Red Sauce Sundays
Every Sunday evening, Monello morphs into an entirely different restaurant, as chef Mike DeCamp converts his stylish dining room into a Rat Packey red-sauce house he's affectionately dubbed Mama DeCampo's.
"I grew up eating that food and remember a time in the Twin Cities when there were a lot of restaurants that served that kind of food and did it well," he said. "They've dwindled over the years."
What a great idea to resurrect that beloved genre. I suspect that if we were to step into a time machine, we might discover that those restaurants might not hold up to our contemporary tastes. Happily, DeCamp's version does, and then some.
The main event is a multicourse spread that includes delectably old-school garlic bread, a hearty chopped salad, a heaping helping of either chicken Parmesan (highly recommended) or chicken piccata (also respectable), spaghetti tossed one of two ways — with either red sauce (lively) or cacio e pepe (simple and sublime) — and a choice of desserts: tiramisu (fine), cannolis (so-so), spumoni (lovely).
The price is $24 a pop, not exactly Olive Garden territory, but this isn't exactly Olive Garden cooking (or service), either. There are also plenty of a la carte options — including all the dishes mentioned above — served in portions that would flatten a family of four. My favorite is the lasagna, a beautifully constructed and gloriously cheesy affair that radiates winter comfort food at its most satisfying.
DeCamp took cues from his mother's recipe ("We're not an Italian family; I'm just a Norwegian who loves Italian food," he said) but ramped it up with plenty of chef-ed up flourishes, starting with delicate, house-made pasta (an eggless semolina-and-water formula), a robust pork-, beef- and bechemal-enriched sauce and layers of pepperoni, mozzarella and provolone. The secret — and decidedly plebeian ingredient — is, yes, that Minnesota hot-dish favorite, cottage cheese.
Half the fun of dining here is soaking up the restaurant's all-in enthusiasm. Each Sunday, the staff hangs new curtains, pulls out red-and-white checkered tablecloths, switches out lampshades, lights candles shoved into Chianti bottles and temporarily decorates the place with copper Jell-O molds, white-and-blue Pyrex cookware and other scavenged, garage-sale accoutrements.
The bar gets into the act, too, with a short, highly approachable wine list (selling the bargain-priced house white and red by the half-liter and liter thoughtfully extends the kitchen's let's-all-share vibe) and mixing up classic supper-club cocktails. Refreshing sodas, too, from blood orange to amaretto.