I had a weird sense of Déjà vu, as I settled in to the tiny two top at Trattoria Di Monica, or Little Monica’s, as Steve affectionately calls it. I realized that this space used to be Sage, and in another lifetime (for me and the restaurant) I had sat at this exact table.
Steve and I were in the North End for the St. Agrippina feast. Color Me Badd was the headliner and I made Steve suffer though 8 horrific songs before the finale of “I want to sex you up,” Ironically, Agrippina was venerated as a virginity martyr and the patron saint of bacterial diseases and infections, among other things - maybe someone should have thought of that before booking CMB.
In other Déjà vu news, last year, Steve and I went to the St. Agrippina feast and then ate at Vinoteca di Monica. The menus are very similar and we, again, ordered the fried calamari. It was just as delicious as it was last year. He had the sweet potato gnocchi with Italian sausage and broccoli rabe. He thought it was outstanding and finished every morsel. I liked it, but the flavors and the heaviness of the dish felt inappropriate for July. I felt the same way about my braciolettini di Vitello – a roasted veal stuffed with cheese wrapped in prosciutto, basil and garlic over spinach fettuccine in a eggplant, mushroom and tomato sauce. It was really delicious, but this is what I want to tuck in to on a cold October night, not a sultry summer night.
Our service was proficient, and Steve enjoyed his wine. They only offer wine, no cocktails for me.
I was hankering for a sweet and so we strolled down to Gelateria. I ordered a scoop of hazelnut and it was awful. The texture was completely wrong; it was a combination of icy and spongy. I never thought I would describe gelato as spongy, but this was and it was gross. The flavor was awful as well. There was barely any hazelnut flavor; like they used the water from washing the hazelnuts instead of the actual nuts. At $5 for a small, it was absurd. Capogiro, how can I convince you to open a Boston outpost?