Sabatini Ristorante, 25 King Street, Newcastle

Apr 24 2009 by Geoff Laws, The Journal

portrait: sabatini

LAST summer I tried an Italian taster course, but declined to sign up for the year-long one. Belladonna did and now comes home each Wednesday evening, full of her latest phrases, which she insists on trying out on me.

Sadly, she thinks all Italians speak fast and loud so I get a full volume performance, the experience being akin to an incomprehensible ear bashing. The latest phrase was the song, Happy birthday or Tanti Auguri, which had been sung to one classmate, Maureen, who had inadvertently disclosed the information and received a no-doubt tuneless cacophony for her pains.

Later that week, my companion did a repeat performance, forcibly serenading one of her horse-riding posse, Pam, with the same rendition. I’m sure it made Pam’s day!

On our way to Sabatini, she was full of the joys of evening class because this was her opportunity to practise on the waiters. The place was already busy when we arrived and the staff were buzzing to and fro at top speed. Wafer-thin pizzas and mounds of steaming saucy pasta were being transported through the dining room with towering black pepper mills and bowls of grated Parmesan in hot pursuit.

Our meal was ordered and the wine chosen followed by a tentative grazie from across the table.

Starters swiftly arrived and we tucked in, she to her grilled mixed vegetables and me to my Insalata tiepida del contadino. My dish sounded wonderful but the bed of salad supporting crispy pancetta and mushrooms with a light mustard dressing was disappointing. The mix of ordinary mushrooms and bacon was not helped by a small bowl of Marie-Rose sauce that had a weary countenance and a skin reminiscent of tired school custard.

The grilled vegetables looked better but three slices of cold grilled courgette, aubergine and red onion wedges, plus julienne carrot and capsicum, all liberally doused with oil does not warrant a price tag of £7.95. If the seasoning had been inspired or there had even been a little bread to help the oily dressing it would have helped, but sadly both were missing.

My crestfallen companion was less enthusiastic now about engaging with the staff and the wine, a surprisingly sweet Orvieto, didn’t help much. People at a nearby table arrived with one of those helium balloons and for one dreadful moment I feared a birthday celebration and we all know what that means.

Her eyes lit up at her chance to shine, until she saw the balloon’s legend was ‘congratulations’ and no Tanti Auguri were needed. Our main courses brightened things up considerably with a rather good dish of lemon sole fillet glazed with brandy, lobster and crayfish sauce.