November 8, 2001
LAROSA
Don't have an Italian grandmother? Head to LaRosa


By MERIDITH FORD
Journal Restaurant Reviewer

Sometimes it takes me a while to get around to things. Getting a skirt hemmed. Painting the living room. Trying a new restaurant that I've heard from several readers is very good.

I finally got around to the restaurant.

I got around to trying LaRosa, an unpretentious spot in Rumford that's the type of place where the rich, intoxicating smell of garlic hits you smack in the face the minute you walk through the door.

A place that serves salad dressing in tiny plastic cups on the side of the salad bowl, and that has at least twice as many choices of dressings as specials for the evening. The type of restaurant where the waiters and waitresses all wear the black-and-white garb that goes under a tuxedo jacket -- without the jacket.

It's the type of place where you should never wear your favorite white cotton sweater, because you will invariably drip red sauce all over it and ruin it. Of course, you probably won't notice until later in the evening, long after a spot of soda water might have helped, because you'll be too busy eating.

The food at LaRosa is worth far more than any white cotton sweater. If I ever get that Italian grandmother I've been pining for, this is the kind of food I imagine her cooking for me: Rich red sauces; hearty pasta dishes oozing with stringy cheese; fresh, warm bread. Comfort food in mega doses.

There were lots of regulars when I was there; the wait staff recognized the couples to the left and right of me. Families were there, and a large party of women had a table in the center of the dining room.

It gave me the feeling of being in someone's home rather than a restaurant. Throughout my meal I watched as self-trained chef-owner Mike Normandin cooked from the open kitchen -- sauteeing, drizzling, sprinkling dabs of this into pans of that.

Plump mussels

A bowlful of fresh mussels swimming in a sumptuous sauce of tomatoes, garlic and onions was the first culprit in dotting my sweater with red. The broth was rich and thick with the tangy flavor of the melding of tomatoes and onions -- and hordes of plump mussels.

Together with warm bread, this is a perfect meal -- dipping the bread in rich tomato broth (here's where the drips come in), popping a mussel in your mouth, taking a sip of red wine. This should be a rite of passage into Western culture.

A plate of fresh mozzarella, sliced thick and blanketed with the mellow, pimento-like flavor of red and yellow peppers, served as another appetizer -- a special for the evening. It's hard to admit that something so bountiful and luscious could take second chair, but as good as this dish was, it paled in comparison to the mussels.

A plate of lasagna the size of your head, on the other hand, was a fierce competitor. Here, finally, a perfect lasagna: A rich, sweet tomato sauce (the kind that tastes as if it's been cooking all day) layered with tender pasta amidst gobs and gobs of ooey-gooey cheese (the kind that strings from plate, to fork, to mouth . . . to sweater).

There are many fish dishes to choose from, and I was tempted by more than one -- baby clams sauteed in olive oil, garlic and white wine; shrimp in cream sauce over pasta. But ultimately I veered from the sea and chose a chicken dish.

Tender breast of chicken, thin slices of portobellos, the woodsy flavor of toasted pine nuts, rich sun-dried tomatoes -- all were served over linguine. The combination of ingredients gave this dish a rustic, ripe flavor, and the sauce was reminiscent of a really good Bolognese.

Yummy-smooth, yummy-sweet

With all this homemade goodness, I was dying to taste dessert and was a little disappointed to find that they are bought from a purveyor, not made in house. But I ordered a creamy peanut butter number, a slice of pie-cake (the line gets crossed these days) with a yummy-smooth, yummy-sweet filling and chunks of chocolate in a chocolate-cookie crust.

Appetizers are $2.95 to $9.95; entrees -- from fish, to veal, to pasta -- are $13.95 to $24.95. There is a moderate wine list of Italian and Californian selections, with bottles from $15 to $49.

I shouldn't have waited so long to get around to trying LaRosa. But now that I have, my fear is that I live close enough to frequent it, which could be dangerous -- for my figure and my white cotton sweaters.

LaRosa, 335 Newport Ave., East Providence. 431-5252. Casual. Reservations accepted. Small smoking section. Wheelchair accessible. Open Tue-Thu 4 to 9 p.m., Fri-Sat 4 to 10 p.m. V, MC, AM, DIS, DC, CB. ET. Ample parking. Highchairs available. $$.