Bella Luna - 2006.06.07 -- *

We were, in fact, in search of Il Fornaio this evening. As always I was lured by the idea of trying a new place, especially in favor of a chain restaurant, as much as I enjoyed Il Fornaio last time. And Amnon shared my view. So we thought of dropping by the place we saw last time we were in Palo Alto - incidentally also in search of Italian fare, Bella Luna.

And who could've foreseen we would have even less of an enjoyable meal than that last! It struck me as odd that finding a good, nay, decent Italian place has proven so difficult in downtown Palo Alto, of all places in south bay. While Coppola affronted me with mostly their service, Bella Luna's terrible food was admittedly more unbearable to me. My cousin and I were of less hunger than Amnon, so we chose two appetizers and a main course for sharing, leaving room for potential desserts. But we'd never get that far.

Jeanne picked at a plate of caprese salad while her appetite quickly deflated, with its tasteless watery tomatoes, mozzarella that managed somehow to taste dry, and not but one tiny leaf of basil to tie the dish together. There was also not a hint of salt in there. Amnon groaned over his *pink* carpaccio, that came with dabs of yellow mustard. He must've been sufficiently hungry to finish that plate, despite calling it "the worst carpaccio I've ever had". One look, and I thought better to judge his statement myself.

My own dish of veal scallopini arrived with three medallions of meat that added up to less than the size of my hand, and I have small hands! Never being a picky person regarding portions, I was nevertheless bowed over by their toughness and the weird flavor. The dark brown sauce did not emanate a rich reddish hue like that of a proper veal reduction, but rather a grayish tinge that reflected its dubious savor. The portobello topping lost their meatiness in the thin slicing, and failed to rescue the veal.

Richly beautiful as the decors were, and faultless the service, we could not wait to pay the check and dive down the street to Gelato Classico for something to erase the memories from our tongues.

$41