Dining at an Italian restaurant is more than a meal – it’s an all-encompassing experience. It’s the first bite of fresh pasta with house-made sauce. It’s the glow of intimate, ambient lighting. A quiet serenade by Frank Sinatra or Dean Martin in the background. The unintelligible chatter of happy guests with full bellies. The pop of a bottle. A clink of some glasses. This is what dinner at an Italian restaurant means to me. Unfortunately, this is not the experience I received at Roma Italian restaurant.
I visited the Texarkana, Arkansas restaurant on a Saturday night around 7:00pm – this is a prime time for most restaurants. Well, this was not the case for Roma. Aside from myself and the two others in my party, there were only about 10 to 15 diners in the restaurant. I chalked it up to the restaurant’s location. Roma is – I’ll say – locationally challenged. It’s a bit out of the way for most locals (an 18-minute drive from my Texarkana home).
My party was seated immediately and the first thing I heard was, well, nothing. It was nearly silent in the dining area. So, were we supposed to sit around and listen to each other chew? I would’ve given my right hand for some smooth jazz in the background. Okay, maybe not my right hand; marinara sauce and a non-dominant hand is a recipe for disaster. Nevertheless, it was much too quiet in there.
The place was appropriately lit and impeccably clean. It just felt empty. Sure, there were plenty of tables and chairs, but the restaurant lacked energy, warmth, and ambiance (all of which caused major point deductions in my book).
Our server introduced herself in a flash. Within five minutes of being seated, there was cold water and warm bread on the table. It was showtime – alcohol orders. My table and I decided to share a bottle of prosecco (a necessity when dining at an Italian restaurant). We made our drink request and sat on the edges of our seats, awaiting the pop and clink that were sure to kick-start our dining experience.
Out came our prosecco. The moment the bottle was opened, the cork ricocheted at rocket speed against the ceiling, onto an occupied table, and then (probably) to the floor. What should have been a pop turned into a pop, bang, clash, “Is everyone okay???” I don’t actually know where the projectile cork finally landed. I’m just glad nobody lost an eye – or a right hand.
Our wait staff reined in the chaos, checked on everyone, and we all had a good laugh. No one was hurt, the bottle was unscathed, and we did get to hear the anticipated pop (even if it was accompanied by some extra sounds). Plus, we still had a clink in our immediate future.
To our dismay, the waitstaff sat before us three wine glasses – just generic, round wine glasses. My party and I exchanged glances. Maybe we’re just drinkware snobs, but shouldn’t prosecco be served in a flute? No? Just me? We clink-ed anyway and moved on. It was time to place our food orders.
Our server recommended the alfredo sauce; she said it’s homemade and unbeatable. We were sold. One person in my party ordered the shrimp and scallop alfredo, another had the pasta combo, and I had the lobster ravioli. Where should I begin?
The lobster ravioli was alright. It consisted of ravioli, lobster tail, and a pink sauce. The ravioli was cooked well (there’s not much worse than overcooked pasta). Given that we’re 300 miles from the nearest coast, the lobster tail was alright. It was in sizeable chunks and the texture was as expected for the average nowhere-near-the-ocean lobster. It was chewy but not rubbery. The star of this dish was the pink sauce – a mix of both tomato and cream sauces. It was warm, acidic, creamy, slightly sweet, and slightly spicy. It tasted exactly how a tomato and cream sauce should taste. For $15.99 and a decent one-person portion, this dish is okay.
My party and I had high hopes for the pasta combo. It included lasagna, manicotti, spinach ravioli, tortellini, and ziti, with marinara sauce and mozzarella cheese. We thought this would be a great opportunity to try multiple dishes in one – and it was exactly that. The mix of pastas arrived all together on one big plate, covered by a cohesive layer of cheese and marinara. Did the sauce and pasta taste alright? Yes. Did we dig around in marinara like archaeologists attempting to unearth and identify remains? Also yes. We couldn’t tell where the lasagna ended and the manicotti began. Despite the extra work, it all tasted okay. The marinara was average and tasted like a seasoned tomato – exactly what it is. The pasta combo is $15.99 and does require some mild disassembly.
Now onto the long-awaited alfredo. Our expectations were through the roof. The shrimp and scallop alfredo contained shrimp, scallops, fettuccine pasta, and Roma’s homemade alfredo sauce. The shrimp was fine. The fettuccine pasta was al dente, as I like it. Where this dish began to exponentially decline was the scallops, which nearly gave me nightmares. The only way I can describe how they felt in my mouth was mush. The consistency of the scallop was atrocious, and the taste was almost as bad. It was generically fishy. It tasted as if someone had boarded a commercial fishing boat, scraped some ambiguous lump off the deck, and tossed it into this dish. I couldn’t even enjoy the homemade alfredo, as the piscatorial essence had seeped into it as if through ill-meaning osmosis. So, if you want to avoid having fishy flashbacks and hearing fog horns in your dreams, steer clear of this $17.99 dish.
I decided to end on a good note and order the tiramisu for dessert. It was like most things at Roma – just okay. It was served cold and cut into a perfect square. It tasted like a classic (but a bit dry) tiramisu – chocolate, coffee, and mascarpone. $5.99 feels fair enough for this dish.
By the time dessert was done, the slim attendance at the restaurant had further lessened. Our bottle was finished, our glasses were empty, and the ambiance was still nonexistent. There were no more pops or clinks (or bangs, ouches, or cracks) to be heard. Our server, who had been attentive and friendly all evening, brought us the check. We tipped her well, of course. After all, I’m sure she wasn’t directly responsible for the mystery mollusks we had been served moments earlier. So, to sum it up: Roma overall is okay. The environment lacks ambiance, the waitstaff is wonderful, and the food is decent. Just avoid ordering seafood lest you fall victim to the sinister shellfish and its questionable composition.
