Paul M.
Google
Charlie Gitto’s on The Hill doesn’t just serve food; it orchestrates an experience. Tucked into St. Louis’s historic Italian neighborhood, the restaurant projects a sort of architectural illusion: from the street it looks like a modest establishment, but once inside, it unfolds room after room like a culinary labyrinth. The clinking of cutlery, the rhythmic shuffle of servers, and the sheer energy of the dining crowd all create a charged atmosphere, somewhere between neighborhood hangout and Italian opera.
Arriving early for a reservation might spell delay elsewhere, but here it meant a seamless welcome. Within minutes, I was seated, greeted by a server named Stephanie who brought over warm, crusty bread with an ease that set the tone for the rest of the evening.
Drinks began with the pepper berry ginger smash, a bold mocktail where five-berry purée mingles with hot honey and the effervescence of ginger beer. It’s not just a stand-in for a cocktail; it stands on its own with punchy layers and a bit of spice that lingers.
Now, when it comes to ordering, indecision often becomes inspiration. The team gladly curated a tasting spread, allowing a bite of everything without tipping into excess. First up: the legendary toasted ravioli, St. Louis’s own culinary origin story, supposedly born from a happy kitchen accident in the 1940s. Lightly breaded, fried just enough, and served with Pomodoro sauce, it delivers the kind of nostalgic satisfaction you want from something that’s become part of a city’s food identity.
Next came the CG signature shrimp, roasted in garlic butter and crowned with a layer of golden breadcrumbs. Sumptuous, aromatic, and indulgent without feeling heavy. Then the house meatball, tender and comforting, also bathed in that signature Pomodoro sauce.
Pastas were a highlight reel of Italian-American comfort. The Fiore Borghese stood out, a delicate, flower-shaped noodle swimming in a pink cognac sauce, flecked with prosciutto and onions. It felt both luxurious and playful. Rigatoni with house-made sausage brought the heat, balanced by the sweet tomato basil sauce. And the lasagna? A textbook tower of meat, cheese, and cream sauces, layered with intention.
But if there’s a dish that might win over even the skeptical, it’s the Veal Nunzio. Tender slices of veal blanketed with jumbo lump crab and kissed with lemon butter and cheese. It walks a fine line between richness and restraint and sticks the landing.
Charlie Gitto’s isn’t just another Italian restaurant; it’s the kind of place that holds its legacy close without being weighed down by it. Every plate tells a story, and every guest seems to become part of it. Whether you’re here for a quiet dinner or a deep dive into St. Louis culinary heritage, it’s a place that delivers far more than a meal. It delivers memory, eating dinner at Charlie Gitto's on the Hill.