Date night at Napolese

I’ve been dining out like crazy this past month, but mostly for work and am thus bound by confidentiality!

Trying a new approach for this entry… hubby and I had dinner last night at Napolese, and each wrote a separate entry about the experience. Below is our he-said/she-said review:

MY REVIEW:

Being a big Café Patachou fan, I was psyched to try out Martha Hoover’s newest invention – Napolese.

This cozy artisanal pizza place is located just around the corner from the original Patachou on 49^th Street just off Pennsylvania. Hubby and I decided to go for dinner on one of our semi-regular date nights, but hadn’t made a reservation. We got a little nervous when we drove past looking for parking and saw waiting customers spilling out onto the sidewalk.

After quickly discussing a few alternatives, we decided to go for it and see just how long the wait was. The congenial hostess told us we could expect 20 to 30 minutes, but offered to get us a glass of wine to enjoy in the meantime. As it turned out, there was no need; we were led to a table within 10 minutes, if that.

Napolese is surprisingly small. About the same size as Café Patachou. One little dining room and that’s it. There are a half dozen or so outdoor tables, but hubby wasn’t thrilled about al fresco dining in a long-sleeved black shirt in near 90 degrees. I think we were both relieved to receive seats inside near the window.

Décor is fairly subdued — dark wood, one bookcase full of books and glass knick-knacks, another full of wine bottles. A row of bar seating gives diners a chance to check out the pizza-making process up close and personal. Cool. There’s really not much room to play with, but they’ve done a good job of making it feel classy, not kitschy.

You should know going in, this place is LOUD. This many people in one small dining room makes for a hell of a lot of noise. Unless you happen to read lips, dinner conversation at a reasonable decibel is not a possibility. Hubby and I had a hard time hearing each other across the two-top.

We selected wine right off the bat from a short but decent selection of Italian varietals. I opted for a glass of Valpolicella, always a dependable choice, I find. Hubby got a refreshing Lambrusco, served nicely chilled and appropriately fizzy (I once heard someone call this “soda pop wine” and it’s always stuck with me). Wines are available by the glass, full bottles and quarter liters, which you don’t see very often here but are common in Italy. (The $10 to $15 per quarter price tag is quite a bit higher than the 2 euros you spend on the same amount of excellent house red or white in Milan, but I digress…)

Water is brought to each table in a pretty resealable glass bottle, and bottles are replaced as needed. Hubby and I wondered if they really just fill up the bottles with regular old tap, but no matter. It made for a nice presentation. While we were perusing the menu, we received a small gratis dish of tasty marinated olives – I detected thyme in the herb mix. And, the olives were already pitted, thank God. It’s hard to look sexy on a date night when you’re trying to discreetly spit out a gnawed pit and then look for somewhere to dispose of it. Hubby and I were both starving, and these olives disappeared quickly.

The menu isn’t huge — a few appetizers, a handful of salads, a couple Neapolitan sandwiches, and of course, the pizzas. You can choose from house-recipe pies, or create your own from a list of (sometimes slightly odd) gourmet toppings like pancetta, quail eggs, arugula and fingerling potatoes.

The baked goat cheese with tomato sauce starter was tempting, but seemed a little redundant in a pizza place, as did bruschetta. We went straight for the Napolese double chopped house salad. A good move, as the huge bowl was plenty for us to comfortably split. The shredded romaine was generously studded with cheese, roasted peppers, white beans and toothsome chunks of pepperoni and capricola, all tossed with a subtle red wine vinaigrette. I loved that everything was chopped small and manageable by fork – no awkward wrestling with big unwieldy leaves of lettuce. This hefty bowl of greens was like a salad and starter all in one.

Napolese chopped salad

Having been to Milan twice within the past year, our pizza expectations are fairly high for a restaurant that claims authentic Italian-style pies. After some discussion, hubby and I went for the classic choice – a buffalo margherita pizza. The thin-crusted pizzas here are all the same size, eight slices worth, but not heavy like a deep-dish variety would be. We saw several tables ordering a pizza per person, but that seemed like overkill to me. I knew I’d probably only need a piece or two to be satisfied and would only end up taking the rest home, as many of our fellow diners seemed to be doing.

Must say, when our pizza arrived at the table, it looked and smelled delicious. Obviously handmade with melty cheese, a scattering of thickly chiffonaded basil, and a few big crispy dough bubbles emerging in the outer crust. We eagerly pulled slices onto our plates and got to work. I’m sorry to say, I was disappointed. The dough in the center of the pizza was pretty undercooked and could have withstood another minute or two in the oven. Subsequently, the sauce in the very middle hadn’t had time to thicken up in the heat of the oven and ran off the pizza in a watery mess when we pulled the slices apart. It wasn’t inedible, just a little underdone.

Napolese pizza margherita

The toppings were good, though, just the right amount of sauce, bubbly circles of melted buffalo mozzarella cheese, bracing basil and deliciously sweet little roasted grape tomatoes (I could easily have eaten a dish of these as a starter with some bread – note to self, experiment with this idea at home). The crust got better the closer you got to the outer edge and I really wished it had been cooked that consistently good throughout. In spite of its imperfections, we still finished the entire pizza between the two of us.

For dessert, I had my eye on the affrogato di gelato, advertised on the menu as vanilla gelato topped with espresso. Mmmm. When we ordered one to share, our server asked us if we’d like to sub another flavor gelato for the vanilla, an option we didn’t realize was available, but happily accepted. This was a great call on her part. The dessert arrived very quickly, a good-sized glass goblet/dish of hazelnut gelato with a cup of espresso on the side for us to pour over at will. (Hubby is the espresso aficionado, so read on for his thoughts on said coffee below.) The combination of coffee and hazelnut was fantastically rich and nutty, almost like a sweet sesame flavor, and we happily polished off the whole thing in short order.

Napolese affrogato

I have to make a point to mention that service at Napolese was prompt, friendly and efficient throughout the meal. Accommodating but never irritating or insincere, we never had to wait more than few minutes if we needed anything. And for such a small and busy place, we never felt rushed to give up our table. Kudos.

Our total bill was $73 without tip. Pretty expensive for a salad, one pizza and a dessert, although when you consider that we did have five glasses of wine between  us, not unheard of, I suppose. A good meal definitely, but thinking about it the day after, I’m not sure it quite lived up to the hype. Think next time, I’d still prefer a Quattro Fromaggio at Bazbeaux.

HUBBY’S REVIEW:

The fair Amy looked ravishing in a dark dress and a new dark hairdo. By coincidence I was wearing dark trousers and a dark shirt (I don’t have anything else). We climbed into our black Explorer and off we went to a restaurant staffed by young lovelies also wearing black. If Robert Palmer was sitting in the corner smiling I would not have been surprised except for the fact that he is actually dead.

On the other hand, Napolese was far from dead, so busy in fact that we circled past a second time to wonder on the wait time. Finding a spot we walked past the outdoor drinkers and were informed that 30 minutes was to be expected.

There isn’t any bar here where you can actually sit and wait for a table whilst enjoying a glass so I was a little alarmed as, wearing only black, with long sleeves, I certainly did not fancy standing around outside for half an hour, sweating with the sun beaming down on my shiny bald head. The 15 or so drinkers outside were almost all wearing the local uniform of tshirt and shirts, being a Euro these items are of course for painting houses only.

Food critic Amy Lynch must have had her photo circled around the kitchens of Indianapolis as one to be feared as we were seated in less than five minutes, not having time to even grab a glass of wine. To my delight we were also seated inside. My lovely wife loves to eat outside, but for me this is an option I generally do not partake of as it is hot and uncomfortable, and at this particular location proximity to the local vehicular traffic was not of interest.

So, inside we were.

We were seated close to the window, and I have to say the background noise was deafening, making conversation almost impossible. Having just moved on from the ‘will we wait ot not’ conversation I was certain Amy thought I didn’t want to be there and this conversational challenge was not going to help. This was a date night and I did not want anything to go wrong. On the other hand, the surrounding noise made disagreeing almost impossible. If we were to have a disagreement it would be a full on screaming match and in 5 years of marriage we have not hit that spot so we settled in to what was another lovely romantic evening.

I selected a Lambrusco, not often to be found and sometimes very refreshing (in this case it worked as I had two more), and Amy had a Valpolicella. The menu was not the longest, but for an indecisive fellow like myself, long enough. Having read some excellent reviews in various publications and of course having just come back from Italy a few weeks ago, we were looking forward to making our comparisons. A little plate of olives arrived with our drinks and were devoured almost instantly, mostly by me. Sorry, babe.

Amy will surely elaborate on the menu in full, and as you likely already know we split the chopped salad and a pizza. The salad was excellent, and I could have had another if it weren’t for the need for pizza space. I do not think I have ever heard anyone say they could have had another salad, and it is certainly a first for me, so we were off to a lightning start.

The pizza arrived in a reassuring ‘pizza made from scratch with love and attention’ timeframe, and it looked fantastic. My knife and fork disappeared with my salad plate and the waitress rushed to find replacements, returning with a fork. I have often found a knife useful when eating pizza in a restaurant but assumed we were in for a crispy affair here so was not too bothered.

As pizzas go, it was good, but not great. It was a little runny and really could have done with a little more time in the oven, as the dough right at the centre was not completely cooked. We still polished it off so it can’t have been that bad.

It was at this point we noticed just how good the service was. Water appeared at the table unobtrusively, the waitress managed to re-fill my glass without Amy noticing, and we never felt rushed or upsold. We were in the driving seat and it was nice to linger and not feel the need to leave. When Amy was finally getting to the end of her glass our waitress appeared and asked if we would like another, and once we mentioned dessert made a suggestion we were delighted with.

The hazelnut gelato with espresso was absolutely lovely. Reading the menu earlier in the week we both thought that would be a choice to share, and were not disappointed. Having the little cup of espresso for you to pour over the ice cream was a nice touch. Yummy!

The espresso served with the ice cream saved me a potential disappointment. By no means an expert, I do like a nice espresso and cannot for the life of me understand why restaurants purchase this very expensive machinery only to use it improperly. Pet hates are no crema, cold espresso, or served in a cold cup. I can bang out a fine effort on a $34 E-bay machine in my office so the restaurants of Indiana have no excuse, in my cranky opinion. Anyhow the cup was cold and the crema sadly lacking.

The tab came to $73 plus tip, not bad for an upscale dining experience but at the same quite a lot given that we shared all three courses. The pizza did not live up to expectations, but the salad and service can hide a multitude of sins. The noise really was an issue, and I would not recommend anyone taking their girlfriend to break up, you really would need to shout out whatever it was you could no longer stand about her. I was (retrospectively) surprised that no bread was offered, but given it was a pizza restaurant not so surprising and the olives were a fine replacement.

Would I go back? Possibly, but I would not rush back.

The talented Mr. Tallent

Hubby and I escaped for a brief overnight visit to Bloomington this weekend in honor of my pending 40th (gulp) birthday in two days. This is not how things were supposed to play out.

The trip was originally meant to be a surprise jaunt to Montreal, courtesy of hubby’s ingenuity and massive frequent flyer miles. He selected a lovely boutique hotel and polled my friends to cover childcare for the toddler, although he did unintentionally let the location slip a few weeks ago. We had a series of babysitters all lined up, our bags were packed, and we were good to go. Or so we thought. You know what they say about the best-laid plans…

We were scheduled to leave for the airport Friday morning around 8 a.m. Unfortunately, the toddler kept us up a good part of Thursday night coughing his little head off. He wasn’t sick exactly, but he wasn’t right, either. When the alarm went off at 7 a.m. after a fitful couple hours of sleep, we debated about the best course of action. As my friend Christina so aptly summarized the Murphy’s Law of parenting: if you stay, he’ll be fine. If you leave, he’ll come down with pneumonia.

Hubby thought we should move forward with the trip as planned, but left the final decision up to me. Being the slightly neurotic, often over-reactive mom that I am and knowing I’d spent the whole weekend worrying about the little man, I finally caved and said that I didn’t think we should go. So all bets were off. Hubby got on the phone to cancel the flights and hotel reservation. We did recoup some of the expense and wrote off the rest with a hard swallow and a “c’est la vie.”

Disappointed and pissed off, we went about our usual business for the day, doing yard work and spring cleaning. Not how I’d hoped to be spending what should have been a romantic birthday weekend with my hubby. The toddler, of course, was fine. He did keep coughing, but seemed to feel just dandy. Fortunately, our friends who were lined up to babysit kept their offers open, so we dropped the little man to Laura and Colin’s house for a few hours Friday night and headed downtown to do a little beertasting at Sun King Brewery.

I just wrote a profile about Sun King for an upcoming issue of Indianapolis Dine, so I’ll make you wait for the full scale of my observations in that publication. Suffice it to say, if you live in Indianapolis and you like beer, you need to check this place out. Open since last July, the owners are a couple of characters, and they make a damn good product. They offer tastings Thursday, Friday and Saturday evenings, and the place was hopping when we were there. (No pun intended.) We sampled a handful of beers, my favorite being the Wee Mac Scottish Ale, a sweetish malty brown brew with hints of toffee and caramel. Yum.

For dinner, we ended up at the Rathskeller, site of my second date with hubby nearly six years ago. The past few times I’ve eaten at the Rat, it’s been nothing special, but I’m pleased to report the food has come up in stature somewhat since my last visit. A warm soft pretzel comes standard in their breadbaskets – nice touch – along with some blow-your-head-off horseradish mustard. Hubby enjoyed a huge plate of pasta with chicken, feta, veggies and herbs, and I went the traditional route with a steamed brat and warm German potato salad with vinegary hot bacon dressing. The food was good, but servings were WAY too big. Both of us left half of our dinners behind.

The toddler continued to seem ok through Friday night, so hubby and I decided to venture an overnight trip to Bloomington. Our friends Kellie and Theresa offered to stay at our house with the kiddo, making our lives that much easier, bless them. We booked a room at the Hilton Garden Inn downtown, which turned out to be a great location just half a block off the town square. We parked the car and didn’t think of it again until this morning.

After we checked in and dumped the bags, a pre-dinner drink was in order. This being the tail end of I.U.’s spring break, everything was pleasantly deserted, no lines or traffic. Crazy Horse served as our first stop, where we enjoyed unwinding at the copper-countered bar over a cheap beer.

At the suggestion of several friends and thanks to some great word-of-mouth, I’d zeroed in on a place called Restaurant Tallent for dinner. The chef, Dave Tallent, has been getting some great buzz and is a repeat James Beard award nominee, one of the highest honors any American chef can receive.

The menu posted by the door sounded pretty ambitious, and a little out of my comfort food zone, to be honest, but we were intrigued enough to give it a try. I’m soooooo glad we did.

Now, the problem with places like Restaurant Tallent is that they come so highly recommended that you get your hopes up for a stellar dining experience before you ever set foot in the door. Expectations are terribly high, and so is the possibility that it might not turn out to be as good as you hope for, then you wind up disappointed. Just like our Valentine’s Day dinner at 14 West (see previous blog entry). Well. I’m thrilled to report that Restaurant Tallent delivered everything we were hoping for, and then some.

The place smelled amazing from the second we walked in. Décor was low-key, warm and romantic – low lighting, funky modern light fixtures and a rich, understated brown and green color palette. It seemed fairly dead for a Saturday night, but I was grateful to get seated immediately and wrote off the lack of customers to spring break. Our server, Dustin, struck just the right note of being friendly and helpful without ever seeming intrusive or pretentious. That’s something to be said with the caliber of food being served here.

As I said, the menu was a little intimidating – we don’t usually eat at restaurants that serve foie gras, caviar and tartare. The short list of starters and entrees changes according to the season and the chef’s inspiration. Ingredients are locally sourced whenever possible, and everything is as absolutely fresh as can be.

Hubby and I decided to share a starter. Although the arugula salad with goat cheese beignets was plenty tempting, we have a hard time passing up anything that includes pancetta. And so we opted for the black truffle tagliatelle pasta with pancetta, mushrooms, spinach and parmesan.

As we waited for the pasta, Dustin delivered a basket full of warm slices of the most melt-in-your-mouth tender rosemary-dusted peasant bread and a ramekin of fresh butter. We also got a freebie amuse bouche — a little ceramic Asian spoon containing a chilled quarter-sized scallop mold of butternut squash panna cotta skewered with a crunchy parmesan crisp and topped with a drizzle of sweet sauce. It was a scrumptious little mouthful, almost like pumpkin pie filling, and the parmesan crisp was just salty enough to offset the creamy sweetness. We were off to a good start.

Our starter arrived, looking and smelling unbelievably good. When we laid eyes on the small dish set in front of us, we worried it wouldn’t be big enough to satisfy both of us. We were wrong.

This pasta serving was small, but mighty. There were just a few thick noodles, really, cooked to toothsome al dente perfection. The flavors were ridiculously intense and expertly combined, the best of which was the tiny cubes of crispy-chewy pancetta. For the uninitiated, pancetta is a cured Italian meat, like bacon but with more primal pig flavor oomph. My only criticism of the dish, and I’m struggling to even mention one, was that I couldn’t distinguish the taste of the truffles amid all the other vibrant flavors. Having never had truffles before, I was looking forward to tasting one, but no matter. The dish was insanely good irregardless, and several bites were more than enough to make both of us happy.

We were still raving about the pasta (and proceeded to for the rest of the night) when our entrees showed up.

I’ve tried scallops a few times in the past, including my own so-so attempt at grilling the little suckers, but I knew that I’d never really tasted them they way they SHOULD be enjoyed. Tonight, I decided, was a good opportunity to do so. I received three beautifully browned scallops atop a mushroom risotto cake and a small mound of collard greens. A country ham consommé was the finishing touch. Gordon Ramsay would have been proud.

First of all, my plate was absolutely gorgeous. The chef and kitchen staff obviously take great pains in appearance, believers in the mantra that you eat first with your eyes. There were no fancy garnishes or unnecessary schwack on the plate, just a healthy serving size of highly flavorful, fragrant, beautiful food. The succulent scallops were sweet and tender with a lovely caramelized crust, and the mushroom risotto was delicious. Collard greens seemed an unlikely accompaniment on paper, but were just bitter enough to balance the sweetness of the scallops, and the salty ham jus pulled the whole thing together.

As good as my entrée was, I must admit, I think hubby’s might have been even better. Sliced duck breast (prepared well done at hubby’s request without a bat of the eye), mounted on spicy red rice with duck confit and steamed bok choy. Oh. My. Goodness. My mouth is watering just remembering it now. We both all but licked our plates clean.

I wanted to order dessert so badly, but knew I just didn’t have room left to enjoy it to its maximum potential, and so we refrained. We seriously thought about taking a leisurely walk and then coming back a little later to order some. In lieu of a sweet finale, hubby asked for an espresso, encouraged by the coffee machinery behind the bar. Sadly, this proved the only flaw in an otherwise perfect meal. To be fair, the vast majority of Midwesterners could order an espresso here and think it wonderful. But, being the worldly, well-traveled man that he is, hubby has shot back enough real-deal authentic espressos in Europe to know the difference. He has even invested in a machine of his own to make them just the way he likes.

Having seen hubby proudly display his own creations at home, I knew enough to cringe when I saw the espresso arrive at the table without any sort of creamy foam on top. Hubby was happy that the barista/bartender heated the cup, but pronounced the coffee itself not good. Which is so sad! At a restaurant that pays such close and careful attention to every food detail, the coffee fell short.

Even though we had politely refused dessert, Dustin delivered us a tiny plate containing two chocolate sandwich cookies glued together with raspberry cream filling “to fortify us for our walk.” We each took a tiny nibble, intending on just a taste, and proceeded to polish off every crumb. Our total bill for one starter, two entrees, and two beers for hubby (plus the bonus amuse bouche and cookies) came to just under $80. Completely good value, we felt, for the quality of food, service and atmosphere.

The espresso disappointment aside, and it wasn’t a serious transgression, our overall Restaurant Tallent dining experience was fabulous. The food itself was nothing short of incredible. The pacing of the food was perfect, slow enough to build anticipation, but quick enough to be efficient. Another interesting note, there are no condiments on the tables. Dustin came over after we’d had our first taste of each course to see if we wanted salt or pepper. The mark of a true chef is in the seasoning, and Dave Tallent passes that test with flying colors. I can’t wait to go back. I just heard someone say that Restaurant Tallent offers half-priced entrees on Monday nights… that could be very dangerous information for me to know. I would be completely willing to drive to Bloomington and back in an evening for a 50 percent-off dinner.

Hubby and I pleasantly passed the rest of the evening walking around Kirkwood and the I.U. campus, stopping into Nick’s for another beer and a pool hall where I was promptly shamed by the decline of my shooting abilities. I was AMAZED at the number of ethnic eateries presently housed along 4th Street. This stretch has come a long way since I was a student, now housing Ethiopian, Thai, Korean, Tibetan, Italian, Turkish, Moroccan and I can’t even remember what else. Very, very impressive. Every restaurant looked better than the one we’d just passed, and I found myself wishing we had about a week to get acquainted with all of them.

After a leisurely sleep-in this morning, hubby and I were ready to venture out for more food. The other restaurant I’d been wanting to try was FARMBloomington, and although a walk-by last night revealed it wasn’t as upscale and romantic as Restaurant Tallent for an honorary 40th birthday dinner, it was just the ticket for brunch.

FARMBloomington manages to be down-home yet still trendy at the same time. The décor is bright and cheery with homey, cozy details like hanging quilts and a somehow charming wall display of bedpans indicating the restrooms. Like Tallent, FARMBloomington focuses on farm-fresh, local, seasonal ingredients. The brunch menu is full of egg dishes, pancakes, biscuits and gravy, and other standard breakfast fare with modern gourmet spins.

We started by toasting the trip with mimosas. Hubby ordered a basic breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast and oven-roasted tomatoes sprinkled with savory herbs. It was nothing fancy; just solid, hearty, super-fresh, good food. The tomatoes made the plate, and I vowed to attempt something similar at home to serve over pasta or alongside a roast.

My breakfast was French toast, made with day-old Scholar’s Inn Bakehouse brioche soaked overnight in custard batter, then cooked and topped with a dazzling orange syrup and dollop of tangy crème fraiche. Mmmmmmm. I can’t even begin to describe how good it was. A lady at the table next to ours leaned over to ask me what it was and said she planned to order it on her next visit.

Again, the serving sizes were just right and the prices were extremely fair considering the quality of the food. We left completely sated and happy with our food decisions for the weekend.

So, although it wasn’t Montreal, hubby and I had a fantastic visit to Bloomington and vowed to come back again soon. And I got a chance to reconnect and spent a little downtime with the man I love, which is exactly what I wanted for my birthday.