CIAO, BELLA

The old Italian gent, his face looking slightly curdled, slowly hoisted his wobbly frame from his chair and clambered his way toward the back of the restaurant.

Executive Chef Joe Dellacroce, who owns GP Italiano with his wife, Emily, was busy doing what he does every night: massaging well-hydrated bundles of dough into frisbee-sized pizzas and shoving a parade of Italian wonders—octopus tendrils, pistachio-crusted cod filets and giant pork shanks—into the restaurant’s cavernous wood-burning oven.

He’d been staring at one of his creations, like a painter before his easel—checking to ensure all the colors and accoutrements had been positioned in all the right places.

And yet the determined old man kept walking toward him, straight as a brushstroke by Frank Stella. The man approached. Stopped. Locked eyes with Dellacroce and lobbed a potentially incendiary question over the pass, right into the center of Joe’s safe space.

The menu, the old man sniped, says your chicken parmesan has buffalo mozzarella. You have to change that. No one can get real buffalo mozzarella these days.

If you’re an Italian-born chef running an Italian American restaurant, you live for moments like this: The grizzled cynic who’s insistent that you’re doing something wrong, something that dishonors the Old Country. It’s a rite of passage—like your first reconciliation or screening The Godfather parts I and II for your first born.

Lucky for Dellacroce —who began cooking professionally for co-owner Paul Gattuso of Paul’s Pizza in Westchester when he was just 14—he happened to be cooking with a clear conscience. When Joe and Emily, who fell hard for each other while working at Antico Posto in Oak Brook, formally launched GP Italiano in late 2021, they’d made a solemn vow to each other. When it came to renovating the space, they’d be frugal. The stunning upside hanging garden that carpets the ceiling of the restaurant, for instance, was created with little more than bushels of faux flowers, a staplegun and plenty of “Emily imagination.” But the couple also agreed that they’d never compromise on the quality of their ingredients.

So in regards to the man’s query: Yes, old timer, they really did keep buffalo mozzarella in the back, using thick slabs of the glorious stuff to insulate their bone-in chicken parmesan, which is sauteed in a skillet, rather an oily fryer, to produce its glorious 24-karat crumb. In fact, if the old man would give Joe a minute, Dellacroce would be happy to show him the cheese, not to mention a cornucopia of other highend ingredients—imported guanciale, smoked honeys and pecorino—in his walk-in.

Suddenly, the old man’s scowl softened, cracking open to reveal a smile laced with genuine admiration. The man conferred his gratitude for the chef’s time, strolled back to his seat and began pointing to different dishes at his table, relaying newfound secrets about various dishes to his dining partners.

Don’t be surprised, upon visiting GP Italiano in downtown La Grange, if you find yourself similarly shocked and awed. Meatballs? Garlic bread? Vodka sauces? Chicken parm? Seen ’em all, devoured ’em all—a hundred times over, right? But that feeling of familiarity is an essential facet of Dellacroce’s strategy. “Our goal,” says Dellacroce, “is to take your grandma’s cooking and make it current.”

Take those meatballs, for instance. They’re made from a mix of ground Italian sausage and ground beef, the latter sourced from white cattle exported from Piedmont to a Nebraska farm. The selling point of these polpette doesn’t involve the usual superlatives. Not airy. Creamy. Or moist. These dense meatballs are meant to be cut with a knife and taste like were made somewhere in the Italian alps. They do give off a musky flavor—like they’re wood-fired orbs of grass-fed beef—but they’re delightfully pungent. Think Italian mountain fare, the kind of two-napkin delight you’d want to enjoy after a day spent hiking from small town to small town in Piedmont.

Each meatball is so rich that Joe can pipe rosettes of whipped ricotta atop each polpetta without overwhelming the dish’s base flavor. The ricotta’s primary job is to enhance what’s already there, while the accompanying slightly sweet, pink-hued vodka sauce should be smooshed and smothered onto the house’s delightful toasted focaccia bread.

As any self-respecting Italian born chef will tell you, “Keep it simple. Start with the best ingredients that Mother Earth provides and you’re halfway there.”

That’s certainly Joe and Emily’s philosophy. They’re intent on letting their Marra Forni wood-fired oven, which can reach 1,000 blistering degrees, do all the heavy lifting. Their pork shank, for instance, is tenderized for six hours in a slow burbling braise, then left to rest for an hour to ensure the witheringly tender meat doesn’t fall right off the bone before it reaches your table.

Into the Marra Forni it goes, caramelizing the thin glossy layer of smoked honey that’s been lacquered onto the meat. The result is a textural triumph—toothsome tufts of pork that stick to the bone, like an expertly smoked sparerib.

Joe’s oven also crisps up GP’s signature garlic bread, which is crafted out of pizza dough that’s aged for three days. The core ingredients, once again, are startlingly straightforward: Blanched garlic. Imported pecorino. And extra virgin olive oil. But all that extra moisture in Joe’s dough binds to that gloriously goopy garlic paste, which proceeds to seep into all the tiny crevices and air pockets pockmarking the dough. As a result, the border between dough and garlic paste completely evaporates. Working your way to the center of Joe’s garlic bread is like making your way to the floppy center of a Neapolitan pizza. It’s so heavy with cheese and garlic that it’s almost pure flavor.

If the wood-fired oven delights weren’t enough, consider Joe’s pasta choices, all of which are handmade. The difference between a domestic carbonara and an Old World carbonara? Nine times out of 10, it comes down to the quality of the eggs. Which is why Joe and Emily shell out extra cash to source hens’ eggs that boast orange yolk and some serious viscosity. The payoff? A carbonara that’s every bit as noteworthy for its creaminess as its classic flavors.

But the house’s best pasta is, undoubtedly, Joe’s lobster-ricotta cappelletti. No imitation seafood allowed here. Joe orders whole lobsters, every single Tuesday, using every part of those delicious crustaceans. Tail meat for the filling, along with chives and ricotta. The shells produce a sauce that’s as thick as a bisque. And the leftover buttered lobster claw meat is showered over the top of the pasta for an extra layer of decadence.

“We’re just enjoying the moment,” says Joe, who insists GP Italiano would never have survived the Covid shutdowns if not for Emily’s ability to handle every single job in the restaurant. “To stand in the front of the kitchen and watch people eat your food and smile—there’s nothing quite like it.”

GP Italiano is located at 1 South La Grange Road in La Grange. Visit gpitaliano.com or call 708.582.6536.

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COCKTAILS

Mambo Mule: It’s the color that woos people. Close your eyes and imagine what a love potion might look like: Slightly pink at its apex, before receding into a color that can only be described as Cupid red. The flavor profile is just as charming: blueberries, vodka, limoncello and a dash of ginger beer for extra spice.

Fortunata: If you’ve ever dreamt of waving a magic wand over your go to college shooter—a sugar-lined lemon drop shot—and transforming it into a cocktail worthy of your age, your prayers have been answered. The fortunate is a mix of lemon vodka, prosecco and a splash of Italicus, a wonderfully underrated bergamot liquor that makes this the ultimate adult lemonade.