A Softer, Gentler Plate

Madeleine Connors consumes 780 meatballs (sentimental) at the Garibaldina Pasta Platter in Highland Park.

By Madeleine ConnorsNovember 13, 2024

PASTA PLATTER, Garibaldina MB Society, Los Angeles, October 24, 2024.

“As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster,” says Ray Liotta in the opening scene of Goodfellas (1990). Thankfully, I’m less ambitious. I’m also not Italian. As far back as I can remember, I’ve wanted to share rigatoni with friends—maybe dance with a stranger while a band plays behind me. To my delight, that is precisely what the monthly Pasta Platter at the Garibaldina MB Society in Highland Park delivers.

“It’s like a wedding with no bride and groom,” a friend told me about the event. The event, which takes place at the headquarters of the L.A. Italian heritage society founded in 1877, promises a night of dancing, live music, and pasta. With a reasonable entry price of $40, it’s become one of the hottest tickets in town. The event sells out in days, bustling with people of all ages who want to cosplay as Carmela Soprano in a kitschy, faded-glamour ballroom.

Even without a bride, the evening still maintains an aura of romance: walls splashed in a pink patterned wallpaper, chandeliers overhanging a dance floor, tables lined with green and red checkered tablecloths. It’s almost dreamlike, like the set of a Martin Scorsese movie. It’s easy to imagine Sharon Stone, martini glass in hand, slinking onto the dance floor in a sequin dress. As the ballroom fills up, smiling older people in Halloween costumes and glittering tops take their seats. Everyone I speak to is overwhelmingly generous, as if I’ve teleported to a softer, gentler place than Los Angeles.

As dinner is served, some friends and I discuss pasta shapes. We like fusilli, don’t care for bow tie. The first course is a salad followed by pasta and meatballs. The president of the club makes sentimental announcements over a microphone. “We made 780 meatballs for tonight!” she declares proudly to applause. Our table agrees that the pasta is perfectly al dente. After dinner, the dance floor erupts into charming chaos, with people of all ages twirling across the floor.

I speak to an older man named Joe, a new member of the Italian social club. He swears that he knows me from somewhere. “The Magic Castle?” he guesses. No, not the Magic Castle. I playfully ask him if he’s Italian. “Only by marriage,” he retorts with a smile. The club has recently begun to admit non-Italian members, which excites me. I’m tempted to join in on the fun. He extols the events and activities at the Garibaldina Club and invites me to tour the bocce ball court.

Later, I enter the bar with my friend Mari, who I believe to be the most amusing and fun-loving person in Los Angeles. The bar feels like a time capsule, reminding me of the ominous Gold Room from The Shining (1980). There is a martini glass filled with dice on the bar and worn paintings of ships on the wall. The bartenders sport snappy red vests. One bartender offers my cool, beautiful friend cigarettes from a bowl, some of the cigarettes are movie props. Intrigued, we inspect them. The bartender explains that the bar is only open a few days a month. “What a shame,” we groan. Otherwise, we would be there every night. Our bartender tells his fellow bartender that we would like the bar to be open seven days a week. He eyes us with a wary look. “To let girls like you in here? No chance,” he says with a smirk. We throw our hands up in faux protest, whining at these wise guys—I wish I could stay forever.

¤

Photo by contributor.

LARB Short Takes live event reviews are published in partnership with the nonprofit Online Journalism Project and the Independent Review Crew.