Was it Count Basie or Duke Ellington who asserted, “If it sounds good, it is good”? If you substitute “tastes, looks, feels and smells” for “sounds,” you’ve got universal truth.
We were having that kind of night. We had just left Macy’s fragrance counter (don’t ask) and smelled like a French whorehouse, though we had only sniffed the card the perfume woman held under our noses. We both wore new specs, so our sight was, for the moment, sharper than our sense of smell.
Our dinner at MonteVigna Italian Ristoranté in the Atlantis Casino Resort was about to challenge these and all our other senses. Over a couple of glasses of Atlas Peak Sangiovese ($8.95), which our waiter suggested without hesitation, we lingered over antipasto misto ($8) and buffala mozzarella caprese ($8).
We swirled our big, bulbous red wine glasses and reminisced about hot, humid days in a Tuscan trattoria watching the sweat roll off an ice-cold bottle of San Pellegrino mineral water. The cured meats, olives and oil-cured sun-dried tomatoes at MonteVigna were the real thing.
Our reminiscences circled the globe back to Reno, and Michael told me all about the capicola he used to eat from Tony’s Deli on First Street, long before the Riverside Theater took up residence.
When the minestrone came, we thought it was so good with its unexpected fiery kick that I later sent an e-mail to the Atlantis requesting the recipe.
The table breads, a rolled caramelized onion and fragrant rosemary, were both crusty and chewy.
The menu offers paste, pesci or carne for entrées. We chose scaloppini di vitello ai carciofini ($19) and pollo al marsala ($18). We were pleased that the servings were normal, not gargantuan nor miniscule.
The veal medallions were sautéed with sliced artichoke hearts, garlic, fresh herbs and lemon juice. Molto squisito.
The chicken breast was cooked in and flavored with marsala, a multi-purpose cooking wine named for a province in Western Sicily.
We lingered awhile before ordering decaf and dessert. Our two servers, Will and Amir, were taking such good care of us we didn’t want the meal to end. Amir asked if we minded if he made a fresh pot of coffee. We were thankful he didn’t just slosh out two cups of coffee that had been sitting in a pot all afternoon. When Will brought over the dessert platter, the casada ($6) caught my eye and the chocolate torte ($6) appealed to Michael.
I’d never heard of casada before, but when cake with layers of raspberry and pistachio gelato was served, I knew I’d made the right choice. Both desserts had a nice dollop of real, heavy whipped cream with a sprig of mint and fresh raspberry garnish.
The torte was no ordinary dessert. It was a stroke of genius. Four inches in diameter, two and a half inches tall and loaded with mouth-pleasing sugar and fat. Beneath a substantial shell of chocolate, we discovered a crunchy layer of baked meringue, then a layer of rich, creamy chocolate mousse surrounding a core of custard. Garnished with that heavy whipping cream, a few raspberries and a spring of mint.
The bust of Titus Andronicus looked on and Frank Sinatra crooned overhead. And we felt like our half-circle booth was a mad teacup and we were spinning all by ourselves in our own private world of sensory delight.