Survival Tactics
by Kay West
While the rest of Church Street is being transformed into Central Parking City, Varallo’s Restaurant survives, a monument to tenacity. At the corner of Ninth and Church, it is as much a reminder of old Nashville as the Tennessee Theatre, the old Governor’s Mansion on West End, the roller coaster at the Fairgrounds, Father Ryan High School, and Candyland—except that all those landmarks have been torn down. Established in 1907 by Frank Varallo Sr. and touted as Nashville’s oldest restaurant, Varallo’s originally stood at the corner of Fifth and Broadway.
After a number of other moves, Varallo’s settled into its present location in 1949. Frank Varallo Sr. died in 1929, and his son, Frank Jr., took over the business. When Frank Jr. married Eva in 1937, he got a partner for life.
Frank Jr. and Eva are still on the job every day the restaurant is open—Monday through Saturday in the winter, Monday through Friday when the weather is warmer. Two of their four children, Todd and Tony, joined the business years ago, but in June 1994 the boys ran off to 239 Fourth Ave. N. to open Varallo’s Too.
For 15 years, I’ve passed by Varallo’s. Not once, in all those years, did I ever venture into Varallo’s and order a bowl of chili. Not once did I even look in the door—front or back—and just see what the place looked like inside.
As more and more Nashville treasures disappear, I’m feeling the need to get to know them before they go under the wrecking ball. I turned 40 this past January. Maybe I’m feeling the creep of expendability myself. There’s also the fact that the weather has finally turned cold, and the thought of a bowl of chili has once again become appealing. Even though “It’s always chile weather at Varallo’s,” I cannot imagine eating a bowl of three-way in July.
For a place so intrinsically Nashville, Varallo’s still doesn’t seem to be quite “from here,” as we like to say. The exterior, with its urban grittiness, evokes Chicago or Cincinnati or Pittsburgh. The interior, with its chopped-up rooms, vinyl tablecloths, framed black-and-white photos and wobbly wooden chairs, suggests a little joint in a big city.
One glance at the steam table brings you back down South in a hurry. Even though Varallo’s serves chili specialties, it is also a “meat and three.” Check out the veggies offered for a recent lunch: fresh candied yams, fresh turnip greens, creamed white corn, green pole beans and fresh mashed potatoes. The desserts included chocolate fudge, pecan, lemon icebox and chess pies, as well as the Varallos’ signature rice “puddin,” which sells out so quickly that it’s only guaranteed for early arrivals.
In the North, not many menus carry one blessing, much less the four—Roman Catholic, Protestant, Eastern Orthodox and Jewish— printed on the ecumenical cover of the Varallo’s menu.
The daily specials insert offers a “Thought of the Day,” no doubt the source of Frank Varallo’s 1994 book, Thoughts From the Bottom of a Chili Bowl. A timely example of Frank’s chili wisdom: “Just be glad you are not getting all the government you are paying for.”
The sters convened at Varallo’s at 1:30 on a Friday afternoon, long after the lunch rush had come and gone. The waitress brought our menus and utensils and took our drink requests—buttermilk sweet acidophilus are available. Separate checks are provided; you don’t even have to ask. The food arrives in minutes, good and hot.
There are two schools of thought on chili, or “chile” as Varallo’s spells it. There is the chili-with-beans school, and there’s the Texas version, beanless and decidedly more brown than red, probably because of all the beef.
Varallo’s chili, according to restaurant lore, is neither version. Instead, it’s the South American version, picked up by Frank Sr. while touring as a professional violinist. (I am not making this up.) Varallo’s chili does include beans—pinto beans—but it doesn’t seem to include any cumin, and it’s not the least bit spicy.
I assume Frank Sr. also got the idea for his infamous “Original 3 Way Chile” during his south-of-the-border travels. He adds a beef-stuffed tamale and then, as a nod to his Italian heritage, ladles the concoction over a plate of chopped-up spaghetti. Meanwhile, the spaghetti in the “Chile Mac” (just chile and spaghetti) is served full-length, as are the noodles in the Italian spaghetti. The recipe for the spaghetti sauce—or the “gravy,” as a true Italian would call it—came from Frank Jr.’s brother-in-law, Joe Zanini, who operated Zanini’s restaurant for many years.
We tried just about everything, including Eva’s vegetable soup, a delicious chicken broth with noodles, lima beans, onion, celery and other fresh veggies. The beef stew was satisfying, chock-full of beef, potatoes, celery, carrots, green pepper and onion. Like many of the other selections on the menu, the stew benefited from a bit of added seasoning—black pepper in some cases, a shot from the Tabasco bottle in others.
All Varallo’s vegetables are purchased at the nearby Farmer’s Market. The turnip greens even retained some semblance of their original texture, and we loved the navy beans, which had a reddish tint even before I added the Tabasco—paprika maybe? The green beans tasted just like the ham with which they were seasoned, and the mashed potatoes were creamy yet chunky. The pit barbecue was mushy and watery, as if it had been frozen. Everything was well-salted but surprisingly bland. Maybe that’s what Varallo’s customers want.
We were too late for the rice puddin’, but the pies were blue-ribbon winners, just sweet enough to satisfy our craving. The tab for six was $45.50.
Does it make sense to review a restaurant, or more accurately, an institution like Varallo’s? Maybe not. Some people might even consider it a waste of space to write about a restaurant that hasn’t changed a bit in 86 years. Those are probably the same people who are perfectly happy that the Tennessee Theatre has been replaced by a parking lot. Shame, shame on them. The rest of you, meanwhile, can get yourselves down to Varallo’s and order a “King Size 3 Way” while you still can. If you don’t, I promise, you’ll be sorry one day.
Varallo’s Restaurant is located at 817 Church St. (256-9109). Open 6 days a week during the winter for lunch, 10:30-2:30. No credit cards are not accepted, but they do take personal checks. All menu items are available to go, and Varallo’s even offers curb service—call ahead, and they’ll bring your food right out to the car. For non-downtowners, parking is available in the lot next door for just a buck —provided you have your ticket validated at the restaurant.
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