Salerno's pizza joint brings Windy City pies to Gilbert, but critic's tastebuds say only average
By CRYSTAL PETROCELLI
Get Out

Wait: The hostess, who seated us just shy of 6 p.m. on a Tuesday, was thoughtful enough to put distance between us and a large, baby- and kid-dotted birthday bash table.

Service: A truly family-run restaurant, three generations of Salerno’s strive to make each guest happy and comfortable. A request for “extra, extra thin” crust is met with a smile and a visit from the pizza master to double check the exact finger-pinch width desired. Our server was honest (she described the dinner salad as “basic”), courteous (our “thank you” always received a warm “you’re welcome”) and she kept us flush in paper napkins, which is no easy task when you’re waiting on me.

What we liked: It’s slightly above- average pizza, nothing out of this world, but fine by neighborhood hangout standards. If you like sauce, ask them to slather it on because our pie came with such a miniscule amount we didn’t even notice it. Our simple salads were jazzed up by a biting balsamic house dressing. The flavorful French bread bruschetta, which was one of a handful of nightly specials, was topped with diced tomatoes and garlic tossed in a light dressing.

Scene: Laminated tables and concrete floors gave Salerno’s a summer camp mess hall feel, as did the kids who became bored with sitting and the 50- plus-year-old couple who found it amusing to make annoying whistle-screech sounds with their straw wrappers.

Bathroom break: A tidy, high school gym locker-esque two-staller.

Tab for two: $45 with tip and tax for two dinner salads ($3.50 each), bruschetta ($5.50), a medium pizza with five toppings ($17.50) and tiramisu ($5).

If work weren’t buying: Even if the pizza was outstanding, the foul farmland smell outside is an instant appetite killer for us city folk.

By CHRIS PAGE
Get Out

Wait: We arrived a little after 1 p.m. on a Saturday and were seated immediately in the nearly empty dining room.

Service: Our server gal — she said she came from a Salerno’s back East — was friendly and expeditious. But we were turned off by the staff’s use of cheap busboy pushcarts to bring out food. (Even if it’s just one dish.) Sure, it’s a time and back saver, but it looks darn goofy.

What we liked: Bucking the desire to sample Salerno’s highly touted pizza (dude, we’re itching to try eggplant- ricotta thin crust), we ordered what turned out to be a rip-off bruschetta — ordinary, dry, crying out for cheese — as an appetizer, then entrées of lasagna and chicken Vesuvio. The lunch-special lasagna was filling, though ordinary, with tough nuggets of meat that I ended up excavating and ignoring. And my companion’s clucking Vesuvio — well, it didn’t exactly bury our Pompeii with flavor; mostly, it was just salty, albeit hearty. We got the impression Salerno’s non-pizza menu is all about comfort food — comforting because it tastes like the so-so Italian food my mama used to make. But, folks, she’s German. And what’s this, floating high above the ordinary? A divine cannoli, its ricotta balanced to subtle not-so-sweetness, its top sprinkled with pistachios, its shell giving way with a thin crunch as our forks attacked it with full frenzy. Delish!

Scene: Poor Salerno’s can’t make up its mind. A drywall fresco of a pretty Italian landscape suggests it wants to rock the romantic vibe, but the token bottle of Chianti on cheap industrial tables and Baptist church reception hall chairs say this is a no-frills neighborhood pizza joint, sans TV.

Bathroom break: Sorry, mobsters, you’ll need someplace swankier to hold your clandestine meetings. This one’s well-stocked, no frills, get your business done and get out.

Tab for two: $40 with tax and tip for bruschetta ($5.50), chicken Vesuvio ($13), lunch special lasagna ($6.95), cannoli ($2.75) and soft drinks ($1.50 each).

If work weren’t buying: To paraphrase Clemenza: Leave the entreés. Take the cannoli.