I first came to St. Louis in the late August of 1966 to attend Saint Louis University. I was born in San Francisco and grew up in San Mateo, California. St. Louis was a big change, especially the humidity.
After a couple of weeks on campus, I heard of a restaurant called Garavelli's a few blocks over on Olive Street. A friend told me, "Try the toasted ravioli." I'm Italian on both sides. I have eaten a good amount of ravioli and once spent a whole day with my mother, my aunt and a couple of cousins making several different types of ravioli. Naturally, I was intrigued when he said "toasted" ravioli. I had never heard of it before, so I decided to give it a try.
When I walked into Garavelli's for the first time, I was struck by the restaurant itself. On the right side was a bar that ran almost all the way to the end of the room. Along the left side were several booths and then a long steam table from which the food was served. You would walk to the end of the steam table where the register was, grab a tray (it was cafeteria style), and choose what you wanted as you moved back down the line. There were large hams and big chunks of roast beef that they would carve to make sandwiches, all types of salads, hot dogs and sausages, a pretty good variety of choices.
When I got my tray, I told the cashier I wanted a "toasted ravioli". He hit an intercom switch and said, "One TR." As I waited for my order, I again glanced around the room. Above the steam table on the side wall were two very large paintings of Western scenes, cowboys on horses. I was told later that the artwork was owned by Gussie Busch and loaned to the restaurant years before. I don't know if it's true or not, but that was what I was told. Above the bar was a second floor with booths front to back. "This is a great place," I thought. "I like it."
Finally, my toasted ravioli arrived. It was unlike any ravioli dish I had ever seen. There were six plain meat ravioli that were actually toasted, with parmesan cheese sprinkled over the top and melted butter ladled over the cheese. The cooks must have thrown it back under a broiler because the cheese-butter combination on top was crusted.
When I saw the dish, I thought, "This has possibilities." The ravioli was served with a cup of Bolognese sauce (a meat sauce originating in the city of Bologna, Italy). "This looks even better." Then, I tasted my first toasted ravioli. "Wow, this is one of the best things I have ever eaten!" How come I had never heard of this before? Turns out, it originated in St. Louis. It became my go-to order whenever I went to Garavelli's.
Sadly, Garavelli's on Olive Street closed sometime in the mid-'70s, not sure when. "That's OK," I thought. "I'll just go to another Garavelli's to get my TR fix."
It was then that I learned a sad truth. Even though there were several Garavelli's in St. Louis, they were all separate operations. I could not find one that made toasted ravioli the same way as the Olive Street location. Even worse, what most restaurants call toasted ravioli today is nowhere near what I had originally tasted. What you get most of the time is breaded ravioli that is fried or deep fried and served with marinara, a basic tomato sauce. To me it's like chuck steak versus filet mignon. What happened, St. Louis? What happened to real toasted ravioli? If there is any restaurant that can make a TR the way the Olive Street Garavelli's made them, let me know. I will be a very grateful customer.
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