In spite of writing about food in Columbus for umpteen million years, the longstanding Spaghetti Warehouse has never been the subject of any personal focus. This is probably because the Warehouse is part of a chain, and chains are seldom the subject of restaurant reviews — unless there is some novel local angle.
But given that the Spaghetti Warehouse has been a culinary hotbed of controversy on the messageboard, that’s local enough to inspire a little tour of the restaurant located just west of Downtown.
There are lots of paths to enter the Spaghetti Warehouse parking lot, the most obvious choice is to drive through the Broad Street entrance. That’s the back of the house, so it means a cruise past the humongous, thoroughly-filled garbage receptacle. It’s not the most promising start, but the front entrance on the other side is inviting enough, and the host was a sincerely lovely fellow. The decor inside is especially endearing for someone who favors the eclectic: barber chairs, shoeshine chairs, and an Estrella’s Prophecy machine, for the win (if only it was operational).
There is an easy way to check out all that the Warehouse has to offer on the menu: score on a couple of sampler platters. The Sicilian Sampler lets you try four appetizers for $10.50, and and the Ultimate Feast for Two puts out seven offerings from the entree menu for $26.50. An order of both samplers might be designed for two people, but that would mean eating until severe discomfort.
But before all that, the house bread: not contemptible. Judging from the critical online reviews, Wonder Bread hot dog buns were expected. In reality, the restaurant uses a white sourdough bread. It’s a little dense, but several steps up from the expectation.
In appetizer land, the picks were Bruschetta, Stuffed Mushrooms (pictured), Mozzarella Fritta and Toasted Ravioli. Skip the first two: boring and the mushrooms themselves had a too-strong flavor. On the other hand, the fried mozzarella slices had an undeniable junk food appeal, with lots of crunchy breading surrounding the goodness of a melted cheese. And the rounds of ravioli, with less breading, were tender and pleasantly filled with plump pockets of ricotta and parmesan.
The giant entree sampler includes soup options. The Beer Chili, although not particularly Italian, is a good choice. It’s homespun with the influence of beer and chili powder both prevailing in a meaty mixture dotted with a few beans. The Italian Wedding Soup, though more theme-appropriate, was not lovable: blame the flavorless broth and weird little rubbery meatballs.
This is all quite a bit of food, but we’re not even at the main event yet. Begin with the Lasagne: it does have the promised fifteen layers of noodles, meat and ricotta. Lots of places scrimp, and make it a tomato-noodle thing, the Warehouse is certainly not guilty of that.
The Chicken Parmesan was the favorite thing on the plate. It was real chicken, flattened and breaded. Again, given the critical reviews, some sort of processed chicken patty was expected. The Ravioli on the sampler platter was a sauced version of the little pockets enjoyed earlier in the appetizers.
Even the Spaghetti was pretty good. The sauce is super-pulpy with lots of tomatoes and a few onions on 70s-styled, well-hydrated spaghetti noodles.
There were meatballs and sausages too. Unlike the weird mini-meatballs in the soup, the entree meatballs have the texture of ground beef and pork. And the sausage? Well, it was fatty and flavorful, which is about what you’d expect from sausage links.
Spaghetti Warehouse is not ever going to be your bag if you’re looking for culinary adventure. That’s just not its niche. All the same, I’d pick it over a Friday’s in a soul-less suburban strip mall, any day of the week. And I might pick it over some local trendy places too, because sometimes being hip is just too exhausting.
The Spaghetti Warehouse can be found at 397 W. Broad Street. For more information, visit www.meatballs.com.