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October 19, 2007
Traduzione: "Perbacco" = "Wow!"
Until this past Tuesday, I hadn't eaten gnocchi in seven years. The last batch I ingested at a Pasta Pomodoro in 2000 left me with a foodborne illness that would have been at home in an early Michael Crichton novel.
I'm very glad I climbed back on the horse; the gnocchi at Perbacco were the best I've ever eaten. They were so good, I had three bites in the restaurant before asking our waiter to box it up. "It's fantastic, but I want to make sure I have room for what's next," I said sheepishly. Jonathan, our stellar server, smiled and arched an eyebrow at a compact, mustachioed fellow in a black vest who whisked it away.
My beautiful wife and I started my birthday dinner with the salumi misti, all of which were cured in-house. The salami was so-so, and the mortadella wasn't bad, but we agreed that the coppa was a standout. A ramekin of lardo was a revelation -- with bits of roasted pork and a dash of cognac, the velvety pâté did pirouettes across our palate. Jonathan insisted that pâté is the perfect dish to prepare for company, as it's elegant and easy to prepare.
"And we must be honest," Jonathan added, his Marseillais accent dipping a half octave. "Fat equals the flavor."
For the salad course, Liz tucked into a Technicolor roasted beet salad while I made short work of a plate of sliced heirloom tomatoes dressed with ricotta and basil. I enjoyed it so much that I scarcely noticed that my hangar steak was plated with more heirlooms (and even recreated the dish again at home the next evening). Liz's roasted duck with chestnut polenta was cooked to a turn, and the 1/4 liter of hearty Sangiovese we shared dovetailed nicely with both entrees.
We were seated at 9 p.m.; by the time my moscato arrived, the restaurant was as nearly silent as the newbie staffers wiped down the kitchen; we were the last in our section. Jonathan urged us to relax and take our time. We heeded his advice.
Posted by Your Protagonist at October 19, 2007 03:59 AM