BAKER’S MAN

If you’re curious how Rich Labriola has kept his Labriola food empire in Oak Brook purring along since 2008, order his eponymous cheeseburger, the Richie Burger. You’ll get a juicy 7-ounce Black Angus patty. Slices of white cheddar. Some lettuce and tomato. All impressive, but will you look at that bun? All those quality fixings are sandwiched in the firm grip of Rich’s signature pretzel, which is impressive enough to make a Pennsylvania Dutch baker blush with envy.

It took Rich a lot of time and early-morning baking sessions to get that bun where he wanted it. He leaned on the expertise of old German baker/pretzel master, known simply as Hanz, to teach him to prepare the base recipe.

Notice that lilt of sauerbraten sweetness on the back end when you bite into it? That was Rich’s idea. He added a pinch of sugar to Hanz’s original recipe for ballast and balance. The bun won’t cottonmouth you like the oversalted twists you’d see in your local snack aisle. It’s more Bavarian. A Christkindlmarket pretzel roll. Firm, chewy and dense enough to absorb all those clear juice that run from the burger when you squeeze it toward your mouth.

When Rich Labriola announced, last summer, that he’d be combining his two Oak Brook eateries—Labriola Bakery & Café and La Barra—into a new Labriola Restaurant in the la Barra space, some regulars panicked. Would Richie’s pretzel rolls return? What about his famous pizzas, which he’s had a hand in baking since he was a kid, when he helped out at his father’s pizza parlor in Calumet Park.

Never fear: They’re all here. The best of both restaurant menus remain—including a full menu of Italian American pastas, salads and subs—all served in a sprawling dining room, which includes a spiffy all-season patio.

If you’re curious what differentiates Labriola from the dozens of other Italian trattorias around town, the answer is simple: This is a kitchen that still—God bless its dough-smattered soul— believes in the importance of baking its own: the alchemy derived from mixing flour, water, and salt in the right ratios.

98 268a2955 — Simple Chicago thin crust pizza

At some point or another, you might have heard the Legend of Richie Labriola, aka the Chief Dough Boy. To make a long story short, he fell in love with artisanal breads when he was in his 20s, then spent the next few decades baking every possible roll, pizza and doughnut you can imagine.

His thin-crust pizzas (expect a 20-minute wait) remind me of the South Side pies— Vince’s was a personal favorite—that my family used to drive from the North Side and pick up for special occasions. I order my Labriola thin-crust pizzas straight up, with just sausage. It’s the sort of unfussy pie that gave tavern-tyle pizza a good name. Labriola’s crust is much thicker than your ultra-thin saltine cracker variety—there’s no sloppy flopping here—and I personally appreciate a pizza doesn’t fingerprint you with flour dust whenever you pick up a piece. For those, who enjoy a heartier experience, there are also deep dish and Neapolitan pizzas.

But if the prospect of polishing off a whole pie sounds daunting, I recommend downsizing to Labriola’s stracciatella and pizza bread app. No one is going to blame you for reaching for the pesto, but the stracciatella—the silky custard like strands of mozzarella stuffed inside a burrata pouch—comes from the Mozzarella Guys, who have become mozzarella miracles workers in Peotone, Illinois.

Sourcing locally is one of the ways, says Chief Operating Officer Chris Favero, that Labriola has evolved in recent years. Not too long ago, if you wanted to run a good Italian restaurant, you’d have to import your ingredients from Italy and upcharge your diners for that luxury. Not anymore. Part of the advantages of being in the restaurant game as long as Rich has is the friendships you make, whether it’s Labriola’s stracciatella connection or its seafood purveyors, who are responsible for the first-class whitefish on its menu.

If I could find a way to adhere to a Blue Zone diet, I’d eat Labriola’s whitefish three days a week. But the dishes that turn me on the most are the old Sinatra stuff. I am in love—and will always be in love—with Labriola’s meatballs. Slice one in half and they’re as soft as a loaf of brioche, incredibly moist and riven with air pockets.

I am also a sucker for Labriola’s polenta, which tastes like a soft parmesan pudding, as well as Richie’s Lemon chicken, which, for my money, is a sophisticated riff on a chicken Vesuvio, served with potatoes and a wine jus with some serious body. Quick tip: When in doubt, order anything on the menu that has Rich’s name attached to it.)

Close your meal with Labriola’s olive oil sponge cake, which is topped with a head-turning triple play: peach-thyme compote, whipped honey mascarpone and toasted almonds. It’s shaped, appropriately enough, like a mini loaf and tastes, like so much at Labriola, like a baker’s dream.

Cocktails

Limoncello Martini:
On the sweetness scale, this sips more like a Lemon Drop than ’50-era martini, but the blend of citrus vodka, limoncello and mint lemonade makes it a crisp refresher that pairs well with calamari.

Prickly Pear Margarita:
There’s nothing particularly Italian about it, but smooth is smooth. Ask your server to make it with mezcal instead of tequila, as the extra smoke dances particularly well with the sweet prickly pear syrup.

Labriola Ristorante is located at 2011 Butterfield Road in Oak Brook, 630.861.6177, labriolaoakbrook.com.