Martorano's famous meatballs are served here too — with a whorl of fantastically light ricotta cheese ($14) or with a "South Philly salad" for an extra $6. I won't even begin to parse whether these meatballs are the best ever; that's too subjective an argument. I can say they're fine examples of the form, moist and dense with the kind of meaty gravy that sends the otherwise-boring salad of romaine hearts to greater heights. You almost forget that you're paying $20 for a meatball and a bit of greens.
From the looks of things, the food satisfied even Clinton Portis' bodyguard, a hulking man sitting at a table all his own. Every so often, we'd sneak a glance in the celebrity athlete's direction, and each time, we caught the dude with his head sunk deeply into a bowl of bucatini with meatballs. "That guy is literally chowing down," said Tara. "I don't think he's looked up all night."
C. Stiles
The food at Martorano's sure satisfies.
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Martorano's Italian-American Kitchen, 5751 Seminole Way, Hollywood. Open for dinner 5 p.m. to midnight Sunday through Thursday and 5 p.m. to 5 a.m. Friday and Saturday. Call 954-584-4450, or
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He didn't need to. All the other diners were too enraptured in their own plates to even think about bugging the star athlete. Most of Martorano's family-style dishes are expensive, but the portions are so big that they could account for at least a few hefty meals (unless you're a celebrity bodyguard). Martorano uses only imported dry pasta cooked to order, a practice that imparts amazing texture into his dishes. A bowl of fusili pollo ($34) sees spicy marinara and long, curly pasta fused into one deep element. Accented by thick slices of breaded chicken cutlets and intensely rendered peppers, the pasta is like a well-executed refrain. Spaghetti carbonara ($25) comes crowned with a single egg yolk set inside its halved shell. Mixed into the thick macaroni full of thick lardons of pancetta, the creamy/salty mixture practically jumps off the plate.
If anything is the star at Martorano's, though, it's the gravy. A boatload of rigatoni ($34) splashed around a pool of the stuff so intensely porky, I wanted to name it and show it off at the state fair. Mike, our resident gravy aficionado, practically fell over himself with one taste of the stuff. Since that night, he has text-messaged me constantly to extoll the intensely tender pork, the sunny sauce, and smooth dab of ricotta cheese floating atop it all like an island. He went on so long, I thought he was going to write a book about it.
Martorano already has. His mug, plastered over just about every free inch of space in the restaurant, is pretty darned pervasive. But this is one instance in which the bravado and glittery ambiance actually fits. There's no denying his food is wondrous, even if you do have to keep your tongue firmly planted in your cheek while chewing the pasta. In the end, Martorano made me a believer. It's a good thing that face is looking down over the Hard Rock after all.
