Fettucine Verde
Years ago, when Nashville reached a population count that drew a new breed of big-box chain restaurants to stake a claim on our dining landscape, and especially as franchise-happy Cool Springs emerged from Williamson County farmland, the Scene decided we would review the first location of each of those.
Which is what sent me and my semi-reluctant companions to the region’s first Olive Garden on Galleria Boulevard for dinner one night. It wasn’t that it was horrible — particularly not if you like loads of cheese, cloying sauces and huge portions. I just didn’t understand the excitement that greeted its arrival.
So before I wrote the review, I called a friend in Texas who had long been a fan and asked her, “What is it you love about Olive Garden?” She replied, “Three things: I love the breadsticks, I love the bottomless salad bowl, and I love that it’s not too Italian.”
And there, ladies, gentlemen and fluid, is the secret to America’s most beloved “ethnic” chain restaurants. P.F. Chang’s is not too Chinese, Chipotle Mexican Grill is not too Mexican, Au Bon Pain is not too French, and Olive Garden is not too Italian.
At Il Forno
Other than its local address — at one end of Third Avenue South straddling Wedgewood-Houston and Chestnut Hill — Il Forno is Italian through and through. Chef Egidio Franciosa (who opened the restaurant in December 2021 with his wife/partner Jannah) grew up in Naples. The restaurant’s wood-burning brick oven was hand-built in Naples by third-generation maker Stefano Ferrara, imported to California, shipped to Nashville, installed in the Il Forno kitchen and finished on site by an Italian craftsman, hand-dazzled with gleaming gold-penny tiles.
Il Forno features a floor-to-ceiling mural of an iconic photo of legendary Italian actress/siren Sophia Loren lustily tearing into a hunk of bread. It was hand-painted by Italian American Nashvillian Tarabella Aversa, who also painted the murals on the patio walls.
The wine list is Italian; the cocktail menu includes Italian classics like a Negroni and an Aperol spritz; sparkling water and sodas are Italian imports; limoncello, sambuca, amaro and grappa are among the after-dinner beverages; and Peroni is available by the bottle.
Throughout the menu, the flavors, ingredients, traditions and techniques of Italy are fully realized on every plate, from the simplest to the most complex. Every dish is titled in Italian, though succinctly described in English. Most importantly, the flour used in the breads and pizza — milled by Naples-based company Antimo Caputo — is 00 Caputo, the absolute gold standard for authentic Neapolitan pizza.
Take a tip from La Loren and order a plate (or more, depending on the size of your party) of focaccia Napoletana, a puffy, chewy round of the rustic bread, its surface sprinkled with salt and oregano and blistered in the 900-degree oven. Pass the plate, pull off a hunk and dunk in the fruity olive oil. We also used pieces as a scoop for the robust marinara that a duo of fat meatballs was immersed in, topped with a melted dab of mozzarella, a starter special that evening.
Two carpaccios lead the appetizers, and though I rarely pass up the chance for the classic steak version, we instead opted for the carpaccio di polipo. Our curiosity was rewarded with a sublime and pristine masterpiece, an artistic arrangement of nearly translucent slices of octopus, fingerling potato and shallots, halved cherry tomatoes and a little nest of wild arugula with a dash of lemon dressing.
Carpaccio di polipo
I applaud the light hand with the dressing, which doesn’t drown but enhances the greens, as the sherry vinaigrette does to the arugula at the center of the Zio Franco, which also has candied walnuts, red wine poached pear and goat cheese, one of five salads on the menu.
Onto a round of bread on a wood cutting board, the fresella places a scoop of diced, salted Roma tomatoes marinated in olive oil, topped with several thick slices of soft cheese — which leaned more to mozzarella than burrata as described on the menu — and drizzled with a syrupy balsamic. It was delicious, but not what I was expecting when I ordered based on the promise of indulging in the decadent, oozy creaminess of burrata. Similarly, the cioppino tomato broth delivered on flavor — salty, garlicky, a bit spicy — but had only mussels and shrimp and not the clams as noted on the menu; though the bowl literally overflowed with the two shellfish, I also missed the chunks of cod or halibut typical to most versions of the Mediterranean fish stew.
The expert decision of which homemade pasta provides the best partnership for a particular sauce has been made in the kitchen, so you just have to deliberate between wild-caught octopus ragu, Bolognese, black truffle sausage with cream sauce or lamb ragu with porcini mushroom. The latter was our choice; the meat and the fungi were equally represented in the earthy sauce, which coated each perfectly al dente strand of green fettuccine.
Chef Egidio making a capricciosa pizza
Perhaps, like my family, you have long touted the pizza at Bella Napoli Pizzeria as the best in Nashville; owner Paolo Tramontana brought the Franciosas from California to Nashville in 2014 when he recruited Chef Egi for his kitchen. Perhaps you have been a follower of the Il Forno pizza truck since it hit the road in 2017, the success of which helped finance their bricks-and-mortar dream.
Chef Egi knows his pizza, and you will want to know his pizza too. Six — including the classic margherita — are tomato-based, all finished with fior di latte, a lighter iteration of mozzarella. The six pizze bianche build atop a fior di latte base. Italian meats, cheeses and Mediterranean vegetables abound as toppings, and fresh basil is strewn with a free hand. The beauty of the Stefano Ferrara oven is its blazing heat — which chars the rim of the dough, creating those signature blackened air bubbles, but in the short cook time keeps the foundation pliable enough to fold in half and eat as pizza is intended, with one hand.
Tiramisu, panna cotta and limoncello martini
No matter how strongly I insist at the end of a meal that I can’t possibly have one more bite of anything, there is always room for panna cotta, and Il Forno’s — set with a seasonal fruit compote — is not to be missed. I mean it. So light, you can also indulge in the tiramisu, which passed with flying colors the scrutiny of my pastry chef dining companion.
One caveat I cannot ignore: Il Forno’s noise level, which is exacerbated by a high metal ceiling, concrete floor and walls, lots of glass, bare wood tables, metal-framed chairs and the open dining room and kitchen. My round table of four was centered between tables along one wall and the wood banquette that also divides the bar from the dining area, and we simply could not converse without significantly raising our voices and leaning way into the table. As fabulous as the food is, the overall experience was diminished by the battle to be heard. It’s not an uncommon issue in contemporary restaurants in reclaimed spaces, but there are mitigators and sound-canceling measures that can be put in place to help lower the din. On return visits, I’ll ask for a seat on the banquette or a table against the wall, or I’ll enjoy the lovely patio.
But truthfully, I’ll take the inherently Italian raucous gathering of family and friends at a crowded table, passing plates, drinking wine, laughing, talking and, yes, yelling at one another over a “not too Italian” experience every day.
