Juliano’s, Grantham: The Italian that would beat any rival in a shootout

And with holy cannoli to boot!

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

One of the most bizarre moments of Euro 2021 earlier this year, didn’t come about during a match, or even during the tournament. Nope, the day after the final, I strolled around the corner from my flat to find a lovely-looking heap of spaghetti bolognese splattered onto the pavement. Okay, it probably looked a tad more appealing before this sacreligious act had occurred, but clearly an England fan couldn’t bring themselves to eat it once that penalty shootout had ended. Maybe they would have done had it been cooked at Juliano’s.

More than six months on, this image was still in the back of my mind on the way to the latter, now regarded as Grantham’s premiere Italian restaurant. Competition was a tad more ferocious when Juliano’s was first established almost two decades ago, with the likes of Sorrento’s and Bella Italia on the scene. As with last month’s Knightingales review, let’s take a moment to reflect on legends of the genre lost.

One thing was for sure about tonight; no food would be wasted, let alone flung out of a window. What was less certain would be what the hell I was going to order. Under normal circumstances, in any establishment flying the green, white and red tricolore, I’d be going for a seafood starter and let nature dictate from there. But with Christmas round the corner, it was time to be a devil, throw tinsel to the wind, and step outside of my Kris Kringle comfort zone. Not only was yuletide beckoning, but I was also here to help celebrate a wedding anniversary, as well as banish memories of the turkey meatball ragu I’d rustled up at home the night before.

So Juliano’s was immediately under the microscope, and no sooner had I sat down and admired the traditional trattoria-style decor, than it was time to get down to the nitty-gritty. Incidentally, it’s the decor that sums Juliano’s up; understated and doesn’t try to be flash. It just goes politely about its business and plays to its strengths, without being extrovert. This is something the husband-and-wife team (husband is the chef, wife the maitre d’) have kept at the restaurant’s heart since they first opened for business.

So with my mind made up, and a few visits to Italy under my belt, it was time to put my pronunciation skills to the test. But no one likes a show-off, and as I uttered the words “peperoncino ripena”, it was difficult to tell if the waitress’s smile meant she was genuinely impressed or just being polite. Peperoncino ripena, for the uninitiated, is not to be be confused with pepperoni, that most popular of pizza toppings in America, but rather stuffed pepper. Anyway, I digress. This could have been a main meal in itself, without being overwhelming; in other words, quality and quantity in equal measure, which is harder than it sounds to pull off. With the amount of bechamel sauce covering the green pepper containing mince, it looks like I’ve finally stumbled upon lasagne’s mini-me.

With that for a starter, the seafoof baton was passed on to the main course: the floor was all yours, cioppino. Obviously the mussels were the star of the show here, with scallops, prawns, squid and salmon playing a vital understudy role. With a tomato sauce lovingly infused with pinot grigio, plus garlic ciabatta (always a bonus) accompanying the ensemble, it was a rich tapestry that never overpowered. This was so much of a magnificent, mind-blowing medley, that the cliché of how a dish could convert any seafood sceptic was never more justified. Incidentally, cioppino, with its origins harking back to San Francisco, is technically an Italian-American dish. This is another example of where Juliano’s charm is in its character. A more overtly Italian restaurant would’ve been too proud to include such an ‘imposter’ on its menu.

And dessert? Some of us were up for it, some of us weren’t, so what do you do in a situation like this? Cannoli all round! Now, I’ve sampled these sweet treats on my travels to the old country and, due to their mention on some old movie called The Godfather, I’d built my hopes up and been left slightly underwhelmed. Whether this was to do with the weight of expectation, I still don’t know, but the ones at Julianos? Nothing underwhelming here, which explains the no-show where a photo’s concerned – no sooner had the smartphone been whipped out, than they’d disappeared.

Whether you choose to look at the lack of pictorial evidence as a sign of great food or just slack photo journalism, I hope there’s enough in this review to convince you of Juliano’s brilliance. I hope my next visit comes along very soon, as much as I hope not to see a spaghetti-spattered pavement should there be an England penalty defeat at next year’s World Cup.