Spaghetti with asari (clams), shirauo (little white fish) and arugula at Pizzeria Matsuhisa in Denenchofu, Tokyo. Someday, I will open a wafu (Japanese-style) pasta shop in Oakland.

Remember when I said I started making my own pizza because I hadn’t found any in Los Angeles that really fit the bill? Well I am happy to report that this is no longer the case. Not only does it seem like the urban food movement is making its way through a wood-fired revival, but the cropping up of new Neapolitan pizza restaurants in Southern California is a sure sign of a very promising future.

Mother Dough in Los Feliz, one of the more gentrified hipster communities of LA, is a prime example. First, they successfully set out to provide genuine, authentic Neapolitan pizza. Then they raised the bar with killer wines, incredible salads, excellent Italian and German beers, and of course, simple and rustic desserts with things like crème fraiche and hazelnut oil.

Sünner Kölsch–medium bodied lager, a bit grassy in flavor, nice aroma, sweet to start, crisp to finish.

So what exactly is “authentic” Neapolitan pizza? There’s actually an official association in Napoli that governs this stuff called Verace Pizza Napoletana Associazione (VPN) and it states that you can only use the following ingredients in your pizza that we know as the Margherita:

- Doppio Zero or Double Zero ‘00’ flour (extremely fine, high gluten)
- Mozzarella di Bufala Campana (regional buffalo’s milk mozzarella)
- San Marzano tomatoes (grown in the soil of Mt. Vesuvius)
- Basil
- Parmigiano Reggiano
- Sea Salt and a little olive oil as a drizzle and NOT in the dough

Mother Dough’s menu even has a slightly facetious FAQ on the backside for those who want to know why the consistency and simplicity of their pizza doesn’t match the typical Pizza Hut combination pizza loaded with toppings in extra large form. The menu itself is minimal but excellent, making it very difficult to choose.

Raw Marcona almonds with lemon juice and sea salt

You will very likely see this salad on everyone’s table because it is only one of two salads offered and, in my opinion, you could put burrata on an old tennis shoe and it would still be a big seller. This is Mother Dough’s burrata salad atop heirloom tomatoes and arugula. Great salt, citrus, and spice.

At this time I would like to go on the record that I really do not like zucchini. I don’t want to say hate because it’s a strong word but I would go as far as to say partially loathe. There is only one form in which zucchini exhibits any redeeming qualities and that is on Mother Dough’s zucchini pizza.  Just a bit of manchego cheese, delicate shoe strings of zucchini topped with dried herbs like oregano and thyme, and finished with drizzles of olive oil on that unmistakable wood-fired charred chewy crust.

Then of course, the pièce de résistance, the apple of my eye, the pot of gold at the end of my own personal rainbow, La Margherita with its perfectly placed mozzarella and sweet, salty sauce.

That very slight hint of gaminess from the buffalo comes through in taste and aromatics, and the fresh basil is slightly cooked but still raw enough to prevent any bitterness.

When the dough goes into the oven, the entire pie is uniformly thin but the most fascinating thing to me about these high temperature wood-fired ovens is that these pizzas cook in less than two minutes, sometimes closer to even 60 seconds. Mother Dough’s oven is imported from Napoli and cooks at about 850˚F. The ambient heat is so hot that the entire thing cooks quickly at once, as opposed to the home oven where par-barking the plain dough first is recommended. The charring of the pizza is almost like a caramelization where a sweetness comes out that makes the whole crust taste like toasted marshmallows.

Imported handmade oven from Napoli

It is safe to say that my quest to find the ultimate Neapolitan Margherita has been fulfilled with Mother Dough but I feel a sense of duty to the people to continue to seek out top contenders. If you have any that you’d like to throw in the ring, let me know!

Next time: Grilled flatbread and pizza accoutrements!

I’ve tried making gnocchi in the past, but the whole thing dissolved while boiling, so it was a complete failure. Since then, I haven’t even thought about making it again.

A few weeks ago, I pondered what I would make for a small gathering. I really wanted to eat beef stroganoff. I looked around for some starch ideas to accompany the beef, and came upon pumpkin gnocchi. With a bit of skepticism (and a back-up of regular pasta, just in case it failed), I decided to tackle gnocchi once again.

INGREDIENTS

2 cups pureed kabocha pumpkin
1 egg yolk
1 1/2 – 2 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 pinch nutmeg (optional)

Original recipe said to us canned pumpkin, but I bought a huge kabocha, and decided to use it instead.

When cutting kabocha, or other winter squashes, be very careful, since the skin is quite tough. Cut it into thin-ish slices, and either steam them or nuke them, as I always do. Incorporating the microwave into cooking is something I’ve started to do. In Japan, busy moms use the microwave in such creative ways, I was very amazed.  You can buy a silicon microwave cooking container, in which you can make pilaf, curry, and even al dente pasta. It’s pretty amazing.

When microwaving, be sure you tightly seal the container with saran wrap. Japanese saran wraps come very handy here since they seal so well. I nuked the kabocha for about eight minutes. It will become very hot, so be careful when handling it.

Mash up the kabocha.

YAMAHOMO TIP: Kabocha skin is totally edible and has a lot of nutrition in it, so try to incorporate it into your recipe whenever you can.

Mix the kabocha with flour, egg yolk, salt, and knead it until it’s manageable. The dough will be very sticky in the beginning, so keep adding flour to the mixture until you can knead it without the dough sticking to your fingers.

Once you can form a ball, cut it into fourths, and roll it out into a thin strip.

Cut these into little bite-size pieces, and press fork to add the gnocchi shape. Or if you have a gnocchi board (a wooden tool to make gnocchi indentations), use it to make more professional-looking markings.

Boil gnocchi pieces for about three minutes or until it floats.

I thought gnocchi-making would be a lot more complicated, but this was so easy and worked out super great. It was a nice color, and tasted like kabocha. The beef stroganoff was made with fat-free sour cream, but it tasted just fine.

For dessert, I served my signature black sesame macarons.

Ahhhh the life of a food journalist. The repeat and multiple visits to restaurants of all shapes and sizes, booze and food paid for by expense accounts, all in the name of research. I remember reading a review by Frank Bruni about Per Se, Thomas Keller’s New York sibling to French Laundry. I was so envious, that not only did he get to go there once (at the time it was virtually impossible to get through to the reservation line, let alone an actual reservation) but he went back, multiple times, allowing him to firmly establish his opinion about the place.

I’m not complaining, I’ve been lucky enough to eat well and work in one of the loveliest boutique restaurants in Manhattan, which allowed me to cultivate my own opinions about food and educated me on the basics of kitchen etiquette and culinary terminology (“Tonight we are serving seasonal spring ramps as a side dish or to accompany the whole grilled dorade.”What is a ramp? “A ramp is a spring onion, similar to a leek. Has almost an herbal quality to it…).

So not to bore you with my hyper-enthusiasm, and inability to discuss taste and flavor in a coherent manner, let me say this: The Tasting Kitchen in Venice is fucking awesome. The drinks, the food, the service, the non-descript sign adorning the front of the restaurant, the young chef, friendly and conversational with my co-diners, everything was just better than it had to be, making it a special place.

The bar was crowded with people scouring the boutique, custom drink menu, full of “signature,” floral cocktails, homemade soda pops and custom garnishes.

I was getting sick and ordered one of these signature drinks, made with Tequila, Serrano peppers and lime.

Though I’m generally underwhelmed by mixologists’ concoctions, this drink is the exception to that ideology. It was incredible. If this says anything about the drink, I would revisit The Tasting Kitchen, if only for that cocktail, which, was not even close to the best thing I consumed that night.

We sat down and looked over the dinner menu. There is a “Regular Dinner” option, which is essentially a tasting of the most seasonal and popular dishes selected by the chef.

The only caveat with this option, is that the entire table has to participate. The pussies I was eating with feared that the kitchen might send us something we wouldn’t like, so we opted to order à la carte.

Per our earlier discussion with the chef, we ordered a special prosciutto and 3 cheeses (all cow) to start.

We also ordered a butter lettuce salad, garnished with blue cheese, radish and tarragon that was outrageously awesome.

For drinks, we chose a bottle of Spanish white wine, similar to the summer favorite, Albariño. It was reasonably priced, crisp and delicious.

Next, we redundantly ordered another salad, this one served with burrata cheese, prosciutto and long green beans, which were tossed in finely chopped peanuts.

Holy shit man, the is one of the most elegant and exciting dishes I’ve ever tasted. The burrata was creamy and full of flavor, neither too milky nor bland like they can be. You could enjoy the beans alone, however, served with the salt and oil of the prosciutto and the fat of burrata, the dish stands out as incredible.

As a mid-course we ordered two pasta dishes. I’m generally unimpressed by pasta; I mean, how many ways can you make it, right? (Um like a million, stupid). But these small plates of carbohydrates were delicious. The classic, hollow buccatini tasted like it was made by a Venetian grandmother, garnished with the perfect amount of spice.

The other pasta dish was “Loops” and foie gras. I’ve never heard of “Loops,” morbidly described as little nooses, but I imagine if it were sold by the box at Trader Joe’s, it would be a perfect base for a grown up, Goth-inspired mac and cheese.

The foie gras torchon was added as a finishing element and melted through the pasta like butter. Insane.

The halibut, served with beans and crème, was the main course. People loved this dish and ordered it at all of our surrounding tables. It was delicious– however, it stood out least amongst everything else we gluttonously consumed.

Finally came dessert. Our awesome server Maxwell suggested the sticky toffee pudding and seasonal peach gallette, which he described with impressive detail and clarity. We’ll take it! (Then I ordered another tequila drink, which is most likely why I don’t really remember dessert).

Fellow diners, boozers and Pacific Northwest enthusiasts should be thrilled to know that Maxwell is the GM of this fine establishment and his knowledge and excitement about everything on the menu is not only delightful, but inspiring.

I just read a review about the difference between great restaurants and extraordinary restaurants (the latter generally developing over time), in tandem with “prolonged artistic risk and managerial attention.” While I’m not sure that the cuisine at The Tasting Kitchen can yet be defined as “artistically risky,” it definitely embraces an artistic approach to food while never compromising the taste of the dish for its composition.

Now that I mentioned Maxwell, I’d like to double back to the other necessary ingredient of a great restaurant: “managerial attention.” A crucial and essential component to the performance quality and production value of a high functioning restaurant is the management. Herein lie the details, the style and the aesthetic tastes that look outwards to those whose palates aren’t yet refined enough to notice the lavender finish of the pre-dinner cocktail.

I do agree with the aforementioned reviewer’s proclamation, however, for a great dining experience for me is where everything comes together just right; where the food, the ambiance, the drinks and the service all harmonize with one another in both organic and choreographed ways.

Perhaps one day the Times will pick up my tab for this sort of dining experience. But until then, I can practice the routine of revisiting a restaurant multiple times to validate my initial feelings about it, and that’s why I’m going back to The Tasting Kitchen tonight.

(Note the menu is out of date as it changes often, however it gives you a good idea what to expect.)

*Photos by Thomas Young.

Just got back from a long weekend in NYC. The trip killed me. I ran around all day, tried to see everyone, ate and drank myself into a tizzy, and literally collapsed in exhaustion.

It made me feel old.

That said, it really is an incredible city for eating. Like anywhere, there are some major misses, but the hits really make you forget about that flacid slice of pizza you had for lunch on some street corner in Chelsea.

I’ll be posting the best dishes from the trip in this column, Just Kill Me Now. As in, as long as this is at my Last Supper, I’ll be ready to dance with the Grim Reaper. Bring it.

And why couldn’t I start my Last Supper with dessert? Had this mind-blowing ending (to a dazzling meal in general) at Locanda Verde. Behold the La Fantasia di Fragola, for two. Translation: Strawberry Fantasy. This sculptural centerpiece came towering in a huge silver goblet. It is for two, afterall.

Fior di latte gelato, strawberry-prosecco sorbet, triangular chips of balsamic meringue. Mouthmelting. The most delightful part laid on the very bottom– chunks of sbrisolona, which is an Italian cake traditionally made of almond and cornmeal. Oh, and the tiniest and cutest little fragoline dotted the dish.

Our spoons dueled for the perfect balance of each scoop. We ate in silence. The bustle of the restaurant had long turned into an orchestral symphony.

Yes, just kill me now.

*Photo by Alda Ly.

I was never a big fan of tits.

Maybe when I was a wee infant, but these days I have absolutely no interest. Women’s tits, elephant tits, it’s all a blur. Even if the coolest dinosaurs had tits, I’d still prefer a frozen daiquri and the newest episode of Project Runway.

Except, sometimes the stuff that comes out of tits is quite interesting.

Goat cheese, for example.

Not the yellowish, hard, rubbery kind that you find in Norway. But the French white kind that tastes of countryside, sunshine and wool.

I am allergic to dairy products, but bring on the pain because when I have guests over, my favorite starter is the Goat’s Tits Surprise. (Surprise as in, “Look what came out of that animal’s titties!”).

It’s an Italian inspired starter, and it goes well with white wine or whatever (talk to someone else about wine, it all tastes the same to me).

Here’s what you need for four peeps:

* A roll of French goat cheese (where are the tits on that goat? I hope this cheese came out of the right orifice!)
* Wholegrain toast bread (white also ok, but I like it more naturific)
* One tomato (maybe two if you’re feeling like more sauce)
* Pine seeds (nuts)
* Fresh basil
* Honey
* White wine vinegar (not in picture)

Start out by turning on your oven to 200˚C (about 400˚F).

Then you can start toasting the loaves like a few minutes on each side. Not too much!

While the toaster is working, let’s make the cold tomato sauce.

Place the tomato(s) in a blender.

Drop a spoonfull of honey into it as well.

Pour about two spoons of white wine vinegar into the blender.

Add salt and pepper. We’re going for a sweet/sour taste.

Press the blend button. It’s been a bad bad fruit and it needs to be punished. (Tomatoes are actually fruits).

By now the mixture should look like this.

Taste it to make sure the balance is right and that it isn’t too sweet or sour.

The toast is done now and ready for honey.

Smear a thin layer of honey on the crusty loaves. I prefer this flowingly golden Danish heather honey which is rare to find during some years and is quite pricey. But it’s superb.

Cut the cheese (!)

Cover the loaves with a good layer of the goat cheese. Don’t be a cheapskate!

Sprinkle a helping of pine nuts on each loaf and stick them in the oven.

200 C for about five minutes. The cheese must be melting and the pine seeds browning. Take them out before they go charcoal.

Pour fine circles of the cold tomato sauce around and on top of each toast. Finish off with a nice basil leaf and serve warm and steamy.

And bon appetit! Experience the magic of breasts!

NB: This might be a whole meal for small drag queens and dwarfs (same thing, I guess), so you can easily cut a loaf in half and serve triangles or even smaller bits. Perfect for those warm Skankynavian summer barbecue nights.

Rang in the new year (well, almost) at the mucho-hyped, impossible-to-get-a-reservation, must-wait-over-an-hour-for-a-table Italian spot/pizzeria Flour + Water, in the Mission district, SF.

Four-course prix-fixe menu, A Night in Emilia-Romagna, dedicated to THE SUPREME food region in Italy. Bologna, holler!

Above: Tortellini en brodo with parmesan truffle & house cured meats, amuse bouche style. A shot glass bubbling over with stock and a single tortellini, sunken at the bottom. This was fun to slurp down.

Comforting, unpretentious food, excellent soundtrack, romantic coziness, among best friends. May 2010 be chock full of special meals like this one.

Check out the rest of the meal on the UM Flickr page.

A colleague of mine visited New York City with a “bucket list” of things to do in a very short weekend. Obviously, I participated in this by facilitating the food portion of the visit. So, on a gray and drizzly Saturday evening, we schleped over to the West Village in order to try and get a last minute seat.

AND OF COURSE WE DID!

However, we did have to have a (nice) wait at the bar, where we enjoyed cocktails. My drink of choice? A nice gin (Tanqueray, Bombay, Hendrick’s, or otherwise) and club soda. Along the bar, there were long and thin cheese breadsticks (the dry cracker type) and nice plump olives for the taking.

We were seated near the window at the front of the restaurant, wedged in a corner. Beggars can’t be choosers, but come on, two health care professionals deserve a little better, no? We were brought menus almost right away.

There was a nice listing of lover-ly described foods, but towards the back, there were two tasting menus presented, one “traditional” and one “pasta”, but with the stipulation that the entire table had to go with the same type. We chose the “traditional” tasting menu and opted for the non-wine-paired option, mostly because of our fondness for cocktails not limited to: Jack Daniels on the rocks, dirty Bombay Martinis, and Tanquerey and club sodas. Soon after, we were greeted with an amuse bouche and bread (yes in that order).

A cold chickpea mixture with balsamic vinegarette on toast.

This was tasty, but reminded me of the cold salads one gets at co-op or Whole Foods buffet sections. You know, a bit greasy, but good for what ails ya. I had the sense it would have been better served warm.

Ciabatta. Mostly burnt. Served sans butter, which is what I prefer but I considered strange for a restaurant in general. Unless I’m confused and you’re not supposed to butter ciabatta.

Onward, ho!

Dish I: Duck Bresaola with Parmigiano and Aceto Manodori

This looks like it tastes, or vice versa. Yes, the plates the dishes were served on were all plain white plates, scratched up hardcore. I realize that many people have commented that the lighting in Babbo is not conducive to great food photography, but my Leica and I made the best of it. Obviously, one cannot go wrong with strips of fatty duck, drizzled in balsamic vinegrette and olive oil. There was a sort of cheese-cake perched on top of it, and I generally have a distaste for creamy and cheesy foods that are savory. Therefore, this was definitely not something I enjoyed, although I kept attempting to eat it. There was a crispy cheese cracker to top it off, and of course, tastes how you’d expect, cheese placed on a baking sheet and cooked to a crispy texture. Again, I ate the entire cracker, just because I like to finish what I started.

Dish II: Pappardelle with Chanterelles and Thyme

THIS WAS THE BEST PART OF THE ENTIRE EVENING. If I were to die tomorrow, this would be on my last meal tray. This was luscious pappardelle, cut in generous strips, cooked to an al dente I could never obtain, mixed with a butter sauce with beautiful chanterelle mushrooms. I could live in this dish. The noodles slip over your tongue and coat it with fat, leaving a nice base for juicy slices of mushroom to provide a bitter throwback to reality. This made me think I should have opted for the pasta tasting menu.

Dish III: Duck Tortelli with “Sugo Finto”

with Parmigiano…

This dish probably negated what I thought about the pappardelle. Looks tasty enough, and it was, at least the carbohydrate portion and tomato sauce. However, when one cuts open the wrapped noodle, one finds oily guts spilling out of pale ground duck, with a very harsh, non-duck, aversive flavor. Like I said, the redeeming quality was the noodle, but really the innards need a lot of work, or at least some flavoring to make it pleasing to the tongue.

Dish IV: Pork Tenderloin with Sweet Corn Fregula and Black Truffle Vinagrette

I’m not a big meat person, in fact, I really only eat fish unless I have to eat meat, or I get into a mood where I just really want a nice filet. This was medium-rare done pork tenderloin, with visible fat strips, and pretty tender. Also pretty generic, but the corn fregula really caught my attention. Perfectly cooked and served as a nice balance to the heavy pork. The greens also helped clear the palate. To be honest, I did not appreciate any truffle flavor, but overall this was a solid, if generic, dish.

Dish V: Coach Farm’s Finest with Fennel Honey

I am only beginning to enjoy cheese on its own. This is YEARS in the making. I did not grow up on cheese, or even dairy products other than processed yogurts and ice creams. Therefore, my appreciation for cheeses has been underdeveloped and has only been maturing in the past few years. This was a nice firm (goat?) cheese, not too strong, served with toasted and french bread. The fennel honey was marvelous, although my dining partner thought the fennel overwhelmed everything. I personally like the taste of fennel and I thought it was quite enjoyable.

Dish VI: “Gelo alla Siciliana”

The beginning of the end: a watermelon puree/jelly topped with chopped pistachios and bittersweet chocolate. All three items I enjoy on their own, together, made some sort of kids’ experiment. The watermelon actually tasted pretty artificial, like watermelon in Dum Dum lollipops. However, the pistachio and chocolate topping saved the dish, although I might disagree that the three ever should get together again.

Dish VII: Chocolate “Tartufino”

YUMMERS! My hemoglobin A1C is ruined by tasty desserts such as this. A beautiful chocolate shell surrounding hazelnut gelato and inside, a cherry in the center, what a surprise! The shell was reminiscent of that “Magic Turtle” topping that you can get at the grocery store and becomes a hard candy shell in a matter of seconds. The gelato of course, was smooth and very good, I love hazelnut anything so there was no question about that. The cherry in the center sort of caught me aghast… my dining partner thought it was a nice touch, but I thought it kind of did not match the taste palate of the dessert. It was too preserved, too much in its own distilled juices to enhance chocolate and hazelnut. Leave it out next time, please!

Dish VIII: Sweet Plum “Delizia” with Cinnamon “Fior di Latte”

This was a nice plum cake with cinnamon cream (made of mozzarella), basically. Cake was perfectly baked, slightly spongely and not too dense, and served warm with the cold ice cream, a nice contrast at any time. My dining partner had dibs on this.

Extras:

Blackberry Tart with Vanilla Ice Cream

Instead of two of the same dessert, they opted two give use two different ones to share/mix it up. This was a standard blackberry tart, with a nice buttery crust filled to the brim with sweetened blackberries and served warm alongside vanilla ice cream. Tart was bit overly sweet, but what tart isn’t? Pretty basic.

Assorted Italian cookies

Along with nice black coffee, we enjoyed the assorted Italian cookies of vanilla meringues, thin biscottis, and chocolate cookies. At this point, I was in the verge of a food coma, so the coffee was a nice pick-me-up.

Overall, this was a very good meal, although I would never get the tasting menu again, but rather explore the menu deeply for something that I found more imaginative and delicious-sounding. The couple next to us got a lot of seafood dishes, and I would explore that next time, instead. Particularly the octopus dish they both separately got, which I kept eying although I was done with my own meal.

Here’s to bucket lists and New York!

BABBO
110 Waverly Place
NYC
T: 212.777.0303

*Thomas Parke D’Invilliers resides in Brooklyn and covets the Marc Jacobs for Louis Vuitton luggage set featured in ‘The Darjeeling Limited.’

My buddy Tom and I had been talking about going to the infamous Leg of a Beast at Incanto for a very long time. One lazy afternoon while bbqing outside we decided to call and make the reservation. Incanto’s Leg of Beast includes the preparation of an entire beef shank with all the delicious tendon and marrow in several courses and serves 6-8 people for $200.

About 30 minutes after I called in to make the reservation the chef personally called me and made some suggestions on what else to order since our party was for 10 guys, and we also wanted to try some other things on the menu.

He suggested we start with the antipasto platter of delicious sliced meats and went on to make many more suggestions of which I remember none because I immediately started daydreaming about the whole meal.

Country terrine, dates, pistachio, pickled ramps & grilled bread… awesome.

Antipasto platter: squash, eggplant, roasted garlic, mortadella, some type of prosciutto, spreadable salami on grilled bread (tremendous) and porchetta di testa.

Summer melons, Boccalone lardo, chili & mint.

Oxtail ravioli, oysters, crème fraîche & tarragon.

Potato gnocchi, sweet corn, sunflower sprouts & opal basil- these were probably the best gnocchi I ever had.

Cauliflower cooked in duck fat.

Cannellini beans with beef tendon and pork cheeks.

Leg of Bull (This thing was a monstrosity and amazing).

Marrow, or what Incanto refers to as God’s Butter! They split the bone in half lengthwise so you have access to all the marrow! It was ridiculous! I could have died there and been happy. The marrow had so much flavor and there was SOOOOOOOOO much of it!!! For me the highlight of the meal.

Carnage! 10 of us put all that away, but after a meal like that, who can say no to dessert.

Prosciutto panna cotta, melon & maple (my favorite dessert).

Ginger cookie & Douglas fir ice cream sandwich.

Flourless chocolate cake, hazelnuts & coffee ice cream.

Strawberry sorbetto & basil seeds.

The End.

This was easily one of the best meals of my life. It’s very hard for me to pick my favorite parts but if I had to pick a top 3 it would be God’s Butter, the spreadable salami (first to ever be imported to the US), and the gnocchi. Service was perfect for us as well- I liked that our server didn’t try to recommend some super expensive bottles of wine, as often happens in other places.

And the fact that the chef called and recommended the anti-pasta platter as a starter to give us, “A nice base of meat to prepare for the shank,” was brilliant. For the experience we got I feel like it was a hell of a deal. When we were done we had all the wine we could drink, and all the dishes for less than $100 per head!

If you are ever in SF and are up for it send me a message because I would gladly go again. I hear they will also prepare an entire pig. Next time…

-CJ

INCANTO
1550 Church St
Between 28th & Duncan Streets
San Francisco, CA
T: 415.641.4500

As is my nature, upon entry I immediately shot to the bar for a cocktail. And as is my tendency when in an Italian restaurant, I ordered a Negroni served straight up, to start things off properly.

While enjoying my Negroni the bartender George (along with a few regular patrons) suggested I try the special Smokey Martini–like the original martini except vermouth is omitted, and instead the inside of the martini glass is rinsed with a Scotch that has notes of peat which impart a smokey flavor (traditionally of the Islay variety), and the vodka or gin is stirred alone with the ice and strained into the glass. I’m not one to go against the grain alcohol, so I ordered one. Not only was it tasty, but to my delight they used my favorite single malt Scotch, Ardbeg.

Eventually I managed to pry myself (temporarily) away from the bar to sample the fare, which was offered both in the form of passed hors d’oeuvres as well as food stations manned by the chef himself, Michele Orsino.

For some reason (probably because of the initial cocktails) I didn’t end up with good quality pictures of the food that could do it justice, so I’ll just go ahead and rely on the old school power of the word instead. Of the numerous offerings, the standouts were the seared pepper-crusted steak hors d’oeuvres, stuffed roasted pork, and the risotto with peas.

For dessert we were offered tiramisu and Italian cheesecake. I opted for the tiramisu and polished it off with a couple fingers of Ardbeg, the smokiness of which paired so amazingly well with the espresso flavor in the cake–although in hindsight I regret not following the crowd and trying some of the grappa from their collection, such as the one in the picture above.

As far as Italian restaurants go, in my experience they tend to fall in two general categories. One is the fancy and often ultra-upscale type that’s often tailored to the foodie crowd, with big celebrity chefs lending their names and reputations, where one may be hard pressed to find a single Italian beyond what is on the plate. The other type is the more humble neighborhood restaurant that tends to be family owned and operated. Il Punto falls into the latter category, to the point where it was like being invited to an Italian family celebration, replete with the Opera-bellowing relative and all (yes, there was an old guy singing). In the end I could not ask for greater generosity from strangers, nor greater conversation from a bartender–two principles all restaurants should live by.

Il Punto Ristorante
507 9th Avenue
New York, NY
T: 212.244.0088