Bar ‘Cino: An Italian experience that’s just right

It had been six weeks since I’d eaten pizza. This is, by my own standards, sacrilegious, so when I saw pictures of the grilled pizza served at Bar ‘Cino in Newport, I made a reservation.

My Italian is not as good as my Greek, so I didn’t know if ‘Cino meant something — like, “Young food writer, why has it been so long since you’ve eaten pizza?” — but I couldn’t find a direct translation. It did, however, remind me of the word “cibo,” which is Italian for “food,” and also tells you where my head is at all times. In case you are not familiar with either word, ‘Cino is pronounced “chee-no,” which I only mention because I’ve seen it on signage, and I imagine someone out there is calling it something weird. Don’t be that person.

My food friend Jeremy and I visited on Labor Day, as our outdoor plans were thwarted due to thunderstorm predictions, and this gave us a reason to look forward to being indoors. Located at the corner of Washington Square at Charles Street, the interior has been beautifully transformed to offer a beachy rustic vibe.

During the warmer months, they offer outdoor seating, but on this cloudy day we opted for a table inside. The space is narrow and full of light; to the right, a bar runs the full length with round stools and high-backed chairs in front of an open kitchen. To the left, along the windows, is a long cushioned bench seat and a series of tables, some wooden-topped and others black-and-white checkered. Cans of Partanna olive oil sit on every table, boasting “Olio Extra Vergine De Oliva,” the perfect condiment for bread that arrives wrapped in brown parchment.

I planned to order red wine because it seemed like the logical choice for pizza and pasta — I was dreaming of red sauce, of all types — but I saw a cocktail and paused: the Downeast Negroni, containing an unusual ingredient: Coffee Campari.

A fan of normal Negronis, I thought I’d give this a try. I’ve enjoyed Campari ever since I met a chain-smoking fisherman in Greece who drank it so often I now associate the red bitters with the sea. But after my first sip, I declared that the Downeast Negroni ought to be the State Cocktail of Rhode Island. I couldn’t stop raving about it. The Beefeater gin and the Carpano Antica Vermouth upped the ante, but the coffee flavor elevated the drink to a new level, remaining both distinct yet complementary. I don’t understand it, but I don’t question cocktail science.

Jeremy ordered Ragged Island’s Beach Day and not only was the can art exceptional, the IPA tasted, he said, wonderfully refreshing.

When we attempted to tackle the menu, our waitress, Olga, asked if we needed assistance. She saw us eyeing a neighbor’s food and discreetly described each of their dishes, then helped us even further when we were stuck between two choices.

“The romaine and kale Caesar, or the Tuscan kale?” I asked. The table near us had a gorgeous looking Caesar salad, and it’s been a while since I’ve had this classic, but the Tuscan kale had avocado, pine nuts and sun-dried tomato vinaigrette. All alluring.

“We use really delicious kale here,” Olga said, “and the Tuscan is unique, so I would go with that.”

Done.

Then it was onto the shared plates: baked clams pomodoro or antipasti? Perhaps I should have respected Jeremy’s fear of seafood — he felt much safer with the Parmesan topped prosciutto, EVOO poached tuna, white beans, olives and fig jam — but Olga endorsed the clams so it was two against one.

The pizza and pasta were easy choices because we craved simplicity: Margherita pizza and rigatoni bolognese. The pizza arrived first, a perfectly grilled square-ish shaped pie with nine bright circles of pomodoro sauce, each topped with fresh basil, and a mix of fontina and Parmesan cheeses. Pizza scissors were required, as an uncut pizza is the true Italian experience, and Jeremy did the honors. He created something of an artistic jigsaw puzzle, but the thin, crispy crust made it easy to handle and even easier to consume. It was more like a flatbread than a Neopolitan experience, and it was my favorite dish of the day. I could have easily eaten it all by myself.

The salad arrived next, a mound of hunter green kale peeking through a liberal shaving of snow-white Parmesan. The leaves were crisp and the salad was blended well — it was hard to pick out avocado, for instance, because there were no giant slices. This tasted like the good kind of healthy, and the portion was generous enough for us to share and still have leftovers (it was, sadly, the only plate we didn’t finish completely).

Then came the baked clams and the rigatoni. Both of these had drool-worthy sauces. The clams were served in a pomodoro and white wine sauce with chunks of garlic, sliced scallions and chili flakes. Despite Jeremy’s shellfish aversion, he used the garlic bread to sop up the sauce, and when the clams ran out, I drank the sauce with a spoon. That’s right, I have no shame. Equally noteworthy was the bolognese, which was served generously atop the rigatoni. I am always sad when there’s not enough sauce to go around, but this had just enough.

We ended with two desserts, the pistachio-ricotta-cream layer cake and the tiramisu. The former was Olga’s favorite — and I’ve since confirmed with other foodies their love for this dessert, and I heartily agree. But that tiramisu: Jeremy spent a week in Italy this summer and didn’t find a tiramisu he liked as much. It wasn’t too firm or too airy, too alcoholic or too sweet — it was just right.

Perhaps that’s what Bar ‘Cino is all about, being the Goldilocks of Italian dining. Everything about it is just right.

22 Washington Square, Newport, 401-619-8201, barcinonewport.com; @bar.cino.newport