Pasta Bella
5913 15th Ave. N.W.
(206) 789-4933
www.pastabellaseattle.com
Monday-Saturday: 4:30 p.m. - 10 p.m.
Sunday: 4 p.m. - 9 p.m.

Pasta Bella's spaghetti has called out to us for all 20 years they've been open.

In the early-90s we couldn't resist the thin, al dente pasta, rich red sauce and beautiful meatballs sitting astride the marvelous mound of magic.

We got locked into some repeat behaviors, almost always teaming the spaghetti and meatballs with linguine con vongole (whole clams, a smooch of butter and lots of pepper).

Dang, even writing this gets us going.

We also loved the value pricing, the well-spent $1 upgrade for the Caesar salads, and the roasted garlic cloves with the crusty bread.

Then things seemed to slip away for Pasta Bella, and the mid-90s brought rough waters for our relationship with the establishment.

Though we lived close by, our fondness was tested repeatedly, until we parted, pondering what was, and what was not.

What caused this separation?

Being rushed through a birthday dinner, with our server practically drinking the wine himself to empty the bottle and get us out, started the tailspin.

A subsequent family dinner went awry when all the food arrived for our group of eight, except for the youngest diner, our 4-year-old nephew, who burst into tears after already having been tested by a long wait and now the injustice of being the only one not to have a plate food in front of him.

So for many years, Pasta Bella was invisible to us. We'd drive by, comment on the silly and even offensive life-size malt-shop babes on the coffee shop next door, on the church goings-on at St. Al's, on the big-board sales and Pancake Breakfasts advertised on Ballard Market's sign. On almost anything but Pasta Bella.

It was sad, like it wasn't even there.

Recently, we got to reflecting one night about the great meals we'd had on so many occasions there. What the heck, we thought; another Pasta Bella visit is overdue.

Possibly time could heal the wounds, even salve the memories of a neglected 4 year old.

We returned on a weeknight and were greeted by a waiter with a kind face, an empathetic but reserved manner and the ability to listen.

We sensed good luck when he clearly was tuned in to our silent glances as we scouted for desirable seats, with his intuition guiding us to exactly the table we wanted.

Even with a crowded house to serve, his crisp yet friendly demeanor won us over immediately. "Well" we thought, "how about this?"

Water and drinks appeared quickly and with little fanfare. Upselling was completely absent, as was any hint of obsequious and phony-baloney "Oh that is an excellent choice, that is my favorite as well" schtick.

When bread arrived, we asked if they still had the baked garlic cloves. Without a pause, our new best buddy noted "Certainly madame, I will bring it right out."

Maybe they don't even feature the baked garlic anymore, but that didn't faze him. He heard our request, decided promptly that he could fulfill it, and returned in short order with a small bowl of roasted garlic cloves.

The cloves were not present on the other tables, but his adaptable, diner-driven focus had us in full appreciation mode.

As we watched him move throughout the venue, our respect for him grew. The same sincere, efficient, euro-accented, quietly brisk style moved him from table to table nimbly and without a visible wake.

We breathed in the rare and beautiful sensation of a dining room full of very happy people.

There's something special about sharing space with other content diners. It makes the food taste better, gives the wine more body, makes the bread a touch fresher.

Special lining up of the stars was definitely on for this visit.

And the Polpette di Carne con L’Aglio (jumbo meatballs made with ground sirloin, Italian sausage, garlic, herbs and parmesan cheese), $11.95, didn't hurt.

T'was just like the old days, with thick red marinara sauce covering a plate of exquisitely cooked noodles.

Linguine con Pollo Agrodolce (boneless chicken breast sautéed with rosemary, apricots, onions and green apples, served in mango-chutney tomato sauce with caramelized roasted walnuts) with firm vegetables over linguine, $14.95, was as stunning as the description.

Deserts looked promising but were deemed overkill; wines were decent. But, the draw on this night was the waiter and the fragrant, hot food he served.

It's nice to have a chance to spend time with a long-lost friend.

The Ballard Food Police visit all establishments anonymously and pay for all food and drink in full. Know anything we should know? Tell the Ballard Food Police at ballardfoodpolice@gmail.com.