Man, am I glad I live in the Twin Cities. I just spent nine days in Nashville. My birthplace has a few really good places to eat, including Tayst and Margot. But for last Friday’s gathering my friend Albie was in charge, and he always likes to hit the newer, “hotter” places. So we ended up at Giovanni Ristorante.

The atmosphere was swank and swell, the beverage portion of the night wonderful (thanks primarily to what we brought). Most of all, the fellowship was spectacular, the conversation smart and direct and laden with high hilarity.

But as genteel Southerners might say, bless their hearts, but what an underwhelming operation these people are running. Or as this not-so-genteel son of the South would say, I wouldn’t go back to that underwhelming ripoff joint on somebody else’s dime.

A few of the food offerings were quite good: the short ribs, the key-lime martini with homemade limoncello crème, some of the cheeses. The rest ranged from forgettable to lamentable.

The waiter avidly pushed the cheese plate but didn’t know squat about what was on the platter (“this is a Greek Brie,” “that’s a blue cheese”) and disappeared for endless stretches. He asked if the table wanted to share two of his favorite desserts – and brought out five, all quite pricey.  But at least he was cordial and personable, and the rest of the staff did a good job of keeping our water glasses full, a must on any wine-soaked evening.

The prices were appalling. A salumi plate that would have amply fed one for $23. Flavor-free beef medallions – the “special” (!) — for $36.  Even more galling was the wine list, a predictable, stupendously overpriced compendium of 200- and 300-plus-percent markups at every price point (most restaurants ease up mightily on the margins when the bottles exceed $100). Another small, what’s-up-with-that detail: A veal dish included a Tocai Friulano-based sauce, but there was nary a sign of Friuli’s signature white on the wine list at this ostensibly Italian eatery.

When the bill arrived, it included a $25-per-bottle corkage fee not only on the four bottles we brought but the two we had purchased from them (!!). We also had given the staff a few ounces of a couple of our best wines, which along with purchasing two of a restaurant’s bottles usually means reduced or no corkage. After the bill was fixed – and they ever magnanimously waived corkage on one of our bottles – the tab was still $270 per couple, including tip, even though we had brought most of our wine and my wife and I had split our salad (an overdressed Caesar) and entrée (the inedible medallions).

If I had the kind of money to make that tariff acceptable, I would have chartered a plane and flown my friends north, to dine at Alma and 112 and even La Belle Vie for less money. Or I Nonni, Al Vento, D’Amico Cucina, Campiello and Broder’s Pasta Bar for better, more authentic Italian food. Oh well.

Anyway, this is kinda sorta supposed to be about wine, and there the news was all good: I brought what I consider the foremost exemplars of two signature California varietals, an Aubert Chardonnay and a Carlisle Zinfandel. And if I do say so myself – and I do – they reaffirmed my assessment. My friend Libby supplied one of those ethereal-to-the-point-of-otherworldliness red Burgundies, the 1999 Dom. Vincent Bouzereal Corton Grand Cru (a delight despite the restaurant’s lack of pinot stems). Albie brought a 2004 A. Rafanelli Dry Creek Cab that superbly showcased the appellation and the grape.

 Those wines, and the unbeatable experience of lifelong friends sharing opinions, observations and experiences old and new, will be treasured long after this misbegotten eatery has been forgotten.

This entry was posted on Monday, January 26th, 2009 at 1:05 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.