Mangia Macaroni
Amanda Duckworth (12-1)
Photographed by Theo Wyss-Flamm (12-4)
The walls are covered with pasta. Lots of it. Big bags of twirled tagliatelle, small bags of spun spaghetti, medium bags of lasagna and bowties and penne. They’re piled behind refrigerator glass and perched upon bookshelves. In the back, men in chef coats chop sausage on steel countertops and the steep smell of mozzarella wafts through the air. I realize that I’m starving.
Squeezed between Cityview and Stockyard in the old Heffe Tacos building, “Mangia Macaroni” is the newest addition to the string of Spring Garden restaurants just a block away from Masterman. Its name can be traced back to the 18th century, when street beggars ate pasta by the fistful in Lazzaroni, Italy. Today, the restaurant is “a nod to the ‘Pasta Eaters’ who paved the way for Italian cuisine as we know it.”
“Hi guys! How are you?”
Behind the counter, a sturdy woman sporting large, dangly earrings and a cable-knit sweater greets my friend and I with a smile. “Are you eating in or picking up?”
“Eating in,” we respond.
“Awesome! We love that.”
The menu offers eleven different pasta entrees and an option to make your own. We order two dishes—the Caprese Panini ($6.50) and Penne Ala Vodka ($11)—before making our way upstairs to sit down.
The dining room is bright and cozy. Red and white checkered linens cover every table, firelights are crammed into mason jars on the wall, and to our left, a group of talkative men jovially make their way through large bowls of spaghetti. “I’m ready to eat.”
Our food arrives quickly. The portions of both dishes are large enough for two people to share (or one super hungry person to eat alone). The pasta is accompanied with a salad and a loaf of bread (both slightly cold, both slightly bland). At first, we’re delighted. It’s a feast—and far better than the cereal we were planning to pour ourselves at home. We pick up our forks to eat.
“But wait,” I say mid-chew, “This cost us about as much as a Honeygrow salad. Or THREE slices of Cityview pizza” And it was true. Including the tip, we’d each spent about $10—about as much as a cheap box of sushi or an expensive Cobb salad. “Is it equally delicious?”
We ponder this question for a few moments. Both dishes are good (can you go wrong with penne and a panini?), but the sandwich isn’t warm and the pasta is, well, pasta. Is it worth it to pay such a hefty price for an after-school snack?
It’s up to you to decide, Masterman.