Tomato, Tomotto

Post written by Bridget Strub.

Besides traditional holiday meals, the birthday dinner is by far one of the most important meals shared during the year. It determines the mood of the day, and more importantly sets the tone for the upcoming year. Needless to say, I felt a lot of pressure last Tuesday when my mom offered to treat me to dinner on my birthday; I just had to pick the place. Not only was she going to pay for my meal, she was going to drive an hour on a weeknight just to do it. Like I said last week, my parents have a really incredible way of making me feel special on my birthday.

I decided it would be best if we ate in Victor, because I work there and it’s closer for my mom than Rochester. I tentatively thought I’d choose a restaurant that I had received a birthday coupon to, thinking it made the most sense. But, as I thought of the many chain restaurants I could visit, I was left with that, “eh” feeling. They felt too familiar, not special enough for the birthday meal.

It wasn’t until I brought my dilemma to some of my colleagues that I received the advice that I needed. Most of them are Victor residents, so they spoke candidly about area restaurants. I mentioned that I was kind of in the mood for Italian (I thought I should honor that 25% of my heritage this year), and I was met with a unanimous “Go to Otto Tomottos!” (No, I didn’t just misspell tomatoes).

I had seen Otto Tomotto’s Good Italian Restaurant before and some friends recommended it to me last year. Pete and I had been thinking about trying it for a few months now, so the decision seemed obvious. We had heard nothing but great things about the restaurant, so my inhibitions were very low. As my mom, Pete and I met up to head to our dinner festivities, the sky opened up and hail pelted us from every possibly direction. I got a little nervous, thinking it was a sign from the heavens to turn back, but we pressed on anyway. We walked into the restaurant right behind a family of four. The décor was cheery with yellow walls and bright pictures. The dining room was petite with only ten or so tables that sat four people each. Only one of the tables was occupied, so I knew we wouldn’t have trouble finding a seat. Awkwardly enough, though, the hostess didn’t appear until we had been standing there for at least five minutes. She was an extremely energetic woman who seemed a bit overly excited to serve us.

The menu had plenty of tantalizing options. They had a lot of seafood dishes that captured my mom’s attention right away; she chose Oregano Baked Tilapia. Neither Pete nor I are huge seafood fans, so we kept looking. I was excited to see stuffed shells and tortellini (two of my most favorite Italian dishes) along with plenty of other pasta dishes. Pete was satisfied once he found their Lasagna. Without fail, that’s his dish of choice at Italian restaurants, and Tuesday was no exception. My mind was made up immediately, though, when I read that they offered Gnocchi with my choice of sauce. There are very few restaurants that have gnocchi on their menus, so I’m always super excited to find it especially if it’s homemade. Otto tomotto’s motto (haha, triple rhyme!) boasts, “Any closer to Italy, you’d need a passport” so I couldn’t pass up the chance to indulge in real Italian gnocchi. I was not let down either. They delivered to our table a steaming plate of incredibleness. I ordered blush sauce atop my gnocchi and MAN was it yummy! I wanted to eat the whole bowl, but there were portions enough for two meals.

As I’m writing this, my mouth is watering. I’d go back to Otto Tomotto’s in a heartbeat. Pete, as always, ate his dinner in enough time to have downed three more pieces of lasagna in the time it took my mom and I just to get the rest of our meals put in to-go containers. My mom, the expert in homemade Italian food vouched for their authenticity as well. We were all thoroughly impressed with the food, and so absorbed in it that we barely noticed we were the only ones left in the restaurant by the end of our meal.

Once I did recognize that fact, though, it felt a little too quiet in there for our boisterous conversation. I should state for the record that my mom and I caused the boisterousness of the conversation. It seems that when we’re together, the Italian blood takes over our bodies, but especially our mouths, and we spew words at each other faster than we can think them. (I’ve always loved this about my mom and me). When we’re together, though, Pete rarely gets a word in edgewise. Between you and me I think he likes it that way. I don’t know where he goes when my mom and I are verbally racing each other, but he had his lasagna to keep him company for at least two minutes of that dinner conversation. The rest of the time I think he was just thinking about how good it was.

We will most definitely be back to Otto Tomotto’s, but next time we’ll probably order take out. I think we’d get just as tasty of an experience, with a little less of the awkwardness. Before we exited the restaurant, Pete spontaneously twirled me around in the middle of the empty dining room, and I realized there’s nothing like the charm of a little Italian restaurant to inspire swaying (we don’t really know how to dance) to the cadences of the Italian greats my grandma used to listen to.

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