Stuck to My Ribs: An Italian Feast at Grassi's West

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Maybe by the time you've made your way to the front, you've been swayed to go with a pasta con broccoli, spaghetti with meatballs, lasagna or even a nine-inch pizza. The chefs at Grassi's won't garner any awards for overly creative dishes, but if it's a well-executed traditional Italian feast you're seeking, chances are high that you'll leave happy.

As with most diners here, the first thing to hit my tray was a generous salad drenched in dressing and dominated by the intense flavor of the brine-soaked green olives sprinkled throughout. It served as a perfect complement to my main course this Wednesday afternoon, the Becky Debby, a crisp-fried chicken parmesan sandwich flanked by its trusty sidekick, a puddle of meaty marinara for dipping.

The whole package may not be pretty, but presentation is an afterthought at a place where the décor consists of beer mirrors and church pews. But the crowd isn't here for the rustic ambiance. We're here to stuff ourselves full of enough old-fashioned Italian cafeteria grub to ensure that the second half of the day is suitably unproductive.

And on my numerous visits, Grassi's West has always managed to deliver that much. You just may need a Street Guide and a Garmin to get there.

Josh Bacott reports on his journey through one of the unhealthiest cities in the good ol' USA every other Friday. Because who says calories have to count?