Spiaggia

Ratings Guide:
Half handshake, half chest-bump hug – 5 stars
Chest bump – 4 stars
Fist bump – 3 stars
High five – 2 stars
Handshake – 1 star
Manly ass slap – ½ star
Fone and fone – 0 stars




Restaurant: Spiaggia
Location: 980 N. Michigan Ave.


“Spiaggia don’t lie.”

So Geoff and I are sitting down, eating our dinner, and we’ve both been a little over served. After about two bites of his entrée, he turns to me and slurs, “I want to scribe the first line of your review.” Then he took a dramatic pause. “Spiaggia don’t lie. Spiaggia don’t lie.” He makes a good point. Spiaggia don’t lie.

I know what you’re asking yourself. Why in the hell were you and Geoff eating dinner together at Spiaggia? It’s not exactly the kind of place you and a friend go to and grab a bite to eat. Well, friends of ours from high school got married, and the reception was at Spiaggia. Now, my wife couldn’t attend because of a prior commitment, and Geoff’s wife couldn’t attend because he isn’t married or dating anybody. So, we went together. Which worked out great because they had an open bar and Geoff’s been known to put out after he’s had one-to-many. And I was in luck, because he had about nine-to-many.

The wedding was a beautiful Catholic wedding that only lasted about thirty minutes. Most Catholic weddings are a full service, lasting at least an hour. So anytime a Catholic wedding is only thirty minutes it becomes a beautiful Catholic wedding. After the wedding we drove down to Geoff’s place, which is around Grand and Ogden. We had an hour to kill before the reception started, and it was nice out, so we thought it would be a good idea to walk to Spiaggia from there. He didn’t really look at the invite, so he had no idea where it was, and I was convinced that it was on the 600 block of N. Michigan. So we figured we’d hustle straight down Grand, cut over to Ohio, and be there in plenty of time. The walk was nice. We talked. We laughed. We made every girl we saw feel so uncomfortable she would cross the street to avoid us. It was great. So, we hit Michigan Ave., looked around, and had no idea where this place was. We walked around for a couple of blocks, calling everyone we know and asking doormen and people on the street where the place was. Nobody had a clue. Finally I walked into the Coach store and pleasantly approached a couple of the ladies working there. “Do either of you know where Spiaggia is?” The first girl looked blank. Never heard of it. The second girl looked annoyed, “You mean Spagga?” correcting my pronunciation as she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, it’s down at 900 N. Michigan,” she said and turned to walk away. Thanks for the help. And by the way, bitch, it’s Spiaggia where I come from.

OK, so now we’re at the reception, drinks are flowing, I’m catching up with old friends, all is well. Then we see someone walking around with an appetizer tray, and I get a little excited. Then I see the tray. It’s filled with spoons, and each spoon has a tiny appetizer on it. Now I’m nervous that I’m gonna have to go to McDonald’s after dinner just so I don’t starve to death. I take the spoon, which has a small piece of artichoke on it, and devour it. Great. Eventually another tray comes around with more spoons, but these have prosciutto. Also great. Looking back it was genius. Just a tiny, tiny sample that whet my appetite and left me wanting more. Brilliant.

So we sit down for dinner and toast the happy couple with a glass of champagne. Just then our buddy Andres, aka Ronnie Physical, comes running over and puts everything in perspective for us. “I had no idea how nice this place was. They got white people serving the water.”

For starters we all got the Mozzarella di bufala con pomodori, cipolle, e pepperoni. Which is Italian for good-ass salad. And not the kind of good-ass salad you get in prison. This was basically a caprese salad with buffalo mozzarella, drizzled with olive oil and accented with a couple of vegetables. It was fantastic.

Next was the Ravioletti di formagella, which was ravioli filled with goat cheese and covered with a sauce that had a strong olive taste. I don’t really like olives, and the sauce was heavy on the olive flavoring. But even so, it was still really good, it just wouldn’t have been my first choice. And if I go back I probably wouldn’t get it again, but that’s just me.

And now came the entrée. I went with the fish. Normally at a wedding I go with the meat, because the fish is almost always salmon, and I don’t like salmon. But the fish tonight was Swordfish (Pesce spada alla costa assura to be exact) and I couldn’t pass it up. And I’m glad I didn’t. While the steak looked great, the fish was the perfect dish. Great flavor to it and perfectly cooked. My fork effortlessly cut through the large portion and tore off each piece. And I love the way fish can fill you up but doesn’t sit heavy in your stomach, which is good when you’ve had three drinks and are on your fifth glass of wine and your date for the night keeps putting his hand on your knee (not that I was complaining).

After dinner I noticed Ronnie Physical holding two cups of some fancy coffee. I went over and discovered that out in the lobby area they had a guy making espresso drinks. So, I strolled out there and got Geoff and me a couple of cappuccinos. When I brought it back to the table Geoff lit up. I’m no coffee expert. I brew it every morning, I know I like it strong, and I know I like Intelligentsia. But that’s about as much as I know. Geoff, on the other hand, is a bit of a coffee expert. Well, espresso really. And after one sip he turned to me and said, “Wow, this is perfect.” So that means they know what they’re doing. Then he touched my knee again. This was going well.

Dessert came and was a chocolate multi-layer cake served with a small side of ice cream. Guess what? It was also great. It was also at this time that Mr. M, (Two Moons Mathismo’s dad) was talking to our buddy Cornell who lives in New York. Cornell was inviting him out to visit, and Mr. Mathis responded by saying, “I know, I know. But I got to figure out what to do with my wife. You know you don’t bring sand to the beach.” Maybe it was the 1.3 blood alcohol level, but I couldn’t stop laughing.

As dinner wound down the music wound up, which allowed Geoff to do some Crip Walking and me to drop the Skateboard on fools. And that was that. Geoff and I danced the night away to the sounds of Stevie Wonder, Bel Biv Devoe, Bobby Brown, and more. We stumbled out of there at 1 a.m., but rumor has it the rest of the crowd danced until 3, as the staff stood there crossing there arms and hoping the night would be over sooner than later.

Just a great night overall. There’s nothing better than catching up with friends you don’t get to see often enough. And there’s also nothing better than Geoff’s goodnight kiss, which is the perfect blend between passion and compassion. Thanks Geoff.

Spiaggia was great. And if the wedding menu we were served is this good, I can only imagine how good the full menu is in the dinning room. But, until I actually eat in the actual restaurant, I can only give Spiaggia a chest bump with a manly ass slap. But I’m sure it would get a perfect score on my next visit. Stay tuned.



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