If it wasn’t for the old school Southern Italian dinner, the visit to Wal-Mart, and the 102 F. temperature, it would have been like another day in Berkeley. Oh, forgive us, Bay Area, for shopping at Wal-Mart! We bought some underwear and chicken strips.
Wal-Mart chicken strips
Then we staggered across the parking lot to Barnes & Noble for iced coffee. Thanks to computer networking of the highest caliber, we were able to use our discount card, no problem. I would have sworn I was in the El Cerrito, CA branch. Same color scheme, same author photographs, same wall sconces, same God-awful Godiva boxed candy and teapots on the cafe display shelves, same annoying nondescript world beat pounding in the background. Plenty of Binghamton University students, from the looks of them.
Calamari at Little Venice in Binghamton
During a visit with my dad at his personal three-room inferno later in the day, he suggested we have a “real” Italian dinner. “Real” meaning no skimping on the cheese and being served anything parmigiano on an oval silver platter, for starters. Like at Rutha’s, on Northern Boulevard in Queens, now long gone, but the site of many a biscuit tortoni snarfed down by yours truly. We followed orders and went to Little Venice Restaurant (111 Chenango Street), a Binghamton institution. The street seemed kind of dead but when we went into the place via the back entrance there was a sudden cacophony — the joint was jumping! We were quickly seated and menued in the large rectangular dining room and set about discussing options.
Rigatoni parm at Little Venice in Binghamton
Matt went with rigatoni parm and I with combo (chicken, meatball and sausage) parm. We added fried calamari, which we soon regretted. Not only were there no tentacles, but the rings were all of the same small diameter. I’d like to know what happened to the rest of the squid involved. If you only ate this dish here, you’d never know what a real calamaro looked like, but I guess that’s the point. That and the ability to pour out prepared rings from a large freezer bag, though I have no proof of the latter. The soup and salad were “eh” and we hoped the entrees were better. They were, having plenty of melting mozzarella and a good house sauce. That said, if I ever went back I would have the antipasto I eyed at the next table along with an entree. I do admit to being surprised at how pricey Little Venice is given the economy of the area. Even I don’t like to drop over $17 for a plate of mixed parmigiano.
Combo parm at Little Venice in Binghamton
Quiznos. This was the only time I ever had latter’s grub, and it was not bad. These two items plus a couple drinks set us back $21 and change. After getting up at 3:30 a.m. Cali time and then dealing with a 3-hour delay in Chicago, getting our rental car in Syracuse and then driving the 70-odd miles south to Binghamton, we were bedraggled when we arrived at the Motel 6. Not too bedraggled, however, to miss the large diner on the same street, which we paid a visit to after some minor delousing. The Spot Diner on Front Street in Binghamton was welcoming when we rolled in around 10:00 p.m. Ah, the wonder of a diner menu! Pages and pages of comfort food not to be found in much of the SF Bay Area, and, when it is, it is gussied up and fussy and expensive. Although I knew this would be a difficult trip in terms of my father’s illness, it would at least allow us to eat at the same kind of diners we grew up with in Queens. Matthew happily ordered the yee-ro when we noticed it was Greek-run, and I summoned the roast chicken dinner. A half chicken, real mashers, corn and a biscuit — all covered with cream gravy. That was after the small Greek salad and cup of Yankee bean soup. All this for under $10. While the Spot in no way measures up to greats like the Neptune, Bel-Aire and Keystone in Astoria, Queens, it was pretty good. We fell into bed full and exhausted. Incidentally, the Motel 6 in Binghamton is great. The rooms are every bit as nice as the pricier chains, and this one is fairly new so it is very clean. Big rooms and not tacky or seedy at all.
