Scenes from an Italian Restaurant

Margie’s Italian Gardens, 9805 Camp Bowie Blvd West, Fort Worth. 817-244-4301. 4-9pm Tue-Thu, 4-10pm Fri-Sat.

Driving to Margie’s Italian Gardens in far west Fort Worth had me humming Billy Joel’s 1977 paean to memory and loss, set in an Italian restaurant. You know, the one where he sings, “You can never go back there again.” The long drive up Camp Bowie West with my family of four was actually the first hurdle in getting to the property, which was renovated by the Westland Group earlier this year (after Westland’s dynamic duo of Gigi Howell and Bourke Harvey got done saving Pulido’s). The second was the actual parking lot. Even landing smartly before 5pm on a Saturday, the paved lot was full, and the overflow lot seemed to be a bridge between Margie’s and neighbor JD’s, also owned by the Westland Group.

The good news is that Margie’s is a lot larger inside than what you’d believe looking at the exterior of the whitewashed brick building. My party of four was seated right away and offered water before we had time to consider the jar of pencil-thin breadsticks and garlic butter on the table. You can get a bottle of red or a bottle of white or a perfect frozen peach bellini complete with thinly sliced peaches at the bottom of the icy glass. Even if you’re not a peach schnapps fan, the gently fruity, not overwhelming peach flavor was a hit on the first day of summer (and probably every day until it freezes). The Italian margarita was equally delightful –– if you’re thinking limoncello, you’re in for a surprise. I wouldn’t have guessed the combo of tequila, amaretto, and sherry would have worked magic, but it was heaven with a salty rim.

My family’s Italian cuisine experience comes not from the Old Country but from Long Island and two of the five boroughs. I guess that’s the same space that Margie, of blessed memory, occupied here in Texas as a first-gen immigrant. Fried calamari usually comes with an aioli or a marinara sauce, and an order includes squiggly little tentacles. The calamari appetizer dropped in front of us looked like fried cheese sticks from a chain restaurant. The long, rectangular calamari tubes tasted just fine and not rubbery. The accompanying sweet/spicy orange chile sauce paired surprisingly well with the appetizer.

The menu is simple and includes both American Italian faves and real-deal Italian classics. Shrimp scampi paired with angel hair pasta was barely garlicky, with only a whisper of red pepper flake on the half-dozen shrimp. And the pasta was gluey and inedible. A build-your-own pizza with mushrooms, anchovies, and red sauce was eagerly anticipated, but the reality of the salty fish made the dish unpalatable. Yes, anchovies are salty, but the visible salt is usually removed with water or wine anywhere I’ve ever eaten anchovies. Even after picking around the fish, the salt content of the pizza was robust.

Margie’s menu gets points for three versions of piccata (chicken, veal, and trout) and three versions of parmesan (chicken, eggplant, and veal). Finding anything other than chicken piccata is a treat. The trout piccata was beautifully plated with angel hair pasta, fresh lemon, and capers but lacked any substantial seasoning –– perhaps passing an anchovy over might have helped. Again, the pasta was gluey and inedible despite the presence of a fresh, lemony sauce.

Dinner was redeemed by the huge serving of chicken parm, perfectly breaded and served with a slightly sweet marinara and spaghetti. Producing a perfectly fried giant butterflied chicken breast can be dicey, but perhaps Margie’s looking over the kitchen staff because this version is easily the best in the county.

Since two of the carbivores didn’t have their pasta, dessert was a necessity. The New York cheesecake is not house-made but “imported from Little Italy,” according to our server Sammi. It was perfection on a plate –– fluffy but firm, dense, and perfectly sweet-tart. The accompanying blackberry coulis was outstanding, plate-scraping goodness. Spumoni is one of the things we associate with our Italian memories, and my Long Island-born mama hadn’t had spumoni ice cream in years. As it turns out, the spumoni was Henry’s, imported from Plano. There was nothing to mock about the creamy deliciousness of the delicate cherry, creamy vanilla, and light pistachio combo. Three Funkytown Donut cream-filled holes accompanied the ice cream as an extra treat.

The service at Margie’s was absolutely impeccable. All the servers take care of one another, and if yours is busy with another table, someone else brings out the appetizer or mains. Margie’s was part of the core food memories of Westland Group restaurateurs Howell and Harvey. There’s nothing wrong with wanting something you love to continue to flourish. At 6:30 when we departed, the place was packed with older folks who plainly knew Margie when she was alive and younger families who likely had relatives who loved this restaurant. Nothing I write is going to dent their joy for this place’s survival.

Margie’s Italian Gardens
Italian margarita or frozen peach bellini $11
Calamari $14
Shrimp scampi $26
Chicken parmesan $24
Trout piccata $27
Build-your-own pizza $15
New York cheesecake $10
Henry’s spumoni $10