostly negotiated in the cramped, wooden booths at the Manhattan Rao’s that were once occupied by such eminent luminaries as Frank Sinatra, Joe DiMaggio and Tony Soprano.  Rachel is a multi-talented virtuoso who forsook her Julliard education as a classical violinist to devote her talents to the healing arts by obtaining her medical degree.  Barry and Rachel move and shake as much as any mover or shaker.  You know you are worth knowing if they know you, because they know everyone worth knowing. 

Roastbeef was discovered at Rao’s New York by Martin Scorsese.  Upon meeting him, Marty, as he is known to the Silversteins, immediately cast him in “Goodfellas” alongside Robert DeNiro and Ray Liotta.  Marty was so impressed by Roastbeef’s natural magnetism and charisma that he renamed the character “Roastbeef” in his honor.  After moving to Hollywood, where he has continued his successful career as a character actor, Roastbeef took up residence at the Hollywood Rao’s.  

Roastbeef is a bona fide unique and authentic personality; as he puts it, he is who he is.  His charm augments the dining experience at Rao’s.  One can get a good meal at many restaurants but true hospitality is rare and, like a Ferrari Daytona, never goes out of style.

He explained that Rao’s serves “peasant food” from Southern Italy, where if they can catch it they have a recipe for it.  After meeting my wife, he compared his Sicilian roots to her Tuscan roots, Bassa Italia vs. Alta Italia, the Mafia vs. the Renaissance.  He described himself as a “subumano” (a subhuman) in contrast to the elegant and fashionable Northerners.

Located in an understated section of Tinseltown, Rao’s is surrounded by a jumble of 1920s era bungalows and modern post-production facilities.  Upon entering, there is an immediate energy of a lively crowd buzzing at the bar to the right and booths crowded with diners to the left.

Each table is lit by a lamp constructed from a bottle of Rao’s famous Homemade Marinara Sauce, probably the best bottled sauce on your market’s shelf (with apologies to the memories of Paul Newman and Chef Boyardee).  Rao’s Marinara Sauce is slow cooked in small batches with sweet Italian plum tomatoes, olive oil, onions, fresh basil, garlic, oregano, and black pepper to evoke Proustian olfactory memories of the aroma of nonna’s kitchen.

According to Roastbeef, at Rao’s they “don’t do what they don’t do.”  They serve Neanderthal-sized portions of red sauce Italian comfort food.  If you are looking for ketogenic, neo-paleo, flexitarian or any other type of food that won’t travel directly from your stomach to your heart to clog the widowmaker artery, please go elsewhere.

Succumbing to societal pressure, we bypassed the direct route to massive caloric intake by starting with the Roasted Red Peppers & Mozzarella Salad, an indulgent choice as salads go.  Tender, vibrant roasted red peppers are artistically presented against creamy, white fresh buffalo mozzarella.  The peppers are intermingled with golden raisins and pine nuts to add an accent of flavors and textures.  The dish is drizzled with olive oil with hints of garlic and garnish.  One could brag that the peppers are rich in vitamins A and C as well as antioxidants and the mozzarella provides protein and calcium, but save that claptrap for the sirtfood crowd.

As a second appetizer we followed with the renowned Rao’s Meatballs, a clever trifecta twist on the classic meatball by combining ground beef, pork and veal.  Juicy, tender and savory, the softball sized hunks are covered with seasoned breadcrumbs and, of course, the classic Rao’s marinara sauce.  Conversion therapy for your vegan friends.

For the primi, we sampled two pasta dishes.  Rigatoni Pomodoro is an excellent choice for the more faint of heart.  The simplicity of the dish allows the high-quality ingredients to shine.  The nooks and crannies of the tubular rigatoni soak up the sweetness of the crushed San Marzano tomatoes, the earthiness of the garlic and the touches of fresh basil and onions.  This is the type of dish that can be savored slowly over intimate conversation, punctuated, of course, with Italian gesticulation.  A more adventurous selection is the Pappardelle Ragu.  Al dente wide, flat noodles are blanketed with slow-cooked, fall-apart tender braised short rib.  Crushed tomatoes and red wine create a velvety texture, while aromatics and spices add to the flavor palette.

You may be wondering, dear reader, why, of all of the Italian restaurants in the City of Angels, I, Braindoc, have chosen to review this particular establishment? (And why I crammed so many subordinate clauses into one sentence).  The Bone-In Veal Parmesan.  A gargantuan veal chop is pounded to the perfect thickness to specifications experimentally calculated by the Culinary Engineering Department at Caltech.  Of course it is critical to have a bone-in chop as the most succulent portion is skeletal-adjacent.  The chop is then flawlessly breaded, fried to golden perfection and slathered with Rao’s zesty marinara sauce and gooey fresh mozzarella.  The dish is presented with a side of Lipitor; the maître d’ has a red phone hotline to the cardiology department at Cedars-Sinai.

As a concession to self-preservation, we ordered a side of Broccoli Rabe.  Rapini, as it is otherwise known, has smaller florets and more slender stems than its broccoli cousin.  It has an earthier, slightly bitter flavor with a hint of nuttiness that pairs well with a bold main course.  It was served simply, sautéed with a touch of olive oil.

I am currently in witness protection because I have broken the omerta.  I have spilled the beans, given up the goods, let the cat out of the bag; an informant, a squealer, a rat.  Until now only the cognoscenti, the crème de la crème, the in-crowd have known about Rao’s.  I’ve got to run; Roastbeef just called to warn me that my identity has been breached and hit men are only minutes away.