Lunch with Betty: Salamandra

Lunch with Betty
One Woman's Relentless Search For Great Lunches

Salamandra
109 N. Hanover St., Carlisle
241-6133
Hours: Tues. – Sat., 11 a.m. – 11 p.m.

For weeks, Betty avoided the mid-town Carlisle restaurant touting “wood fired brick oven cuisine” called Salamandra just because it has a lizard painted on the window. Now, Betty’s no stranger to strange food, having eaten potato salad at Peter’s Place in Mechanicsburg that was so hot, Peter named it “Slap Yo Mama Potato Salad” and I’ve gorged on a platter at Tokyo Express with more raw fish than the Baltimore Aquarium, but I wasn’t ready to crunch into a wood-fired salamander. I’m being silly, but it is an exotic name, don’t you think?

Found out that Salamandra is simply the cutsie nickname that owner Sally Perrine has endured for many years and thought would make the perfect name for the perfect little food place. And perfect little food is just what Salamandra has.
The mouthwatering main fare includes “en salate,” which is Italian for salad, “panini,” Italian for sandwich, and “pizza,” which is Italian for, um, mmmmm good. We’ll get to that in a minute, though. First, you must know that the food is not the only superior element at Salamandra. Décor, service, and prices are striking, considerate, and respectable.

The main dining room is decked out in royal purple, the upper level in encouraging yellow. And Betty just loves the way her chunky-heeled shoes sounded on that gorgeous Italian tile floor, too. The furniture is oh-so charming yet contemporary with a rich wood and metal motif that made me feel like I was in a showroom.
Betty’s spot in the upper room was an ideal little nook. The deep color of the solid wood table was a dazzling canvas for the smart centerpieces featuring old-world glass carafes of yellow-green olive oil. From table to table, each of the uniquely shaped carafes was different. Betty liked that attention to detail. And at Salamandra, detail is all there is.

Take the silverware: it was wrapped artfully in a freshly cleaned and pressed linen napkin. When I unwrapped the cutlery, I realized how used to mediocre, spotty and uninspiring silverware I was. Firstly, the utensils actually had weight. The knife alone was easily eight ounces. Secondly, not a single spot was to be found. Nowhere. Even the water glass was spotless. The glass, silverware, in fact, all of the dishware was of the highest practical, aesthetic, and hygenic quality. It seems that Sally knows that the media through which the customer will enjoy the food had better be impeccable. Wish more places cared like Sally.

Betty finally looked up from the table. The wall torchieres and track lighting cast a softer indirect lighting but still brightened the room. There were a variety of other patrons. Work colleagues at lunch, loving couples, military folk, families, and, today, a little old woman were all part of the Salamandra social club. All were there for great food … Oh my, yes.

My choice of hot tea was presented in a compartmentalized, wooden Bigelow tea chest lined with blue velvet, which was whisked away once I was done. All of the menu items were in Italian and described in English that didn’t pat the food on the back. Betty wanted some pizza, as they call it. In a reasonable time she was served Arrostita di verdure, which means either “roasted veggies” or “you’ve only thought you had good pizza before.”

Fat, sweet tomatoes. Mozzarella that fought its strings from being bitten free. Zucchini and eggplant that were as delicately soft as the red onions were firm. Juicy roasted peppers. Fresh oregano and garlic that disintegrated in the mouth. Capers that lent the dish another dimension, even an intelligence. All this laying on a handmade crust and put into the oven. Put into the oven: such a small phrase for the phenomenon that occurs.

Oven, capitalized out of respect, is recessed into the back wall on the upper level, tiled with sea green Mediterranean tiles, and lit from above like an art museum’s prized piece. Oven, like perfect soil, has residual minerals, a dowry of tasty attributes to pass on, and the ability to nourish a seedling into a miracle of perfect food. In goes a tangle of ingredients and out comes an absolute food. A thing of joy. Oh, to be “put in the oven.”

Betty’s tongue kept thanking her by moaning in pleasure around mouthfuls of perfection. All this perfection for only $7. It all ended too quickly. The pizza was gone, but it was so amazing. Oh my, yes.

To continue the heavenly feeling, I agreed to dessert offered by my waiter Michael, a sweet, attentive young man who was not overly present or unavailable, but still kept my water glass filled. Soon, the decadent Apple Galette was presented. Flour dough with a bit of cornmeal was wrapped in a flower petal fashion around a Granny Smith apple (let’s draw no parallels to this reviewer), cinnamon sugar, and a sour cream sauce and then, of course, put into the oven. It is then drizzled with syrupy caramel sauce. If a satisfied smile were able to be cooked and served, it would be the Galette.

Salamandra is nothing but the best in simple, inexpensive dining. If ever you listened to Betty, go to Salamandra. Now. Thank me later.

P.S. Friday and Saturday nights are hideously crowded. So, go ahead, make an afternoon of it!