By Kaitlin Steinberg
By Minh T Truong
By Molly Dunn
By Brooke Viggiano
By Kaitlin Steinberg
By Molly Dunn
By Molly Dunn
By Eating Our Words
"What?" I repeated loudly as my dining companion and I leaned over the table, struggling to hear each other. I'd made the mistake of asking her how she liked her spinach at one in the afternoon at Pronto Cucinino, the cutesily named new fast-casual Italian restaurant on Montrose.
At 11:45 a.m., the atmosphere in the expansive dining room had been quite pleasant, but now, an hour later, the decibel level was unbearable and conversation impossible. If Houstonians were this loud at Astros games, the team would already have a pennant. My lunchmate and I ended up going outside and sitting on a bench to compare notes on the food. "What a relief," she said as we exited the din.
This was my second visit to Pronto Cucinino, and I told her about the first one. On that visit, four of us sampled the dinner fare. The house specialty is "wood roasted lemon garlic chicken," and you get to stand beside the fragrant fowl rotating on a spit in a giant fireplace as you wait to order.
Houston, TX 77006
3191 W. Holcombe Blvd.
Houston, TX 77025
791 Town and Country Blvd.
Houston, TX 77024
Region: Outer Loop - NW
Whole chicken to
Half-chicken with two sides: $10.95
Pasta Julia: $7.75
Linguine diavolo: $9.95
Pork chop: $10.50
Italian sausage: $7.95
In a classic Pavlovian response, I ordered chicken for dinner while my mouth watered, watching them spin. A half-bird came with sides of garlic mashed potatoes and Italian-style green beans. You'd think garlic mashed potatoes might be overwhelming with a lemon-garlic chicken, but in fact I could barely taste any garlic at all in the potatoes.
Unless you eat the skin, the chicken tastes bland and only mildly smoky. The white meat was dry. But the dark and crispy skin was loaded with pieces of caramelized garlic and herbs, soaked with lemon juice and dripping with that treasured substance known as schmaltzin Yiddish and chicken fat in English. None of the three women I was eating with could be tempted by even a little taste of the chicken skin. (By the faces they made, you'd think the stuff was poisonous.)
But it fixed my problems with the faintly flavored meat and potatoes. By mixing the herb-, garlic- and fat-oozing skin with the bland chicken meat and lackluster mashed potatoes, I managed to make the whole meal taste good.
My daughter Julia couldn't resist ordering a dish called pasta Julia, a satisfying mélange of penne pasta, roasted chicken, spinach, mushrooms and marinara sauce served in an oversize bowl. We also tried a very thin and tediously tough grilled pork chop served with caramelized onions and melted Italian cheese. The Italian sausage was equally disappointing. It came with an unappetizing loose casing that had to be removed. Then one of my tablemates gagged on a large chunk of ligament that was hidden in the sausage meat. No one dared touch the rest.
But we were still on the fence after that first visit. The food wasn't great, but for a fast-casual restaurant, it wasn't all that bad either. And Pronto Cucinino certainly had Olive Garden and all the comparably priced Italian restaurant chains beat. So I came back for lunch hoping for a good experience.
I had arrived early, so I tried to get a cup of coffee while I waited. They didn't have any coffee. But they did have espresso and cappuccino. So I got a cappuccino that was so weak, the flavor of cinnamon overwhelmed the flavor of coffee. And it cost $3.
Then I almost grabbed a handful of breadsticks. They looked to be the same paper-package variety that are free at Cafe Express. Except Pronto Cucinino wanted 25 cents a package for them. So I put them back.
When my lunchmate arrived, we looked over the menu, but I insisted she remain at the table while I got up to order for both of us. It was a prime table by the window, and I knew if we both left it, the staff would clear my empty coffee cup and another party would steal the table. Fast-casual regulars are acutely aware of this problem. You can't leave your table unattended at any time in a fast-casual restaurant or you will be evicted immediately.
For lunch, I got the linguine diavolo, al dente pasta with shrimp, mushrooms and olives in what was billed as a "spicy marinara." It was a well-made sauce, with none of the watery run-off you see at mediocre Italian restaurants. But it was hardly spicy enough to merit the "devil" moniker, which is usually reserved for diabolically piquant sauces. In fact, this marinara was barely spicy at all.
My lunchmate had a nice-sized piece of roasted salmon with sautéed spinach on the side. The salmon was overcooked for my tastes. When we got outside where I could hear her, she explained that the spinach was okay, but it didn't have the bold garlicky flavors you get when you order the spinach at Nino's.
Pronto Cucinino is the fast-casual cousin to Nino's and Vincent's, the highly acclaimed Mandola family Italian restaurants located down the street on West Dallas. (Hence the cute misspelling of cucino.) My lunchmate said she thought Pronto Cucinino was "pulling their punches" on the seasonings compared to the other Mandola family restaurants. Unfortunately, I had never eaten at Nino's or Vincent's, so I had no basis for comparison.