via vai trattoria

THe italian way

Have you ever noticed how truly happy people are while gathered around a table for dinner? A joyous family celebrating a birthday; a sweet couple smiling at each other from above their menus; a rowdy bunch of co-workers shaking off the workweek stresses—these are the common mealtime scenarios in which people seem to be completely in love with the company they’re with.

I’m fairly sure I’ve figured out this phenomenon of eternally blissful table-mates. One might be tempted to say it has all to do with quality of the food or the carefully selected dinner specials.

Others might want to credit the venue’s ambiance. Although diners do appreciate these noteworthy factors, I’m convinced that their hearts are beaming with joy because they’re getting to reconnect with their people. Okay, and the basket of warm fresh bread definitely doesn’t hurt.

This brings me to my chilly Friday night dinner excursion with three friends, all gathered around a table at Montecito’s gem of an Italian eatery, Via Vai. We’re just settling in—giving our drink orders, peeling off our coats and excitedly diving into conversation—when the owner, Pietro Bernardi, walks up to our table to greet us with a “Buonasera.”

If we were a little unsure of the restaurant’s heritage, this affirmed it. In his thick Italian accent, Pietro goes on to recommend, with passion I might add, a variety of dishes. Penne Rigate con Salsiccia e Cipolla. Orecchiette alla Tirolese. Pizza Napoletana con Mozzarella Fresca e Peperoni. It’s in this moment, as he’s vividly describing the intricacies of the calamari sauté that I’m reminded of just how beautiful the Italian way is. Not only do they treasure gathering around the table to eat, but they’ve perfected the meal, drinks and dessert to follow. It’s simple: they love the food, they love the company, they love life.

I’m no stranger to this mentality of la dolce vita. My mother’s side is warm, loud, and 100% Italian—tomato sauce practically running through their veins. Ever since I can remember, they’ve hosted four-hour dinners and explained to me the importance of good quality salami and cookie assortments. Trust me, I have the chubby toddler pictures to prove it.

The four of us finally agree on the Calamari alla Livornese and Pizza Siciliana, and Pietro smiles to applaud our choices. Before we know it, we’re dipping bread into rich olive oil and volunteering stories of our travels abroad—Rome, Paris, Florence, and Israel—practically sighing with wanderlust. We reach for more bread and additional sips of our I Sodi Del Paretaio Chianti.

The appetizers, as if to accompany our daydreaming, arrive in no time. The pizza, a crispy thin-crust, is topped with sausage, capers and hot gooey cheese, the kind that holds on for dear life as you try to steal a slice from the rest of the pie. The calamari dish is sophisticated, sweetened by the fresh basil in the marinara sauce and topped with grilled polenta—an Italian staple.

Our waiter, Luiz Felippe, greets us with a charming toothy grin and an authentic eagerness to discover our selections per Primi e Secondi. Craving a little guidance, we ask Luiz for his top three choices, meals that would provide the perfect snapshot of Via Vai cuisine. He nods and then pauses in deep thought. He seems to be crafting the perfect answer—perhaps a mental hierarchy ranking each exquisite entrée appropriately. He reveals his favorites in a rich Italian accent. But then, he smiles to add another. And another. “Wait, you must try this.” “Oh and this is worth a taste, too.” We smile to ourselves. “Oh! But do you know what is really good?” he adds. We can no longer hold back our laughs, realizing that he might unintentionally guide us through the entire kitchen if we didn’t stop him. Clearly his passion for the menu is just as bona fide as the food we’re anxiously awaiting.

We collectively order some of Via Vai’s finest: the Spaghetti al Coccio con Frutti di Mare and Capellini con Pomodoro Fresco, among others. We continue to unravel details of our European adventures, and I admire the hustle and bustle of the restaurant as if it were my own family’s full kitchen. The phone appears to be ringing steadily with take- out orders, and the lively group next to us accommodates their late-comers by squeezing in additional seating.

I’m presented with my Spaghetti al Coccio con Frutti di Mare, and it’s transfixing. Steam is seeping through the top of a pot-pie-like bowl, and beneath it, a fresh tomato broth awaits, filled with spaghetti and a nautical sampling of salmon, shrimp and mussels. And did I mention that it’s completely encapsulated in a pizza dough crust? That’s amore. My friends appear to be just as delighted with their choices, and in no time, we’re passing around helpings of each dish. I dip my fork into the angel hair pasta and twist, recalling the careful lessons my Grandpa Guiseppe gave me on the proper pasta- spoon-twirling technique.

We polish off our dinner with decadent dolci like hazelnut gelato, panna cotta and Bigné al Cioccolato. Mint leaves, cookie straws and oozy dark chocolate ganache adorn our treats, and we pass them around until they’re a shared experience. Pietro returns to insist that we try the Cantucci di Prato con Vin Santo, the almond dipping cookies with aged Trebbiano wine before calling it a night. In no time, we’re nibbling on biscotti and asking Pietro of his hometown. He’s from Asolo, Italy, he explains, a beautiful town where it’s customary to hop from one house to the next, breaking bread and sharing life, before heading out to do it all over again. He hopes to carry on this tradition, he explains, at Via Vai — meaning “coming and going”— a place where family and friends can enjoy the goodness of life and, of course, the divinity of food. My Italian pride soars.

And just like that, our evening is complete with wine, biscotti and an anecdote to hold onto. We thank Pietro and Luiz for their hospitality and wave to the remaining wait staff with our full stomachs and overflowing hearts. It looks as though we’ve proved my point; we’re just another case of completely content people huddled around a dinner table, mimicking the Italian way. And although we promise ourselves to return to Italy sooner than later, we know that Via Vai is always there—welcoming us with open arms and all the pizza dough- covered-pasta-soup concoctions we could ever desire.*