Luck o' the Italians (or Amicci's)

My big plans to go Irish pubbing just never came to fruition. My plans for St. Patrick's Day would have taken me to An Poitín Stil (an pot-CHEEN still), the big Irish pub up in Timonium. Well, I drove a good distance to get there. And I drove by to see one end of the parking lot blocked off with cones and the other end shut by a gate (I think that's the parking lot). So, scratching my head, with the Garth Brooks song Ireland churning on my MP3 player, I called An Poitín Stil to ask if there was any seating:

Maitre d': It's first come first serve seating tonight, sir.

Me: Okay, and is there any parking?

Maitre d': Well, there's a shuttle that picks people up from the...

I sort of tuned out after she said "shuttle."

Giving up on An Poitín Stil, I set my next destination for the James Joyce Pub, on the outskirts of Little Italy (it's hilarious, there's an Irish pub practically in Little Italy). Parking by Whole Foods - the meters there absurdly run 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, just to warn you - I walked over toward James Joyce. I stopped when I saw the loooong line out the door, and decided, "Hell, I'm Irish - okay, Irish-American - year-round! Let the silly people in the shiny green shamrock necklaces have their fun for one night, I'll go some other time when there's breathing room."

So, with Little Italy, like, right next to me, I decided to finally try out Amicci's, which was only about 10 minutes from my car and about 5 minutes away from me.

Amicci's is a lovely place. It's not the Ritz, and compared to places like Villeggia's or Sabatino's it's pretty Spartan. But I think the decor is charming in a country kitchen sort of way, but if that kitchen had lots of Italian and Italian-American movie posters all over the place (I had Joe Pesci staring at me from his GoodFellas poster all night). Amicci's seemed not to be that busy. This makes sense, since everybody in the area was stuffed into James Joyce! There was no shortage of tables, and I even got a table immediately, a big round one that seats five. When I got my menu my eyes went immediately to the mussels, for only $12 and 9/10 (Amicci's lists its prices as mixed fractions). Adding calamari for $8 more and (yes) a Guinness - the tall bottle is served here - for about $4 brought my total to around $25. But more on that near the end.

If I was seated quickly, I certainly didn't give my order quickly. My waitress admitted that she actually didn't see me (I was in a corner, after all). Whatever, but most people did get served faster than I did, so maybe. But I was still a little irritated. The waitress did bring me a basket of bread - very soft inside with a chewy crust, which wasn't too easy to spread the rock-hard cold butter patties onto - and my Guinness in sort of a hurry and then went off.

It's strange, really, how well the Guinness went with the calamari, served on a big plate with a dish of chunky marinara sauce in the middle. I thought this was an easier presentation than at Sammy's Trattoria, who gives you a separate plate of tomatoes. These calamari were about as good as it gets. The squid was not chewy and the breading was crispy, light and tasty. Topped with the tomatoes and washed down with the Guinness it was filling and almost a meal in itself.

Then the mussels came out. OMG, way too much food! But they were good, about, oh, 30 or so mussels bathing in butter, sitting on top of a hearty pasta. Not sure what pasta it was, just long and thick. I could not finish these mussels so I got the rest to go. I left about a $4 tip for a total of $30 - the service, again, wasn't that great, but the women behind me did get served by the same waitress much faster than I did, so again, maybe a one-time fluke. But I am definitely looking forward to my next trip!

From there I went searching for more Irish beer, not too much more lest I get arrested. Knowing I would never get into an Irish pub that night I looked for any non-Irish bar I could find, - neighborhood, cantina, dance, gay, whatever. I wound up at the Eagle, where the bartender recommended yet another Irish pub the next time I went looking, Mick O'Shea's on Charles Street (that I will look into). And of course, all this information was delivered over - duh - a Guinness.