Tre Trattoria

Family style Italian. That’s what they call it.

I call it communism with ravioli.

Very tasty ravioli, which is why I didn’t like sharing.

But let’s start at the beginning. The bar/lounge area was very swanky with creative blue lighting and contemporary furniture. It was almost enough to keep me from feeling bad for being twenty minutes late for a dinner I organized.

Being a large party, we were seated at a large elevated table to accommodate our party of seven. The place was rockin’ on a Friday night with an abundance of loud men in tassled topsiders. Just in case hurricane Gustav made it to San Antonio, these guys were ready.

After the drinks started flowing I found my own volume control quickly set to “self-involved yuppie” anyway. This is a great place for drinking and laughing with a loud party.

I tried the “Tre Martini” which was quite tasty, but hardly worth the twelve dollar asking price.
A tip for the single ladies: order one on your date’s dime. You’re worth it.

Are you wearing that “special” black dress? Order two.

The waiter got me started with an octopus salad, which was the chef’s special of the day. It was a fair salad. Then he kept referring to the men at the table as “bro”. I’m only really comfortable with four groups of people calling me bro:

• my sister (Shannon)
• friends (while inebriated)
• tropical islanders (I don’t know why)
• people instructing me not to “tase” them (ie – "Don't tase me, bro!")

This is too nice of a restaurant not to know the difference.

I went with the mascarpone ravioli for my main course, opting not to partake in the socialist “family style” meatball dish that my friends Rich, Phil, and Joe split among them. My curiosity got the better of me and I did scarf a quarter of a tasty meatball (was that citrus that I tasted?) by the end of dinner. Then I got worse.

I finished off Art’s pappardelle with bolognese and some of Mey’s fettuccini. The bolognese had a well executed lack of complexity; it tasted like Phillip’s Italian grandmother was working off her indentured servitude in the kitchen. Fettucini was almost at room temperature, but showed promise if they hadn’t dropped the ball in preparation. The staunch capitalist inside me was begging for mercy. I even shared some of my succulent ravioli.

I finished the meal with a delightfully carefree Oregon huckleberry milkshake which took me back to an innocent time when….uhmm…well….when my milkshakes didn’t come from Oregon. I must say that it was probably the best milkshake I’ve ever had.

Tip was included at 20% (very un-capitalist) for our party of seven, and Ben Franklin was sacrificed to the dining gods.

Ambiance: 4 cuy
Food: 4 cuy
Service: 2 cuy
Value: 3 cuy

Looking for a place to take a cougar with an annoying laugh? You’ve found it!

Overall:
Tre Trattoria Dinner Menu
Tre Trattoria Website