
'Rosine's Rules'
The Herald's Go! Magazine, January 8, 2004
Fresh Food, Friendly Service and No One Ever Leaves Hungry
How many of today's "family" restaurants actually have a real family behind the counter? At Rosine's in Old Monterey, there's even a real Rosine, the matriarch of the Culcasi family, who has been cooking and baking up local favorites for more than two decades.
But there was a time everyone thought this family was just half-baked. The year was 1985. After five years of owning a nice little restaurant near the mall, with 13 employees and a loyal following, the family pulled up stakes and moved (collective gasp!) - downtown.
"Everyone thought we were crazy,' said Jim Culcasi Jr., who has worked in the family business since he was old enough to hold his own rolling pin. 'Where would people park? How would we be able to handle a bigger place?"
Perfectly, as it turned out. From 13 employees to 70 today, Rosine's has filled the bellies and ruined the diets of nearly everyone in the county and in turn has become its own cottage industry. A Rosine's cookbook, filled with homespun recipes from the Culcasi family, finds itself under many Christmas trees. And the line running down Alvarado? It isn't for the latest movie. Rosine's, with its American-Italian homemade entrees, soups, colossal salads and eye-popping desserts, continues to pack 'em in.
"What hasn't changed is our commitment to quality ingredients and the idea that no one will ever leave here hungry," said Jim Jr., who has taken over day-to-day operation of Rosine's from his retirement-loving parents (daughter Annette runs the front of the store). "Most of the recipes are my mom's ideas. But I have my own creations. It's all part of the family."
Jim Jr. creates the signature soups (minestrone and clam chowder are the staples) and has taken his mom's love of baking to new heights. If you haven't been by Rosine's to press your nose against the dessert case, you're missing a son's shrine to decadence. Chocolate cake lined with Snickers. Bailey's Irish Cream Cheesecake. Jack Daniel's chocolate decadence cake.
You get the idea. It's real food, no gimmicks... something that may remind you of your own family.
HE SAID
I grew up in the country, so it's no surprise to me that people actually eat this way. Mounds of meafloaf. Homemade lasagna. Fresh turkey and gravy over slices of bread. Racks of ribs from what appears to be a brontosaurus. Cakes that resemble a half-scale model of the Pentagon.
You feel guilty, and you want to ship the leftovers (and there are always leftovers) to the local food bank. But once you settle in and find that last belt hole, there's a comfort here that induces long pauses and heavy sighs.
It's clear they don't follow the rules in the kitchen. No formulaic recipes. The pork chops you have Tuesday may be a bit different on Wednesday. And thats the charm of the place. That, and the service, which is ultra-friendly, knowledgeable and fast -- I couldn't take more than two sips from my iced tea before someone swooped in almost invisibly to fill it up.
We wanted a kid-friendly appetizer and settled on potato skins ($6.50). A winner. Two melted cheeses, lean chunks of crispy bacon, soft skins and bits of scallions easy to pick off. They convinced our young tablemate that there's more to a potato than the mashed insides lathered in butter.
The expansive menu is divided into steak and seafood, pasta, from the broiler, sandwiches, salads, and dinner specialties. I took our server's recommendation and ordered the salmon pasta special. An elongated filet came broiled and served atop a bed of linguine smothered in a rich pesto cream sauce ($18.95).
Most entrees are served with homemade soup, salad and fresh vegetables (a rarity these days). The appetizer, salad and a nice cup of chunky clam chowder left me a bit full so I didn't finish my entree, but it boxed up nicely.
And the three of us took home a piece of Kit-Kat cake to go ($5.50). Enough said.
There was nothing particularly gourmet here, but the quality of the food is several notches above chain restaurants such as Applebee's. And it's right downtown. Park in the lot on Calle Principal and head down the short alley to Alvarado. Easy. Relax. Wear loose clothing. And a smile.
SHE SAID
Here's the thing: There is nothing delicate about Rosine's.
Take my cobb salad, for example. Nice, crisp romaine leaves lay somewhere literally buried beneath mountains of black olives, chopped tomatoes, white turkey breast hunks, pulverized hardboiled eggs and big chunks of crispy bacon. Not to mention the bleu cheese dressing, which our server recommended for its "lumps and bumps."
"Salad" is pretty much a euphemism for that meal, if you ask me. But who's complaining for $9.25?
I have a friend who occasionally saves up her Weight Watcher's points and comes here expressly to order the homemade potato salad ($2.95 on the Sidelines menu) and a dessert from that glass case whose contents frankly defy description (folk art comes to mind). I mean, there's an Almond Joy cake in there that looks like the head off someone's snowman - only bigger. And a Snicker's pie that calls to mind a giant, well, cowpie... but in a good way ... with, you know, Snicker's. On any given night, you watch people just stepping into the foyer here to gawk at those awesome monstrosities. My son was rendered absolutely speechless when our server invited him to "just pick something out of the case" after dinner. It must have felt akin to having an encounter with Willy Wonka.
Fourteen specialty sandwiches ($7.95 to $9.50) include such comfort selections as Satch's original turkey dip, Philly cheese steak, Kosher klub and Italian meatball. All come with fries, cole slaw, potato salad or green salad. My pint-sized dinner companion (not Mike) raved about his burger, which arrived with everything on the side, just the way he likes it ($7.25).
The utterly cool thing about Rosine's is that you can come here for just about any occasion. A comfortable first date. A kid's birthday (Snicker's pie, for Pete's sake!) An after-the-late-movie debate. You can order a glass of port after your patty melt, if you want. Or a dinner plate-size slab of peanut butter cup cake after your salmon Florentine.
I think our server, that master of understatement, said it best "Everything is just a little bit overblown here."
Carmel residents Mike Hale and Melissa Snyder approach their reviews from a couple's perspective. All visits are made anonymously. Comment at tablefortwo@sbcglobal net.
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