NVM Review

By Warren Rojas

Though physically located in the elbow of a Burke shopping complex, Rafagino more accurately resides at the intersection of principle and profit: that ideological no-man’s land inhabited by the most passionate of restaurateurs’ innate desire to educate palates without browbeating patrons.

Co-owners Paulo Carvalho (general manager) and Rosa Buono (head chef) have been welcoming guests to their tables for 13 years at their current location, though Carvalho notes that they’ve both worked their way through the hospitality trade over the past few decades (he opened and later sold a Portuguese restaurant in Ballston that became the Lebanese-themed Layalina; Buono opened a restaurant in Rome, had a hand in D.C.’s Romeo and Juliet restaurant and has dabbled in other local projects).

When the opportunity arose to join forces and launch Rafagino—which Carvalho explains is actually a composite of Buono’s parents’ nicknames: mother - Rafaela (Rafa), father - Luigi (Gino)—Buono wanted to stick with the Southern Italian cuisine of her youth (she was born in Puglia).

She soon discovered, however, that American tastes disagreed with her epicurean ideals.

“She realized she was running a business and not a school,” he says of the real-world lessons they learned about what sells and what doesn’t in suburbia.

Carvalho says his wife literally cringed when he suggested adding cannolis to the dessert carte (a traditionally Sicilian dish), balked at the notion of mass-producing lasagna (considered more of a family-style, comfort staple than a commercial offering) and, to this day, will not feature anything Alfredo.

“She refuses to put Alfredo sauce on the menu because it doesn’t exist in Italy,” he states (the dish, a variation on the plain butter-and-cheese sauce known as al burro, has been traced back to Roman restaurateur Alfredo di Lello, who became an insta-celebrity once the Hollywood elite embraced his cream-laden creation in the late 1920s).

As a customer service-oriented professional, Buono subsequently tailored her cooking to reflect American-Italian preferences while still adhering to the tenets (fresh ingredients, minimal saucing) of her early culinary training.

“We try to be as Italian as we can,” Carvalho says.

They certainly look the part.

The intimate, strip-mall slot is accented by muted yellow walls, vintage European liquor ads, Italian crooners on the house stereo, flickering, tableside oil lamps and bright gold tapestries (dampeners turned decor). Well-appointed servers circulate freely amongst guests without disturbing the peace, delivering/removing plates with utmost precision, routinely checking in (resetting napkins, refilling glasses, showering orders with freshly shaved parmesan) sans intrusion and providing sage counsel (a debate about some potentially filling pasta sequencing yielded warning about the density of both dishes and a much-appreciated recommendation to pursue a lighter second instead) without condescension.

The dining room houses less than two dozen tables—most of which seemed to be claimed by groups of friends and extended families during our visits.

“It’s always good having you back. Let your wife know we miss her,” Carvalho assured one patron as he held out the man’s overcoat after one meal. Another night, a server paused to hug another departing couple, sealing their status as cherished friends with encircled arms and warm wishes.

According to Carvalho, regulars account for roughly 65 percent of his business.

He notes that one gentleman in particular used to dine there almost exclusively (around four to five times a week) during the nine years he lived in the immediate area, and continues to pop in at least once or twice per week since moving to Arlington.

“I have a largely steady clientele that keeps coming back,” he says of his diehard diners, noting that it’s not uncommon for him and Buono to invite patrons to their home for dinner and vice versa.

“They share stories. We share stories. And a relationship develops,” he says of the outside-the-workplace friendships he’s fostered over the years.

One would only hope said patrons respond in kind when it’s their turn behind the stove.

A portion of Bolognese-covered gnocchi summons a dozen potato-ricotta nuggets smothered in savory meat sauce (plenty of seasoned ground beef and hearty tomato flavor) and melted mozzarella.

Cioppino yields a seafood-packed stew of fresh cod (light, tender fish), shrimp (fluffy, jumbo specimens), mussels (though I know I counted more than a few empty shells) and calamari (pleasantly chewy mini rings) impregnated by fragrant tomato broth (delightful).

A plate of cavatelli monte e mare pays dividends for days, bearing weighty pasta tubes bedecked with peas (well cooked, but still crunchy), jumbo shrimp, mushrooms and well-cured prosciutto bits (omnipresent pork adds bite to every forkful) in a wholesome vegetable broth (cream sauce would have been overkill).

The wheels come off on a lasagna rolata—a quartet of muddled noodle roll-ups stuffed with so-called seasoned ground beef (add more seasoning; I know I did) and an overly acidic tomato sauce (it would seem Buono knew best when she attempted to torpedo any lasagna offerings).

I’m won back over by a delectable tiramisu (one of only four homemade desserts, including caramel flan, vanilla flan and panna cotta with fresh berries) assembled from booze-soaked ladyfingers, wispy whipped topping, shaved chocolate and just the right amount of cinnamon.

Carvalho notes that most regulars know they can twist his arm and request long-retired specials or discontinued items, because Rosa and her crew always do their best to oblige. “I have a very versatile kitchen that can do whatever the customer likes,” he says.

It’s no wonder then, that when one waitress offered up a cheery, “See you soon,” to a departing guest, the quick-witted patron shot back, “Not till Thursday.”