When I asked Gaby (our server Gabriela) what the Italian name “Piccolino” translates to, she didn’t have a clue. She asked Olga Tarango-Jimenez, the restaurant’s co-owner who also seemed at a loss, but shared the restaurant’s very interesting history. When my Kim Googled “Piccolino, she found it translates to “little one” and has such slang alternatives as “teeny weeny.” Talk about a fitting name. I joked with Gaby that if she ever called her diminutive in stature boss “teeny weeny” she’d probably find out her boss has a giant temper.
Just how small is Piccolino? Before its transmogrification into one of Santa Fe’s most popular Italian restaurants, its Liliputian digs housed a Church’s chicken and before that a gas station. Piccolino is situated off the beaten just a few blocks north of heavily trafficked Cerrillos and a hair or two east of Siler. Square footage not withstanding, Piccolino optimizes its space while still managing to provide better than personal space proximity. Somehow it looks a whole lot larger when you marvel at all the “Best of Santa Fe” awards accorded by readers of The Santa Fe Reporter. All but one of those certificates designate Piccolino as Santa Fe’s best Italian. The sole detractor places it in the “Top 3” category.
When I joked with Gaby about using the term Piccolino to describe her boss, I was only partially kidding. Olga is easily the shortest person in the kitchen, but she’s got a formidable presence. She commands the room like a tenured professor–or more accurately like the doting mom she is to her much taller sons who also work the kitchen. Unlike the oft clamorous din you might stereotype with Italian kitchens, you’re more likely to hear Spanish spoken than English…and certainly much more than Italian. That’s because Olga and her family are from Chihuahua, Mexico.
When she emigrated to Los Angeles, Olga took a rather ladder-climbing route to restaurant ownership. That route began with housekeeping for the owner of an Italian restaurant who taught Olga English. Eventually Olga became a cashier at one of her benefactor’s restaurants. From cashier, she transitioned to serving, delivery, catering and restaurant management. While on vacation to Santa Fe, she espied a restaurant for rent. Along with her extended family, all of whom had cut their teeth in Italian restaurants, they took a leap of faith and signed a lease.
Their inaugural restaurant would be called Piccolino, the name of a restaurant in which some family members worked in Los Angeles. Because the couple who had owned the restaurant divorced and shuttered their restaurant, Olga and her family decided to name their venture after that restaurant. Much more adept and familiar with preparing restaurant quality Italian food than they were with preparing the cuisine of their Mexican homeland, they patterned Piccolino after its Los Angeles namesake. That includes a compendium-like New Jersey style Italian menu and black-and-white tablecloths.
Peruse that menu and you won’t find a fusion of Italian and Mexican (or New Mexican) dishes. Other than exactly a handful of dishes, green chile doesn’t have a huge influence on the menu. And what a menu it is! It’s got ten salads and eight appetizers to get you started though you just might see another salad or starter on the daily specials menu. By category you’ll find pasta, veal, calzones, chicken, soup, pizzas, baked dishes, ravioli, sandwiches, seafood, kids menu and toppings. Italian restaurants thrice the size don’t attempt such an ambitious menu. Gaby visited our table four times before we were ready to place our order.
More staggering than the sheer volume of dishes on the menu is the realization that everything is fresh: sauces are prepared every morning, vegetables are freshly cut, ravioli is made in-house as is the focaccia and most of the desserts. Characteristic of all great Italian red sauces, the marinara is even better the following day (should you manage to have leftovers). Perfect for sopping up those superb sauces is the foccacia bread. A basketful of pesto-studded focaccia bread and a plate of marinara sauce are ferried to your table. Only at Joe’s Pasta House in Rio Rancho will you find such a delightful bread and sauce pairing. The foccacia is moist and absolutely delicious. The pesto packs a nice herbaceous touch.
One of specials of the day during our inaugural visit was a goat cheese and beets salad (mixed greens, tomatoes, cucumbers, red and golden beets, walnut, goat cheese). If beets aren’t your thing, the menu includes a goat cheese salad sans beets. The salad brought to mind John Keats poem “Fill For Me a Brimming Bowl.” Our bowl was indeed brimming–finally a salad large enough to share. Nutritionists will tell you the red beet contains betacyanins pigments; the golden beets contain betaxanthins (both antioxidants and anti-inflammatory agents). Restaurant critics will note the barely discernible differences in flavor. While both can be described as “earthy,” golden beets are just slightly sweeter, milder and less earthy. We love them both as we did the entire salad and its varied ingredients.
Though I’ve known about Piccolino for years, it took a recommendation from my sister Dolores for us to make the 50-minute jaunt to Santa Fe. A pretty fantasic cook herself, my little sister has a good palate and recognizes great food. While researching Piccolino in advance of our visit, a photo of a seafood cannelloni special caught my eye. Alas, that special wasn’t on the menu during our visit. The restaurant’s signature canneloni (filled with ground beef, spinach, carrots, and ricotta, and topped with marinara and mozzarella) was. Ground beef was the dominant ingredient and flavor. Perhaps spoiled by the decadent cheesy, creamy canneloni at Joe’s Pasta House, I didn’t enjoy it quite as much as other canneloni dishes we’ve had. Mind you, it wasn’t bad. It just wasn’t a calorie laden dish of cheese and cream.
Also a lover of leftovers, my Kim ordered a ten-inch sausage and cheese pizza knowing we’d be bringing half of it home–even after giving me a slice. Moreso than on most pizzas we’ve had in New Mexico, the sausage was redolent with fennel. It perfumed the air and delighted our taste buds. Perhaps because it’s a bit thicker than the waifishly thin pizzas in favor today, the ten-inch pizza seemed bigger. With a bready cornicione ((Italian word for the edge or rim of the pizza), easily the thickest part of the pie, this is a pizza most people will love. Sauce and cheese were both generously applied.
Again belying the smallness of the restaurant, Piccolino has a surprisingly robust dessert menu featuring everything from tiramisu to tres leches cake. The latter is my Kim’s favorite. This multi-layered tres leches is pockmarked and porous perhaps so that the three milks which comprise this Mexican standard can ooze out. The top layer of frosting is rather thick and sugary the way my Kim likes it. A generous slice was more than she could finish.
We sometimes think of Santa Fe for its quirkiness and “City Different” qualities. All too often I hear how the state capital has changed, that its citizenry is no longer friendly. That’s certainly not what we experienced at Piccolino where (even without The Dude) we had conversations (and not just about the food) with everyone seated in our proximity. When my Kim complimented an elegant lady on her purple framed glasses, she told us she’d reached the age where she can wear whatever she wants. I then showed off my yellow Sketchers sneakers and told her “I have, too.”
Perhaps the only thing small about Piccolino is its name. Flavors are immense. Hospitality is huge. Portions are gargantuan. Your enjoyment will be, too.
Piccolino Italian Restaurant
2890 Agua Fria Street
Santa Fe, New Mexico
(505) 471-1480
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LATEST VISIT: 4 October 2023
# OF VISITS: 1
RATING: N/R
COST: $$
BEST BET: Cannelloni, Goat Cheese and Beet Salad, Tres Leches Cake, Sausage and Cheese Pizza
REVIEW #1356