DINING The taste of Tuscany Franco’s Italian Caffé takes tradition and delivers it to Scottsdale By MICHAEL GOSSIE // Photos by MIKE MERTES
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generally wince when someone suggests an Italian restaurant. I grew up in an Italian family and never saw my grandmother open a can. I never saw her open a box. When she made her “gravy,” she started with tomatoes. When she made her pasta, she started with flour. So nearly every time I go to an Italian restaurant, I’m reminded of a classic “Goodfellas” line: “I ordered some spaghetti with marinara sauce and I got egg noodles and ketchup.” But one day, the sky opened and a beam of light — I’m assuming it was the spirit of Grandma Gossie — led me to the homeland: Franco’s Italian Caffé in Scottsdale. Franco’s is the creation of Tuscan-born Franco Fazzuoli, who had three wildly popular Italian restaurants in Phoenix starting in the 1980s before leaving the Valley in 2006 to follow his daughters to New York, where they were studying ballet. While in New York, he opened a well-received Italian restaurant in Greenwich Village. “I wanted to sell my part of the restaurant and come back to Arizona sooner,” Fazzuoli says in his thick Italian
24 AB | January-February 2014
LEFT: Linguini and clams RIGHT: Franco Fazzuoli and his daughter Leela
accent, “but they wouldn’t pay me what it was worth because they told me, ‘Without you, it’s not worth anything.’” Luckily for Valley diners, Franco is back. Here is what struck me: ➤ Franco’s creates the perfect blend of traditional and progressive. The pastas are all homemade, but they are created in a spectacular fashion that even I have never experienced. ➤ The staff — including Franco himself, who greeted us at the door and made every guest in the intimate establishment feel like they were the most important customer he has ever had — has an impeccable knowledge food and wine, the intricacies of Italian tradition and what makes each dish worth trying. ➤ The intimate and friendly atmosphere complements Fazzuoli's cuisine perfectly. I remember when people would ask my grandmother what she put into her sauce that made it so robust and flavorful. “Pazienza,” she would say. Patience. That simple world — the lesson that is passed down from generation to generation in Italy — is what makes Franco’s stand atop meatball mountain in Arizona. Fazzuoli has mastered the art
of taking fresh ingredients, respecting tradition and having the discipline and patience to allow those ingredients to speak directly to our taste buds. Here is where it gets difficult for me: I’m supposed to recommend dishes for you to try. I’m supposed to take a critical eye and dissect the menu items so you can have some guidance when you go to Franco’s. But I can’t. EVERYTHING is superb. So do what I did: Go to Franco’s with a group of friends and have everyone order something different. Ask for an extra plate if you need to and then sample everything. I guarantee that the parade of palate pleasers will have you scrambling for a thesaurus so you can figure out different ways to say, “Wow.” As for me, I want to believe that leading me to Franco’s was Grandma Gossie’s way of gifting me with a slice of heaven, lovingly presented on a perfect white plate. Or, in my case, about a dozen empty white plates. Franco’s Italian Caffé 4327 N. Scottsdale Road 480.481.7614 francosscottsdale.com