On Thursday evening, I took the long drive down US-30 to Jeanette and
Persichetti's. (I have an ambivalent relationship with US-30; I have a few fond food memories from that road, such as Vincent's Pizza Park and Chesterfield's, but I know that if we drive down US-30 looking for a good place to eat, we'll end up at some wretched cesspit like Casa D'Ice.)
Persichetti's may also qualify as a bar; there are neon beer signs in the front windows, and you have to pass the bar to get to the dining room at the back. But I'd call this "bar and restaurant", not just a bar, and the dining room didn't feel bar-like at all.
Persichetti's by
Ralph Melton, on Flickr
Persichetti's by
Ralph Melton, on Flickr
I'll skim over the bread basket, and only mention of the salad that it included olives and pickled beets and homemade Italian dressing.
Persichetti's Salad by
Ralph Melton, on Flickr
The wedding soup was quite nice. It did not include as many greens as some wedding soups, but it had little meatballs, chicken, and carrots, and I liked the chew of the firm pastina.
Wedding Soup by
Ralph Melton, on Flickr
For an entree, I ordered the Italian sampler: spaghetti, gnocchi, cheese ravioli, meat ravioli, lasagna, and a meatball. This reminded me in many ways of LoBello's in Coraopolis, which also served a very similar Italian sampler.
The spaghetti was very thick spaghetti noodles, cooked until they were super-soft. This was one of the points that reminded me particularly of LoBello's, which featured the same sort of thick, soft spaghetti; I wonder if there's some specific common heritage of these two restaurants that makes it so.
After tasting the spaghetti, I thought the gnocchi might be equally tender in the way that makes gnocchi really special, but it was dense and sturdy.
I am generally not a big fan of lasagna, because of a foodie quirk of my own: I really care about layered foods being structured so that you can get a good bite of every layer. As an example of something that fails this test, imagine a not-very-good ice cream sandwich, with a thick, tough cookie and a soft, melty filling, so that as you bite down, the ice cream squooshes out and leaves you with nothing but a bite of wet cookie and a stain on your shirt. Lasagna can fall into the same trap. But this did not; the noodles were so soft that my fork glided through the noodles as easily as through the ricotta layers between them.
The meatball and the meat ravioli had a very mild, delicate flavor. I tend to prefer my Italian food full of garlic and brio, but this mild style is good in its own way.
Italian Sampler by
Ralph Melton, on Flickr
I saw on the menu a mention of their fish sandwich with hot onion sauce, and I heard the waitress talking about the hot onion sauce with the folks at the next table. So I asked her about it, and she offered to bring me a sample. It was spicy and very oniony; I detected tomato, banana peppers, and lots of cooked-but-still-crunchy onions. I think it would overwhelm the taste of fish in a sandwich.
Hot onion sauce by
Ralph Melton, on Flickr
On the way back, I stopped at
Kerber's Ice Cream. (I learned another reason to stop by the dairy: they're installing a miniature golf course there.)
Untitled by
Ralph Melton, on Flickr
This picture support's
buffetbuster's claims of brightly colored ice creams:
Ice cream colors by
Ralph Melton, on Flickr
I got a double scoop of the Jamaican Me Happy flavor to take home to Lori, and I took care to get a picture that included both the description and the ice cream. I'm not sure how much of a stretch it is to call this "Jamaican"; I would have thought that a mango-and-coconut combination was as likely to be Filipino or Thai. It was very tasty, though; the coconut and strawberry filled out the sweet softness of the mango flavor.
Jamaican Me Happy by
Ralph Melton, on Flickr