Here are the basics on La Tavola - Husband and wife team where he is chef and she is pastry chef open a very successful made-from-scratch Italian restaurant next door to a shooting range in Powell, Ohio (near the famed Columbus Zoo, about 35 minutes northwest of downtown Columbus, depending on traffic); lease is renegotiated and they are forced to move to new location, further south in Dublin (home of the Wendy's Corporation and the late Dave Thomas, just to put it in a global light, about 25 minutes from downtown, again, depending on traffic). The new location is the slightly lodge-like former Riverview Cafe and Gibby's, and is positioned right on the Scioto (pronounce sy-OH-ta) river, complete with patio on lovely wooded ravine. Add a wood-fired oven, open the place up a bit to lighten it, add some flowing curtains, and voila, a success is improved. Sort of.
I feel conflicted as I write this review, because I am not sure what angle I should take - as though I'd never read another review? as though my first visit didn't happen? As though I've never worked in a restaurant? I have decided to take all things into account, because I have been explained to my readers in previous posts how you should be skeptical about every review you read from major reviewers. Mainly because, as I've said it before, everyone knows who they are. No one knows who I am, and no one knows who you are, so we are on equal footing.
I will start by saying that I dined at the Powell location once, years ago, and had fond memories. Husband and I always meant to go back, but unfortunately we are not want to drive that far for sustenance; therefore, we were happy to learn that La Tavola had relocated to a slightly closer location. Reading the review in Columbus Monthly (alas, you can only read the recap on their website) literally made me salivate, Mr. Christensen gave it the rare 5 stars (again, alas, you have to pay $2.95 if you'd like to read it in the Columbus Dispatch archive) and I have been dying to visit the reincarnated Dublin version. Just so you know I was going with the highest of hopes.
I will only say the following about my first visit to La Tavola: they comped our entire check, wine and everything. I believe I mentioned before that I don't know anyone there - this wasn't out of any sort of bribery, except that I might never discuss the atrocities of that evening again, I suppose. I would like to mention here that we did not complain about anything on that evening - I didn't throw a fit, I didn't ask where my food was, I never requested to speak with a manager, nothing. I didn't demand anything. Husband and I were very nice.
It was a rainy Thursday night, our second venture to La Tavola. We took advantage of the complimentary valet parking and entered the restaurant, without a reservation (Husband and I usually eat at the bar, where the staff is usually better, except in my restaurant, of course, where I am not a bartender). The bar was crowded with other guests waiting for tables but there was a small opening where Husband and I could stand and order a glass of wine. Service was timely enough, considering the crowd. I would like to digress here and talk about the clientele at La Tavola, but I'm going to do it at the end, so you don't have to read it if you don't want to.
Okay, let's get on with the food. We ordered the light, featured anitpasti, which included grilled asparagus, and other more Summery items that I can't remember, but we received the regular menu anitpasti misti instead (pictured above), which featured imported salami (good, naturally cured with a sweet gaminess), good prosciutto appropriately sliced thinly so as not to get inedible chunks of fat, and a nicely-executed house made mortadella - I would have liked an addition of pistachios, but who am I to judge - along with chunks of Asiago, roasted red peppers and capers, and lightly grilled toast points. It was soundly executed but could have used a few more toast points (we never received bread service, but I know from my first visit it is a soft, white Italian bread served with a dish of olive oil containing under-roasted, slightly bitter cloves of garlic).
The nice thing about La Tavola's menu is most items are available in half portions, so there is a lot of room to try things out and share. I am a fan of this sort of dining because I get bored eating entire entrees, and therefore rarely make it past the appetizer section of other restaurants. Husband and I opted for half portions of the tortelloni en brodo, calf's liver, and the featured risotto (allow 20 minutes!)
The pasta at La Tavola is homemade - on a previous occasion, we tried the orecchiete with tomato sauce 
and mozzarella. The pasta itself was very tasty. The tortelloni en brodo features housemade pasta wrapped around a filling of mortadella (which, by the way, is a cured sausage made of very finely ground pork and beef with chunks of fat - it is the original baloney, by the way. La Tavola's version is cooked rather than cured), pork and prosciutto in a tomato-y broth. I suppose I should have read the menu better, because it clearly states "rich tomato broth." When I received the dish, I had been expecting a lighter broth. I believe a more traditional version of "en brodo" (in broth) would be a lighter, meat stock-based broth, but I have never been to Italy, so I won't stake my cred on that. This broth was almost a thinned-out tomato sauce, tasting very rich and heavy. The filling was truly delicious but suffered from being masked by the too-heavy, chewy pasta. Husband, who has been to Italy, said the tortelloni and angilotti ("pillows" similar to ravioli) made by the grandmothers of the winemakers whose estates he visited was light and transparent, allowing the filling to show through, both literally and figuratively. I ended up removing the filling and eating it on its own, then eating the chewy pasta shells with the sauce.
The calf's liver was a glorified liver and onions, sliced thinly and sauteed within an inch of its life and smothered with peppers and onions, with a good measure of sage thrown in. The menu said the liver would be cooked in butter with lemon and sage, and I was - again - expecting a lighter presentation, with the liver being cooked lightly enough to let its natural tenderness show through. Unfortunately, this liver lacked the delicate nature I associate with true calf's liver and hearkened back to the tough, cooked-blood powderiness of old beef liver which I hated as a child.
The flavors of the featured risotto - smoked shrimp with tomatoes and basil - were the best of the evening. 
Again, however, the execution was lacking. The rice could have used one more spoonful of stock stirred in, and the dish would have benefited from the traditional stirring-in of cream or other fat at the end. The result was more of a pilaf with no oozing goodness usually found in risotto. Here, a caveat - I realized some people like risotto swimming in a soup, practically. I'm not one of those people, but I feel the risotto should not be able to hold its shape when placed in the bowl - it should ooze and relax into the shape of the bowl, letting its steaming creaminess fill every round. As you can see from the picture, this risotto in a ball, firmly containing its ingredients. I felt the risotto also suffered from a lack of attention on the stove - while some kernels were fully cooked, others chewed into chalkiness. Risotto is very hard to prepare in a restaurant - the very nature of the busy-ness and multitasking necessary in the kitchen makes it almost impossible to tend to, which also makes it a good benchmark of the kitchen staff.
For dessert, we chose a nice vanilla panna cotta topped with balsamic macerated mixed fresh and dried berries topped with slivered almonds. It was good, but seemed a little wintery considering the amount of local strawberries available right now. Actually, most of the menu seemed on the heavy side. There was a lack of seasonal consciousness I would expect from a restaurant which changes its menu frequently.
I wanted to sit at a table so that I might be able to experience the service in the dining room, but Husband and I ended up eating at the bar on both occasions. The bar staff was always friendly and competent. The mostly very young service staff seemed to have a constant frantic disorganization about it - they didn't exude the ease of confident, experienced servers. Sitting near the computer and service bar, we received an earful of the shouldn't be but always is standard inappropriate restaurant worker talk, full of witty banter and the occasional obscenity.
So, what is the overall prognosis. As I sat down and began to write, I had a crisis of conscience - maybe I should give them one more chance. I think most reviewers try to visit a restaurant at least three times. Most reviewers have someone paying their tabs, however, so I will have to settle for twice. I find that I am unable to separate my experience at La Tavola from the reviews I have read. It is certainly not a 5 star restaurant. A five star restaurant, such as Kihachi, has flawless execution in the kitchen every time. Even if I don't care for a flavor in a dish, I can tell it has been crafted by experts. A five star restaurant has a chef who, if s/he isn't cooking the food personally, checks each dish and constantly tastes what their minions are creating to be sure it is perfect. A five star restaurant accepts reservations for any amount to ensure they have an even distribution of tables instead of being a chaotic madhouse for an hour or more every evening. A five star restaurant has expertly trained, confident and competent staff members who don't grumble about poor tips within earshot of the guests. On both visits, La Tavola seemed almost critically understaffed. It was hard having a less-than-stellar experience at La Tavola, because I have heard so many great things about it, but it is clear they saved their best for their reviewers, and do not have the ability to maintain that kind of consistency for the rest of us. That is why I remind you to question all reviews - just because Jon Christensen - who, by the way, is an attorney who has represented many of the restaurants he reviews - has a stellar experience somewhere doesn't mean you will, too.
I am also unable to separate my years in the restaurant business from my writing. Husband and I were discussing at dinner whether this is a hindrance or a benefit in reviewing - most of our local reviewers are business men whose qualifications are years of being able to afford to eat in the best restaurants. It is hard to be in a poorly-run restaurant when you have worked in a restaurant for years and years. It is hard to relax when you can click off the hundred things you'd change to make things run more smoothly. It's hard not to scoff at the little things you would tell the staff to do at the beginning of their shift so they wouldn't be flustered now - for example, when we asked for menus, they were delivered with last night's special sheet inside - "Oh, those are the wrong specials - wait a minute and I'll get the right one." Well, it is 8pm - why wouldn't you have thought of that at 4pm, when you were setting up the bar? It seems that might be one of the first things one would do before service.
Info: Trattoria La Tavola 6125 Riverside Drive, Dublin (Northwest side) 614.760.8700 Reservations are only accepted for parties of 6 or more and there is a confusing, call ahead to get on the list system.
*Note about the clientele, which is unrelated to the review of the actual restaurant, but might explain the exasperation felt by some of the staff. I realize I occasionally berate suburbanites, and those of you who read my website who live in the suburbs might take offense from time to time, and I apologize if you aren't one of the types of people I am about to discuss. As another caveat, I would like to state that I am aware that the owners of La Tavola are in no way responsible for their clientele, and this does not influence my review. Here are a few scenes I witnessed last night: I am standing at the bar and three ladies are sitting next to me. One gets up and I move out of her way so that she can have enough room to get out, I say excuse me and move, and she snaps at me "I'm not leaving so don't you try to sit in my seat!" I look to see if she is joking but she isn't. A foursome enters the restaurant and puts their name down for a table - the wait for a table is just over an hour. They stand in the bar and order drinks. A table of four gets up and leaves the restaurant, and the foursome decides they do not have to wait with the other riffraff for a table, they will just sit at this dirty table. And then they will go and complain to the hostess that their table is dirty. A busboy comes to clean the table, accidentally leaving a napkin behind. One of the men from the foursome waves the dirty napkin around, trying to attract attention, and then drops it onto the floor with a snort. He then goes to complain to the hostess again, all while the hostess and manager are kindly trying to explain that there are numerous other groups waiting for this table. The foursome insists. They will stay at this table and be served now. These people are in their mid-40s. They aren't children, but you wouldn't know by their actions. Further along, when I try to bogart 2 bar stools after a group leaves, a man appears from nowhere to tell me that he wants these seats, why don't I go down to the end by the service bar? Because I've been waiting for these seats, I explain, but no, he won't have it. He literally pulls the bar stool from my hand and triumphantly puts his foot on a rung with a sneer in my direction, claiming it as his own. So I go sit by the service bar, and he never even sits in the chair, just stands behind it. I just don't see this sort of behavior in the restaurant where I work in the city. It's the strangest thing. It might seem as if I am some sort of rude, poorly dressed street urchin from these stories, but I'm just a polite girl out on a date with her Husband. My server instincts follow me wherever I go - I'm the first to step aside for an oncoming person (even a server, which sometimes leads to a game of "No, you first, I insist" until I realize I'm the guest, and go ahead). It's as if these people have to be first, no matter what.
This picture is of this year's Christmas gift, a spurtled sycamore bowl which my Dad made for me with his own two hands. I still promise not to be too sentimental too often here, but I did one for Mom, and I'm doing one for Dad, too. This is a Christmas story, but also a dad story.
