Friday,
07/21/06
Taste authentic Italian again at Valentino's
New chef from Naples is making menu his own
BY JIM MYERS
Staff Writer
I'm often asked to recommend
restaurants and the question I like the least
is, "Are there any good Italian restaurants
in Nashville?" It's a troublesome question
because the quick and easy answer is no, not
like the best new wave of Italian restaurants
of the Mario Batali variety.
One place that has tried to
take stabs at the classic, white tablecloth standard
of Italian dining is Valentino's Ristorante.
Their rich lasagna was a pretty good benchmark,
but many dishes seemed mired in an era of sauces
that cloaked the dishes like a thick cashmere
overcoat. I just hadn't been excited about Valentino's
for long enough that it fell off my radar.
Then reports started trickling
in from diners who had visited recently and had
very good experiences. Like warm whispers laden
with wine, the reports continued, becoming more
intriguing, and from people whose opinions I
respected.
Well, of course I had to go
find out for myself. Now, after a couple visits,
I've joined the ranks of believers. Don't take
this column as a whisper, though. It's a shout.
About four months ago, 34-year-old
Paolo Tramontano joined the kitchen, put in place
to relieve Sime Glavin, the long-time Croatian-born
chef who was looking to scale back.
After stints around town and
at restaurants in New York, notably at MoMA,
the Museum of Modern Art, I can only hope that
Tramontano has landed in a culinary tenure track.
His voice on the phone is thick
with strains of his former home in Naples, where
he learned to cook. He is slowly making the menu
his own, primarily with specials, but you can
taste his influence across the plates.
Start with his homemade salsiccia
con mozzarella affumicata. Salsiccia is what
the sweet Italian sausage you buy at the store
is supposed to taste like. The spices and herbs,
more redolent of sweet flavors of nutmeg than
just a tongue-pounding of fennel seeds, taste
so bright and fresh in the split and grilled
pieces of ground pork sausage. It arrives tender
and lightly covered with slivers of melted, smoked
mozzarella. Don't miss it.
The simple carpaccio di manzo,
raw beef sliced so thinly that it falls apart
on the tine, is kissed with a light drizzle of
citrus and oil and rests seductively on a bed
of arugula, like Victoria's lithe Italian secret
sister.
For a deft hand with seafood,
try the gamberi al vino. The large shrimp are
succulent, simply seared with white wine, garlic
and lemon juice and then finished with a thickening
of melted butter.
I had to turn to one of don
Paolo's specials, though, to feel his full culinary
assault and gain a better measure of understanding
of things to come. Normally I don't dwell on
specials, but this clearly was a showcase for
the new chef, delicately and diplomatically shifting
a menu from past to future.
Italians have a fondness for
veal. Most dishes follow the scaloppini school,
pounded thin, breadcrumb-coated and sautéed,
such as vitello saltimboca, a cut cooked with
slices of prosciutto, fresh sage and marsalla
wine. Valentino's was the best I've had in a
long time, with true sage flavor and salty cured
ham that did indeed jump in my mouth as the name
implies.
The special, though, is a veal
cut not seen very often these days. Eight luscious
chops still joined make up a small curved rack.
They're roasted with clarified butter and fresh
herbs to a rich russet brown. Chef Tramontano
then deglazes the pan with red wine, adds Dijon
mustard, shallots and veal demi-glace and reduces
it to tremendously rich sauce, with just enough
tart bite of the mustard that marries perfectly
with the tender-sweet veal.
Clearly, these are not the
sauces of yore. Even a simple side of pasta con
marinara was lemony bright, and vegetable accompaniments
were tender babies brushed with olive oil and
lightly grilled, full of flavor.
If you want to know how good
grilled seafood can be, the grigliata mixta brings
together a lobster tail, scallops and shrimp
that have marinated gently in the welcome trio
of olive oil, garlic and lemon. They remain tender
and moist with the full flavor of the grill's
hot flames.
Valentino's still serves its
classic take on tiramisu, more of a folded layer
cake than the usual stacked square affair. Tramontano
also makes his own panna cotta daily, demonstrating
just how creamy a custard can truly be.
Through it all, servers maintain
friendly and casual contact but with a professionalism
of experience in finer restaurants, like one
who intimates that he did hard time at Mario's,
linking him to the old-school past.
I'm anxious to try more specials
and bask in the food of a confident chef who
understands the beauty of classical simplicity.
Grazie, Paolo, grazie.
Food writer Jim Myers is The
Tennessean's restaurant critic. He can
be reached at 726-5961 or jimyers@tennessean.com. Reviews
are written from anonymous visits to restaurants.
Negative reviews are based on two or more visits. The
Tennessean pays for all meals. |
