Anonymity at Alia Ristorante – Winthrop

Dimly lit, and privy only to locals and gutsy Bostonians, Alia is the ideal place to bring your sordid lover, coworker you secretly dally with behind the water cooler, a picky eater, or maybe just anyone you don’t want to be seen in public with. Few Bostonians know about Alia, and the regulars in the town of Winthrop usually lack the visual acuity to actually see your face. And if you happen to like good food…Two birds. One stone.

And what better way to jump-kick an affair than a fresh plate of Caprese? I’ve feasted on the freshest buffalo mozzarella while plodding through the Tuscan vineyards, and this is easily as good as Siena’s finest. Stringy as a grape vine, moist as a vine-ripened grape.

Never tried a Moroccan olive? They’re darker than the darkest eye, more bittersweet than a star-crossed lover, and more velvety-rich than the thrill of a first kiss. So consider yourself deprived.

IMHO, one of Alia’s more endearing qualities is that it is as accommodating as whomever you brought. The one who occupies your passenger seat knows the fastest way to your heart and can always put whatever your heart desires into your stomach. Alia is equally eager to please, and they make custom pastas using whatever your heart desires that their stock can meet. Are there any words in the English language sweeter than “as you wish”?

I wished for Orecchiette with a spicy vodka sauce. Little al dente ears with prosciutto and veggies, no peas. What I got was a slightly sweaty sauce with various veggies and pleasing pieces of prosciutto, exactly what the doctor ordered. Props to a chef who isn’t afraid to turn on the heat! My only regret is that I didn’t ask for sausage, which would have completed my pasta…and my life…but that’s clearly what I’ll remember for next time. Like all faithful lovers, I’m willing to try until I get it right.

My mysterious man (who whisked me away to Alia for my birthday dinner…hopefully not because I resemble a sordid affair/someone he didn’t want to be seen in public with…) wanted gnocchi. Gnocchi with creamy pesto and lots of veggies. I swear if United Colors of Benetton suddenly became an advocate for diversity of vegetables, our pastas would be their logo. The pesto is, like me, quite a prize, but I limited my indulgence to a mere taste. I imagine many affairs end with lactose intolerance, and I’d rather hang onto mine…the affair, not the lactose intolerance…

I’m not saying the Tiramisu was the best I’ve ever had, I’m saying it’s the best EVER. The mascarpone is thick, the ladyfingers are moist, and this classic house-made Italian tradition is as sweet as a soul-mate yet not sweet enough to make you gag. I’d probably eat that mascarpone on anything, but don’t you get any ideas…

The only thing obscure about Alia is the location. The sweet simplicity of the food and the mom-and-pop operation is lost to today’s dime-a-dozen chains. So when you use Alia to accommodate your anonymous needs, be careful. A restaurant this good with food this fun won’t be a secret for long…Did I mention the BYOB policy? So for good food with a side of anonymity, make the drive to Alia. The lighting is as dark as the Moroccan olives, and the olives as dark and mysterious as your identity.