Milano Cafe is a European Haven in Austin

Let’s work backwards: I don’t usually get dessert, but when they bring you a tiny plate with four bites of four different desserts, you don’t refuse. And when charming owner Sami Demi proceeds to tell you how Croatian tirimisu has 1/4 the calories of other tirimisus, and you don’t even like tirimisu, but you try this tirimisu and it melts in your mouth with cold, silky goodness, you eat it. For 1/4 the calories of other tirimisus. Sami says his mom always said “Tirimisu is only good when you can eat half the cake!”

The other desserts, in clockwise order, included Kadaif, an authentic Egyptian dessert reminiscent of those “birds nest” treats parents used to give their kids in the ’90s, but flavored with honey. Crunchy and chewy and good, bottom line. Then there was a chocolate cake sort of thing with the smoothest chocolate mousse-esque top I’ve ever eaten. And despite my dislike for it, I even ate the cheesecake, which wasn’t so cheesy in this iteration as it was mild, which I enjoyed.

Now that we’ve eaten dessert first, let me tell you how I found Milano Cafe, a European haven off Southwest Parkway in a strip mall next to a Subway. A reader wrote in telling me that I absolutely had to try the place, and his Russian wife swears it tastes like home (in the broadest sense of home), or at least as good as they used to eat in New York City, which may well have better food representing the countries it comes from than the countries themselves. I digress.

So who am I to turn down a culinary adventure? My first step into Milano Cafe puts my strip-mall judgment to rest, as the clean, comfy furniture of a coffeehouse greets me on one side, buttressed by small, cozy tables on the other. We head to the counter. Michael (my-reader-turned-Milano-referral-god) and Marina (the Russian who approves) swear the pastries are awesome and the crepes are giant and delicious and the specials are great and …

Owner Sami, who shares the joint with wife Giki and Nick (last name?), comes over excitably and opens a glass case of spinach and mushroom pastries, urging me to take one. I haven’t eaten “white” carbs in at least two months, people. I politely refuse, but he continues, so I give in. Soft, tissue-papery dough melts into my mouth, spinach flavoring it just enough.

For lunch, I order the eggplant parmesan, but chef John (?), poached from a fancy NYC kitchen, comes out of this kitchen and admonishes that I MUST try the cannelloni. I ask about its meat content. He explains that they get their meat fresh every day. From where? Sam’s. I think this is something that’s lost in translation–in Europe, where all of these friendly folks are from, they don’t have un-free-range-cows. They don’t factory farm. So to them, going to Sam’s every morning to buy the meat means they’re getting fresh meat. So you’ve got to give them credit. And I agreed to a small sample of cannelloni if he’d still make me my eggplant parm.

Fresh/locavore alert: they get all of their vegetables from a friend’s farm (local) and their herbs from Sami and Giki’s backyard.

I order a latte and it’s perfect: rich, dark, not too milky, with the tawny creme atop the espresso. The beans are all Brazilian. So this place could stand alone as a coffeeshop. They’re sort of an Italian restaurant as it is, but more than just ‘Italian,’ more all-encompassing with the term European. Anyway, when the cannelloni comes, a “sample” sized the way a normal European serving would be, I’m blown away. The pasta is beyond anything I’ve ever tasted. That’s not true, I’ve eaten pasta in Italy that tasted like this. But not since has any pasta tasted this fresh, pliable and perfectly al dente, soft. Sami says they handmake all their pasta, always wet, and they order flour from Italy because the American flour is either too high or low in gluten.

The tomato sauce around the cannelloni is also delicious, fresh and light, with a delicious sprinkling of little veggies. I’m full, but when my eggplant parmesan arrives, I dig in. It’s roasted eggplant sitting in a sauce of tomato, parmesan, and mozzarella. It’s amazing. And not fried. Or breadcrumb-encrusted. I’m so happy, I eat the whole eggplant. And then I groan about how I can’t move and I need a nap. And then I remember that there’s a little salad with beans served on the side, and I can’t in the name of journalism not try the little salad, so I eat that too, with its sweet dressing.

Here’s a picture of the third special of the day (cannelloni and eggplant parm being the other two), the sundried tomato pasta. Sami forced me to try a bite, although by that point literally all I could do is put one noodle on my fork and tell him I tried it. But what a delicious noodle it was.

Then, of course, we’re back to dessert. Divine.

The charm of the owners (Giki, shy and quiet with a sweet smile, who was behind the counter when I went, and Sami, a boisterous, happy character with a big grin) plus the absolute absurd deliciousness of the food makes Milano Cafe a new fave of mine. I only wish it was closer to my house/not next to a Subway/had free-range meat! But for now, it’ll do.

Right now they’re BYOB. They also have live music at night (not sure which nights exactly). Check it out: 4601 Southwest Parkway Ste 109 / Austin, TX 78735 / (512) 428-6076 / Yelp Review