ALMOST THERE

For more than a decade, Little Italy’s money spot for single guys was a cozy corner eatery called Valerio’s. Hailed as one of the most romantic hideaways in town, the dimly lit trattoria worked magic on one’s date, serving as a form of courtship catnip. Sure, the experience left a man’s wallet a little worse for wear, but the return on investment always seemed to outweigh the cost.

A couple of months ago, Valerio’s relocated to the old Battuto space
up the street. On paper, the move seemed like a no-brainer: It provided
chef and owner Valerio Iorio with more seats, improved visibility and a
roomier kitchen. In reality, the move may have just killed the
mood.

Relocations and duplications often prove ill-fated. Iorio himself
learned that lesson when he was forced to shutter his Solon outpost
after less than two years. Granted, that particular location burns
through restaurants like Keith Richards burns through Marlboros, but
the point is still taken.

New surroundings force us to take a fresh look at old friends. What
for years may have come across as a minor blemish emerges under the
harsh lights of scrutiny as a major flaw. One too many of those flaws
and pretty soon your date is texting backup boys on her Blackberry.

I recall how tickled a dinner date was when the suave waiter recited
the night’s specials, nonchalantly insinuating that, at Valerio’s,
menus are déclassé. Nowadays, my wife grumbles, “Why
can’t they just print all those out? Do they expect to us to ask the
price for each and every one?” No, my dear, that’s precisely the
point.

Italian restaurants are lauded for their bread service. Little else
kickstarts a meal like warm, crusty bread and a plate of fruity olive
oil. At Valerio’s, diners make do with pale slices bundled in paper
towels with still-frozen butter packets — this at a place that
charges $31 for osso buco. As Seth Meyers would say: Really?

Still, the bread serves its purpose when a deep terrine of mussels
($11.95) arrives. Sufficiently succulent and submerged in a garlicky
tomato broth, the mussels do wonders to elevate our mood. Sadly, the
joy is short-lived. Prosciutto-wrapped melon ($11.95) works so well on
account of the seductive interplay between sweet and salty. Drape a few
slices of too-thick prosciutto over crunchy, unripe cantaloupe, and the
outcome is anything but sexy.

Proving much more successful is a refreshingly straightforward dish
of smoked salmon carpaccio ($11.95). Thin leaves of salmon top a mixed
green salad, receiving little more than capers, lemon juice and olive
oil by way of adornment.

Iorio has always worked wonders with veal, and his version of
saltimbocca ($20.95) picks up right where he left off. Thin slices of
quality veal are wrapped with prosciutto, crowned with a judicious
amount of cheese and bathed in a lively white wine sauce. All that’s
missing is the sage. The veal is joined by grilled asparagus and
run-of-the-mill roasted potatoes.

Bad timing tarnishes an otherwise dreamy dish of calamari risotto
($19.95). Had the rice stayed on the stove for a few moments longer, it
would have moved past the crunchy stage and sailed straight into creamy
land. Instead, we focus our advances on the remarkably tender squid and
the buttery broth.

Valerio’s doesn’t offer half orders of pasta. If it did, diners
would not be compelled to choose between an entrée and a $16
plate of spaghetti, as we were one night at the bar. So, instead of a
richer meal and a larger tab, my wife and I snuggled up to a very
average plate of penne with meat sauce ($15.95). Despite sitting
directly in front of the bartender, we had to request, at four separate
times, water, silverware, side plates and cheese for the pasta.

For better or for worse, the Battuto space got a bit of a makeover.
A new 10-seat bar was constructed in the front of the restaurant, just
beyond the floor-to-ceiling glass façade. While bar seats are
always nice to have, the view now offered to passersby has changed from
diners eating to barflies drinking. I think the former does more to
attract business than the latter.

When I spoke to Iorio six months ago about the impending move, he
trumpeted the fact that he would be returning to the kitchen after a
six-year absence. That may be true on some nights, but on one visit, we
observed him stroll in halfway through dinner service. During another,
we never saw him at all.

Dear Iorio: Wherever you are and whatever you’re doing, come back to
work. We need our wingman.

dining@clevescene.com

This article appears in Jun 17-23, 2009.