Cala Lily Cafe blooms into chef's dream of a restaurant

Friday, July 27, 2001

By Woodene Merriman, Post-Gazette Dining Critic

Rick F. "Chico" Rivero is an avid gardener as well as a chef. Once when he was studying a gardening catalog, he saw a picture of a calla lily, with the description: "Simple and elegant."

"That's what I want when I open my own restaurant," he said to himself.

Fast forward to July 2001. Chico Rivero has left Rico's in Ross, where he cooked for more than 20 years, and opened that restaurant he wanted. The name is Cala Lily Cafe, with the spelling Rivero prefers, and he's working on the "simple and elegant" part.

If "simple" means small and casual, he has it. Cala Lily Cafe seats just 50 people.

It's in a little strip mall, right next to a hobby shop, and easily missed unless you happen to get stopped at the traffic light on Route 8 and notice the sign for the restaurant. With swags of fabric here and there, some green plants on the walls and wrought-iron chairs, it has a garden look. Elegant? Well, he's working on that part.

Rivero has just come out of the kitchen and is moving from table to table, schmoozing with guests. For a Thursday night, business is brisk. Many people seem to know the smiling chef, probably from his years at the popular Rico's. A few minutes later, he's back in the kitchen -- working on my paella de Alicante, I hope.

This is the restaurant's signature dish, named for the town in Spain where Rivero was born. He's of Mexican descent,

and spent years in France and Germany, too. Here, paella, the famous blend of meats, shellfish and saffron rice, is almost the same here as paella in his hometown.

One difference: Here, he takes the cooked chicken breast off the bones and cuts it into pieces before he serves the paella. Pittsburghers, he says, like convenience.

To heck with those lazy Pittsburghers, I wish he served paella the authentic way. The pieces of naked white chicken breast meat in my paella are a little tough, the only off-note in this otherwise outstanding dish. The sausage, clams, scallops, little lobster tail, mussels, the saffron rice underneath and the pretty red cooked tomatoes on top are all good. It's the dish to order at Cala Lily Cafe.

Rivero's wife, Connie, is the dining room manager tonight. Sometimes his partner, Paul Anzaldi, who's "in computers" as they say, handles the front of the house. Anzaldi is especially interested in wines and worked with suppliers in developing the wine list. His Honor likes it, even got his little flashlight out so he could study the list better before we ordered. Many of the tables have bottles of wine, a good sign.

"New Zealand is turning out some wonderful sauvignon blancs," he says, finally lifting his head out of the wine list. "They've got a good one for $28. There's an interesting 1999 Cote du Rhone Domaine d' Andezon, too. It's a little young, but ..."

He's right. The 1999 Rhone is a little young, but it gets softer after it's opened and breathes a while. "Surprisingly drinkable for such a young Rhone," H.H. finally proclaims.

We've been here before, and have tried three of the appetizers. Our favorite is poblano chile relleno stuffed with Spanish drunken goat's cheese. Those goats, I gather from the taste, were drinking red wine. Delicious. The cheese literally melts in your mouth. Homemade sausage stuffed into long, hot banana peppers and served with tomato sauce, and the tomato and roasted sweet pepper crostini on olive focaccia were nice,

too -- but the cold chopped tomato and sweet pepper combo kept falling off the warm focaccia as we ate.

With salads, it's no contest. The big elegant greens blend with fresh market berries and the house vinaigrette is a stunner. Ours had halved strawberries, blueberries and red raspberries. When the produce changes with the seasons, he'll just change the fruit, Rivero says.

The marinated hearts of artichoke, with palm, celery and Belgian endive were pleasant, but we kept wondering why the chef didn't put them on a little lettuce. An all-white salad isn't too appealing. Another that doesn't sound so good to me is a wedge of iceberg lettuce, with a choice of dressings. Miracle Whip isn't one of the choices though, and everybody who was around in the 1950s knows it's Miracle Whip that goes with iceberg wedges.

Rivero serves a lot of fish, like everybody these days. It was here that H.H. had the thickest piece of Chilean sea bass we've ever seen. (Were we recognized?) It was perfectly cooked, delicate and silken. We've had a grouper special , served with lumps of king crab on top (good), and a veal filet mignon that was good, but it was not as juicy as we had hoped.

The menu has a varied selection of classics (bouillabaisse, cannelloni al forno, wiener schnitzel), more fresh and saltwater specialties, grilled and sautéed specialties, all done in Rivero's style. In other words, nothing on the menu is ordinary.

The soft, old-fashioned (read that "very good") dinner rolls come from a Ligonier bakery. Side dishes might be a cabbage leaf stuffed with vegetables or tiny carrots with a touch of sweetness. Sometimes little red-skinned potatoes are on the entree plate, sometimes a square of soft, creamy semolina.

After you've eaten, if the waitress comes around with a tray of desserts, we've learned to say "No thanks. I'll have that Chambord Lily dessert with the chocolate-raspberry ice cream ball covered in chocolate and the Chambord sauce." It's the best.