Gables Eatery has the Right Idea

I just treated my father to dinner at an interesting restaurant: Randazzo’s Little Italy, in Coral Gables. It’s a red-and-white Italian joint, which is pretty much the only kind I like. If pink vodka sauce turns you on, swell, but like I said in my book, in my opinion, if a color isn’t in the Italian flag, it shouldn’t be on the plate.

This place has two big-screen TVs playing Godfather movies over and over. The music? Sinatra. Louis Prima. Connie Francis. Too funny. And the menu is consistent with my philosophy. It contains helpful little reminders, like, “This ain’t a health food joint.”

I ordered the spaghetti with Sunday gravy, which means tomato sauce. It came with two meatballs the size of a baby’s head, plus sausage, plus ricotta, and I would guess the portion they gave me weighed about three pounds. No exaggeration. I was hoping to try the cheesecake, but the spaghetti did me in. And it cost me $26, so I should have expected no less.

Very comfortable place. I’d go again. But I would order something smaller.

It’s kind of irritating, knowing how to cook. In the old days, I went to restaurants and ate the food and generally figured it was okay. Now I always find something wrong with it, because I’ve had such great luck with my own recipes. I think these guys should consider putting a little butter on the spaghetti. Butter has magical qualities.

If you’re ever in the Gables, you might want to drop by the place, have some food, and watch Fredo get whacked.