Capri: An honest-to-blog Spaghetti Restaurant!

I have had such a horrible, gut-wrenching, lizard-brain need for some Italian food lately. In the words of Debbie Reynolds, "...it's like herione."

The trouble is, Milwaukee is kind of fickle about Italian.

Oh, sure. There's the Olive Garden. And Carrabba's. But those are big scary chains. With big scare calorie counts, big scary bills, and big scary ingredients in their big scary portions.

And I suppose, we have Mama Mia's. That counts, right? And Ann's, which is awesome, but... missing something.

And then there's the pizza places. Oh, the pizza places. Marco's, Maria's, Hup's, Balistreri's... but that's not what we're talking about here.

No, what I've been searching for is a restaurant to play surrogate to my beloved (and oft-visited) Victoria's in Appleton. No, it's not without its flaws. But, c'mon... have you had their pasta with Bianco sauce? Seriously.

So, it was a ho-hum Saturday evening, and after having watched three episodes of Six Feet Under back to back, I decided we should probably do another review.

Actually, Andy decided we should do another review. I was content to stay wrapped up on my couch and eat cold Spaghetti-O's all night. But I'm lame like that.

And we settled on Capri. Now, I had heard from some co-workers that Capri was the spaghetti restaurant back in the day. This intrigued me. There was such a thing as a restaurant devoted entirely to spaghetti? Really?

Well, yes and no, in the case of Capri. As their sign clearly states, they are a Pizza / Spaghetti restaurant. Glad we got that cleared up. But it's still important to note: spaghetti was once a star dish, and though we may look back on times when noodles and meat sauce got top billing with a smirk, I wouldn't be so quick to judge; I imagine, not too long from now, we'll see sushi bars as quaint.

In a time before the Food Network, before Celebrity Chefs, before Guy Fieri (Gawd, he drives me NUTS), spaghetti was a dinner to be eaten out. Sometimes in a swanky joint downtown, sometimes in a family restaurant in the neighborhood. Capri was (and still is) one of the latter.

Is Capri going to replace Victoria's in my hall of tasty pasta? Well, not exactly. But they're not the same thing, either, as we were about to find out...

Capri is housed in a smallish building on the corner of Beloit Rd. and S. 84th St. The building is, well, a bit homely, and you might not even notice it if you aren't looking for it. Relatively ample parking, and easy in and out from both streets make it pleasantly accessible. Once you're parked, don't forget that the door is facing 84th -- we ending up walking around the building before we figured that one out.

The interior is, well, homely, too. But that's okay.

I mean, it's always these places that have the best food. Look at Tandoor, for cripe's sake! If we went on looks alone, none of us would touch it with a ten-foot cattle prod. But oh, the food...

When we came in, the place was packed. Packed. I think nearly every booth was filled. That's a good sign. We had already checked out the menu online, and so we had an idea of what the offerings were. No exotic grilled meats, or heavy crazy white sauces. No flown-in-daily seafood or any of that silliness. Oh, no. It's either pizza, or pasta. And you get your pasta one of two ways: either red, or tetrazzini.

We asked our very kind, very helpful waitress about a couple of things on the menu: how was the Italian Sausage? Very good, she said, kind of spicy. How was the veal? Eh, not her favorite, she said. And the infamous manicotti? Oh, very good, she recommended.

So, Andy ordered the Capri Special (homemade Italian sausage and mostaccioli):

Lauren ordered the mostaccioli with meat and mushroom sauce:

And I ordered the Manicotti:

We all ordered our dinners, well, "dinner" style, which meant that we got them with two absolutely, freakin' huge hunks of garlic bread:

As well as a salad:

and our choice of minestrone or French onion soup. Lauren and I ordered the French onion:

While Andy ordered the minestrone:

Let's start off with the garlic bread, shall we?

Perhaps "garlic loaf" would have been a more appropriate name, and we each had two pieces to devour, and I really don't think the picture does justice to the scale of these things. Let's just say, with the weight of just one, a small yacht may not be seaworthy. The bread was liberally soaked in garlic-butterness, toasty and crunchy in all the right places, but incredibly soft on the inside. Yes, the basket had a puddle of yellow butterness in it that would make the Exxon-Valdez look weak. Yes, the oiliness got a little cloying at times. But all in all, this is the way I like my garlic bread: my grandpa Al used to actually dip his bread in a saucepan of melted "oleo" and garlic salt. So I'm perfectly on board with my anchor from the RMS Lusitania.

Our salads were nice, but nothing too out of the ordinary. A few slices of cheese, pepperoni, and peperoncinis were nice additions. Lauren, however, had the Italian dressing on hers, and it was absolutely delightful. Andy's and my ranch dressings were, well, ranch. I'd recommend the Italian, without hesitation.

Andy's minestrone was quite nice; light, with a deep tomato flavor, highlighted with the aromas of fresh vegetables. Lauren's and my French onion soups were equally tasty, and while I certainly love me some French onion soup topped with a piece of crusty bread and about two pounds of gruyere, I made an exception. The soup was well-flavored, full-bodied and had no hint of onion/beef base one-notey-ness that can fell so many other French onion soups.

As for the entrées, well, they were huge. And tasty. Huge and tasty.

Andy's sausage wasn't exactly what I would call spicy, but rather well spiced. Flavorful, juicy, and without that overpowering fennel taste that so many Italian sausages bang their chests with. If Italian sausages had chests. 

The sauce that accompanied Andy's sausages (2) was equally flavorful, but never heavy handed. There was a little hint of spice there, too, and over the mostaccioli it made for nice traditional meal.

Lauren's mostaccioli with meat and mushroom sauce was delicious, with a rich, weighty meat sauce (more meat than sauce, really), and well-cooked pasta.

My manicotti was divine, stuffed with ricotta cheese and herbs. The manicotti (2) were slathered in meat sauce which served quite well as a dip for my garlic-butter boat-anchor. The whole ordeal was topped with tons of cheese and then put under the salamander to melt the cheese. My only gripe, if any, was that I had more sauce than pasta on my plate... would have loved just one more manicotti.

Our dinners were topped off with small dishes of spumoni ice cream:

Which, despite the fact we were completely and utterly stuffed, slid down just fine, and was a perfect cap to a huge, delicious, down-home Italian meal.

Sure, it's not Victoria's. There are no insane concoctions of twenty meats, cheeses, and asparagus. You will not find poached salmon on the menu. But that's okay.

Because Capri represents an old-school approach: a little restaurant, family-run and family-oriented, that does a few things, simply and well. And there's something deeply comforting about a good plate of pasta and red sauce, no matter what form they take. I'm confident everyone has a fond memory from childhood involving this perennial favorite, as I know I do. It's simple. It's insanely tasty. It drips with love (and garlic butter), and it makes for some awesome leftovers.

Sure, the offerings aren't highbrow. But we loved Capri just the same, and can't wait to go back again.

Report Card:
Atmosphere: B-
The interior of Capri certainly isn't anything to write home about. Music, laughter, dishes clanking, and dated wood panelling and light fixtures. Reminds me of my grandparent's house. But in a good way!

Prices: A-
Dinners were, for the most part, in the $12-$15 range. And you get a lot of food for that money.

Service: A
Our waitress was extremely friendly and helpful. I always appreciate honesty when recommending dishes, as well -- so extra points for letting us know about the star dishes!

The Food: B+
Good, wholesome, quality, stick-to-your-ribs Italian food. Nothing you couldn't make at home, but nothing would taste quite as good at home, either. Come for the pizza or pasta, stay because the loaf of garlic bread has completely incapacitated you.


The Details:

Capri Pizza & Spaghetti
(414) 543-5510
8340 W. Beloit Rd.
West Allis, WI 53219

Online menu and pricing available here (WARNING! Prices and offerings may be out of date!).

Tandoor: Indian Dining Bliss...

Waxing poetic about the symphonic wonderment that is Indian Cuisine is sort of like writing a love song: it's all been done before. Ask any foodie about their opinions on Indian food, and they'll promptly melt into a puddle of mewling goo, expounding the virtues of the spicing, regaling in the perfectly cooked meats, rich gravies, and lavish rice. Oh, we all love Indian food. But I'll let you in on a little secret: if you want the most perfectly food-gasmic Indian experience possible, you're going to have to make a field trip over to Tandoor, in good old West Allis.

I think it probably shows a bit of bias that I haven't really even written a word about the food itself, and I'm already calling Tandoor the best destination for Indian food in the city, if not the state. But the fact of the matter is, I've dined at almost every Indian restaurant in every major metropolitan area in Wisconsin, and I can honestly say that Tandoor has delivered the goods, time and time again, always leaving me immensely full and awed at their culinary abilities. That said, let's talk Indian food for a moment, shall we?

Tandoor immediately greets you with a warm, comforting blanket of spiced air the second you open the door. There's ginger, coriander, cumin, garlic... the smell is heavenly, and sets the stage for what's ahead. The restaurant itself is a bit odd, consisting of a bar side (which, to be honest, I don't think I've ever seen anyone sitting at), and a dining room side. It's positioned at one end of a row of businesses on Highway 100, just about a block north of Greenfield avenue. The interior is spartan, with some traditional tapestries hanging on the walls, simple tables and chairs, and just a little Asha Bhosle piped into the dining room, to never let you forget how close Bollywood is to taking over the world.
The restaurant is always clean, well lit, and well attended, but I've never had to wait for a table. During the week, Tandoor has an exceptional lunch buffet, and the dinner menu offers all of those options and more.

You may notice that the interior of Tandoor is a bit, well, homely... you'd be correct in your assessment. And as far as I'm concerned, that's okay. Actually, more than okay. I would venture to say that the combination of humble space and extraordinary food is what makes Tandoor such a find: this place is all about the food. No pretense, no out-of-body decorating experience... just absolutely breathtaking food. Tandoor is one of the few restaurants in my short list of favorite places that has no "environment" column, just because I think it's sort of irrelevant: you go for the food, not the décor.

Tandoor is, of course, named for the Indian clay oven used for a number of dishes. Tandoori chicken, which is probably the most well-known of these, is a perennial favorite on the menu. While none of the Eating Milwaukee staff ordered it on our visit, we've all had it before, and it certainly is worth the praise and reputation which follows it. Tender and lightly spiced, with that nuclear-red color so traditional, it's the perfect solution to both boring American barbecued chicken in the Summer months, and pale and bland baked chicken in the Winter. But, I digress: as much as I love a good hunk of yard bird seared in a rocket-hot clay oven, there are other, less pedestrian treats to behold. Let us then progress to the run-down, shall we?

You should be aware that when you are seated, regardless of your dining choices, you'll be treated to a plate of Papadum: and a triumvirate of chutneys... mint, tamarind, and onion:

There are certain things you have to do when visiting Tandoor. One of them is order appetizers. Tandoor's appetizer offerings are not only expansive, but genuinely interesting, bypassing so many of the "filler" appetizers we're all used to. All types of Pakoras (fritters), breads, soups, and superb Samosas adorn the offerings. We ordered four deep-fried treats:

Shrimp Pakora

Chicken Pakora



Paneer Pakora



And Samosas



The chicken pakoras are always a personal favorite. Loving referred to amongst the staff as "Indian Chicken Strips," the pakoras consist of chicken thigh meat, spiced and breaded in a chickpea batter, and fried to GBD perfection. The shimp and paneer (a home-made, fresh farmer's-type cheese) are given similar treatment. The batter on each gets super-extra crispy, and has a wonderful spice and saltiness to it -- not too strong, not too bland, but balanced in a way that is so typical in Indian cuisine. The samosas were the stars, however, with a crumbly, crispy pastry shell, and smooth, spicy filling consisting of potatoes and peas. Lauren, not being a potato fan, was a bit leery. However, upon continuous egging on from the rest of the staff, she finally caved, and quickly exclaimed, "You can't even tell it's potato!"

One of the things that always amazes me about Indian cooking is how a basic stable of spices can be re-combined in so many different ways, yielding different results each time. Most of the dishes that form the foundation of Indian cuisine use the same basic spices, yet when combined in different proportions, sometimes omitting one, sometimes the other, different dishes can take on completely unique personalities. Taking advantage of this, many Indian dishes spawn from a number of basic sauces (something like French Mother Sauces). Regardless of whether Tandoor uses this strategy in their kitchen, I can say with all confidence that each and every item on their menu has such a specific and unique identity, they all taste as though they have been made individually, specifically to order. I like that.

We each ordered a different curry, with the break down as follows:

Joe: Chicken Shaahi Korma



Lauren: Chicken Makhani (Butter Chicken)



Andy: Garlic Chicken and Shrimp



My Chicken Shaahi Korma was beyond reproach. A smooth, creamy gravy, filled to the brim with plump, sweet golden raisins, and spiked with half cashews, it was both sweet, salty, and incredibly well spiced. The chicken chunks were tender, big, and plentiful. Combined with the large amounts of Basmati rice served with dinner, and the copious amount of fresh-baked garlic nan, the effect was amazing. Andy's Garlic Shrimp and Chicken was awe-inspiring, with a gravy so garlic-heavy it was almost too strong. Please note the operative word there: almost. For those who love garlic (me), this was just at the nexus of strength and flavor. For those who abhor garlic, well, good luck finding Indian food without it. Having had the garlic shrimp and chicken before, I was familiar with the basic flavor. However, Andy ordered his at a Medium hotness level, as opposed to my typical wussified Mild heat, or the iron-tongued Hot heat (sorry, I had to use red text somewhere in here). With the dish at medium heat, flavors seemed brighter, more pronounced. The garlic seemed less heavy, less oppressive, and had a pleasant heat augmented with the chili flavor.

Lauren's Chicken Makhani was typically delicious, with a rich, thick gravy heavy with tomato, garlic, ginger, cream, and butter, with a sweet set of spices that immediately made me think clove, cinnamon, and cardamom. The chicken tikka in her dish were tiny, tender cubes that were the perfect compliment to the delicate sauce.

There isn't much else to say that may expound the virtue of Tandoor, other than to say that every time we've visited (often) in the last seven years, we've been wowed, and honored. We always find ourselves thanking the accommodating staff, over and over, and from my point of view, it's because I feel sort of privileged to be able to eat with them. It feels like you're welcomed into their world, seated at the kitchen table of their home, and served their dinner, as opposed to going to some mock-Indian theme park that specializes in Americanized food that bears little to no resemblance to actual authentic cooking. It's a treat, and albeit one that cannot be over-used: I think part of the wonderment of Indian cooking is the fact that I can't, no matter how hard I try, re-create it at home.

I love Tandoor, always have, and always will. The wait staff is inviting and fun, very attentive and engaging. The menu is immense and comprehensive, and the food... well, the food will leave you smiling in such a way that is normally reserved for more, ahem, adult activities. Visit soon, and visit often, as any of the Eating Milwaukee staff will tell you.

Report Card:
Atmosphere: B
Is this really important when you consider the food? I mean, you've got nice linen napkins, Asha Bhosle, and the smell of a thousand spices in the air. What more do you need?

Prices: A-
Certainly fair, although not the least expensive I've seen. When your food arrives, give in to the panic that you aren't getting a whole lot in that little metal bowl. Dump some curry on a pile of rice, and then tell me you aren't going to have enough to be full... especially as you pack your left-overs in a to-go box. A little goes a long way, and portion sizes are plenty big. Most entrées fall into the $9-$14 range.

Service: A+
Fun, smiling, and pleasant. And oh, do they make sure your water glass is full!

The Food: A+(++++)
Exceptional in every way. Order anything you want, you'll be happy. No heap of praise will ever explain how much I love Tandoor, you're just going to have to experience it yourself.

The Details:

Tandoor Restaurant
(414) 777-1600
1117 S. 108th St.
West Allis, WI 53214

Online menu (danger! out of date prices and offerings!) available here.