It seems that an Italian pizzeria or ristorante rolls in or out of town as often as the ocean tides. To my palate, I would say about a handful are good and one or two turn out a great version of one dish or another. But other than a wild-mushroom ravioli and ragout I savored once in New Jersey, I have not experienced Italian “bada-bing!” until I ate at Ciao Italian Restaurant & Deli.

I’ve driven past Ciao’s unassuming awning hundreds of times. At the north end of a small strip plaza, beside a pet store, I mistook it for a pizza-by-the-slice sort of place. You only get the real scoop on Ciao by word-of-mouth, and the buzz has reached enough discerning ears now that on any night of the week you need reservations for dinner.

We snagged the only available seating left one Saturday evening and entered the convivial world of Ciao, where high-voiced chatter mingles with the delicious scents of sautéed garlic, simmering sauces, and steaming dishes. There is no lounge or bar area, so once inside the continuously swinging door, you’re at the hostess stand dodging the comings and goings until ushered to one of fifteen tables, positioned with just enough room for servers to snake around.

Our meal began with greetings from fellow diners on either side of us, their recommendations, and hot, crusty bread with herb-infused dipping oil.

Following the advice of one veteran patron, I ordered the spinach, walnut, and ricotta–stuffed ravioli. My meat-loving husband took his cue from the evening’s menu specials and chose a ribeye marsala with garlic mashed potatoes.

While marveling at the silky quality of my salad’s house dressing, I was able to get a torturous view and aromatic sniff of a brimming bowl of linguini in white clam sauce covered with a bed of littlenecks; veal picatta, so thin and tender that no knife was required; and a sautéed, skin-on corvena (a relative of the sea bass), finished in homemade stock, laid over a pillow of creamy risotto.

But not even the surrounding delicacies prepared me for the sensational dish I was about to experience. Most often, ravioli is served with a complementary sauce that’s tasty but usually overshadowed by the stuffed pasta. Not the case here. The marinara and cream sauce with hints of garlic and basil perfectly spoke to the ravioli, which offered a rasp of ricotta, a crunch of toasted walnut, a thread of wilted spinach, and a chew of proscuitto with every bite. The unity of taste and texture was Gestalt, sublime.

My husband’s steak was a sight to behold, leaning on a crest of mashed potatoes and drenched in a delicate marsala sauce, which he pointed out had the perfect amount of mushrooms to accompany every forkful. There is no other way to describe the potatoes but to say they were outstanding—dense, milky, and expertly anointed with roasted garlic and just the right amount of Parmesan.

To disregard the dessert menu after such a meal would have been culinary blasphemy. Our charming waitress suggested the Exotic Bomba if we liked mango, but we decided to treat our sweet tooths to the Coppa Mascarpone, a mellifluous, cheese-based round of custard with a crunchy topping of crumbled amaretto cookies. All the way through dessert, Ciao was able to pull off consummate melding of flavors and textures.

I sought out the full-blooded Italian founder of such fine Mediterranean fare, only to find another interesting tidbit: Ciao is owned by Claudia Hysa who hails from Albania and is “chefed” by Eddie Dourvas of Greek descent.

Except for specials du jour, Ciao doesn’t stray far from traditional Italian menu items like spaghetti and meatballs, eggplant Parmesan, and even cacciatore. But fans claim that there’s some secret ingredient they can’t quite pinpoint that transcends the dishes from mundane
to ethereal.

Hysa refutes the “secret ingredient” theory and nods to her mother, Margrita Vranadhima, who is the daily master mixer of all sauces, meatballs, dressings, and lasagna. “We’re small enough that we can cook the old, traditional way,” says Hysa. “There’s no skipping steps … we even have one person in the kitchen dedicated to pounding out the veal by hand, and my mother is also an expert with eggplant.”

Whether it’s the Albanian influence, Margrita’s mojo, “special ingredients,” or extra steps taken, Ciao has certainly come up with a restaurant recipe for wow.