'Ooh, they have baked clams! Let's get those." This from my wife as we were perusing the menu the first time we dined at Mambo Italiano. I had seen the baked clams on the menu, too, but I was hoping she wouldn't notice them. In my experience, baked clams in Italian restaurants are invariably overcooked and overbreaded. I had planned to order the fried calamari, which I find to be a more reliable indicator of a kitchen's capabilities. And because Mambo Italiano specializes in family-size portions intended for two or more (though individual entree portions are also available), I figured we'd share.
But the warm, pillowy triangles of house-baked bread the waiter brought to the table had put me in a good mood, which was further mellowed by a glass of the house red: a sweetish "homemade style" Opici Barberone made in California by friends of the owners, garnished with a slice of peach. Not a wine snob's choice, admittedly, but it struck a rustically charming note that hit the spot. Besides, I thought, my wife is always such a good sport about letting me tell her what to order when I'm reviewing a restaurant. What the heck, let's give the clams a try.
Am I ever glad we did. Fat and succulent under a dusting of bread crumbs and chopped parsley, the baked clams were superb. A spoon, thoughtfully provided for getting every last drop of the garlicky elixir of white wine and clam liquor, was icing on the cake.
My expectations, up to this point cautiously optimistic, rose considerably. By and large, those expectations were met.
Eggplant rollatini - ribbons of eggplant, lightly breaded and fried, then wrapped around a ricotta filling and baked under a blanket of red sauce and mozzarella - is another fine way to start your meal. If you're torn between the rollatini and the baked clams, the antipasti platter neatly solves the dilemma with shareable portions of both, along with stuffed mushrooms that are pretty tasty in their own right.
True to Italian-American tradition, the red sauce is made from an old family recipe, and it's the pride of its maker. Justifiably so. Bella Carmella, who owns the restaurant with her husband, Ron Mancuso (she does the cooking while he sees to the guests in the dining room with easygoing charm), weaves the sauce throughout the menu like a recurring motif in Italian opera. Its bright, garlic-accented marinara melody sings a cappella in a simple plate of al dente spaghetti. It harmonizes with other flavors and textures in other dishes, from eggplant rollatini to veal parmesan.
In rigatoni bolognese - and in an equally toothsome variation that substitutes rigatoni stuffed with an herbed ricotta filling that's sometimes offered as a nightly special - the red sauce is lavishly enriched with the beefy bass notes of ground sirloin. In a plate of pasta with house-made meatballs, it's a classic backup chorus. And it's modulated into a pizza sauce on a more-than-respectable rendition of a New York-style pie.
For those not in the mood for red sauce, options range from made-to-order fettuccine Alfredo to variations on the veal theme. The cutlets were tender in the veal Marsala I sampled, and the sauce was tasty enough, though there was little, if any, evidence of its namesake wine. Fried calamari, which I finally got around to trying on two subsequent visits, were a little overcooked the first time, perfect the second. Such inconsistencies are infrequent, though, and the only serious miscue I encountered was overcooked shrimp in an order of shrimp scampi.
I can recommend Carmella's homemade tiramisu without reservation. And her Italian style cheesecake, made with ricotta and a whisper of orange zest, is splendid.
Like so many restaurants of its genre, Mambo Italiano manages to be at once casually romantic and family-friendly. The combination clearly suits Apex just fine, as the place has been busy every night I've visited (including a Sunday, a notoriously slow night for restaurants). And on Saturday nights, when perennially popular local crooner Carmine Stabile strolls about the room, reservations are practically a must.
For some, the highlight of the evening comes around 8:30 or 9 p.m., when Carmella, a professional singer in a former life, steps out of the kitchen and serves up a Patsy Cline tune. Couples get up to dance, and sometimes people even sing along. All the while, I've got a catchy little tune of my own in my head, and I'm pretty sure my wife does, too. It goes something like this: "Ooh, they have baked clams! Let's get some."
