Tarantino
cuisine: Italian
entrées: $18-$38
address: 30 Railroad Place, Westport
phone: (203) 454-3188
credit cards: All major
4 1/2 stars… Special
The most over-represented and under-whelming cuisine in Connecticut is, of course—Italian. Which is not to say that we don’t have some exceptional Italian restaurants, but to point out that one has to slog through plenty of pretenders and imitators to find them.
If I had a magic wand, I’d designate which eateries are Italian and which ones are Italian-American. The fallacy with that fantasy, however, is that very few, if any, would pass an absolute test of Italian purity, some concessions to one’s market and the availability of ingredients probably being unavoidable. Most restaurants fall somewhere along the continuum. Nevertheless, having the passion for real Italian food that assails most people who spend any time in that beautiful land, I gain real pleasure from bringing to readers’ attention the Italian restaurants that are getting it right.
Tarantino, which is located directly across from the Westport Train Station, has long been one of my favorite Italian restaurants. It’s one in a group of restaurants that includes Columbus Park Trattoria in Stamford and Osteria Applausi in Old Greenwich (and formerly Maria’s Trattoria in Norwalk, which was sold two years ago). If a wonderful recent visit to Columbus Park Trattoria is any indication, the two siblings are still at the top of their game as well.
Tarantino always seems to have that heartening energy that some restaurants, like Elm Street Oyster House in Greenwich and Bricco in West Hartford, appear never to lose. That energy seems to be born out of enthusiasm for being seated in the restaurant, as if, by passing through its doors, all troubles were left behind and the only remaining worldly cares were to make decisions about one’s food and wine.
And at Tarantino, how far wrong could one go with any such decision? The wine list ($22-$325) is largely Italian with a smattering of American and Australian vintages, including sixteen wines by the glass ($7-$19). “When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” which is my way of saying that the wines of a particular country tend to match its cuisine exceptionally well. (Of course, that sage advice probably won’t help you much when dining in Guadalajara, Kampala, Seoul, Reykjavik or Mumbai.) So my male companion and I shared a bottle of 2005 Altare Dolcetto d’Alba, Piedmont, Italy ($48), a more complex Dolcetto than most by a well-regarded Barolo producer.
Normally a Chardonnay drinker, our female companion nursed a glass of Livon Tocai Friulano, Italy ($10) that was offered as an additional wine special. While touring Friuli, I tried numerous Tocais (not to be confused with sweeter Hungarian Tocays, with which they have been involved in a dispute over their similar names), and consider it to be one of the most elegant and under-appreciated white wine varietals on earth. Of course, one of these days it will be “discovered,” like Oregon Pinot Noirs in the 1990s, and then its prices, too, will undoubtedly soar. It’s best to stay ahead of the tsunami of public opinion.
That left only one remaining worldly care—choosing the foods we would sample throughout the evening. However, I suffered near paralysis and took almost twenty minutes to chart our meal, so tempted was I by Tarantino’s many enticing offerings. Thank goodness for a basket of sliced Italian bread and focaccia served with a bottle of exceptional olive oil—otherwise, my starving companions might well have deserted me.
The olive oil itself is worthy of comment, because it illustrates the depth of Tarantino’s commitment to quality and authenticity. The Marchetti-Tarantino family has purchased an abandoned farmstead in Assisi, and the olive oil was grown and hand-picked on their farm and then pressed in a local mill. It was one of the nicest, fruitiest olive oils I had encountered since trying the boutique olive oil of an orchard in Muggia that spanned the Italian-Slovenian border beyond Trieste.
The arrival of a mound of soft polenta ($10.50) completely concealed beneath a creamy Gorgonzola sauce strewn with sautéed wild mushroom pieces cheered my companions greatly. While the dish might be a bit rich for one person, it was sheer heaven for three, the sumptuous cheese sauce not overpoweringly sharp, as is sometimes the case with this preparation.
I intentionally paired this rich dish with a lean one: smoked axis venison sausage ($11) with broccoli rabe and sweet roasted garlic cloves. Little did I know how lean the firm sausage, which tasted similar to a good Spanish chorizo, might be. Later, researching axis venison, I learned that the meat of the chital, spotted or axis deer, which originates in the forests of Sri Lanka, Nepal, Bangladesh and India but has been introduced into the United States, is coveted for its beef-like taste and low fat content. At 99.8% fat free, it apparently has the leanest meat of any mammal. If one’s a true foodie, one never tires of such minutiae.
One could never tire of Tarantino’s bresaola ($11), either. Alternating with sliced mushroom, five perfect round cuts of flavorful, chewy, air-cured beef were topped by incredibly fresh arugula in a simple olive oil and lemon dressing, the greens draped with big sheets of shaved Parmesan.
I have no idea how Tarantino’s fried marinated calamari would have turned out, because we elected the grilled marinated calamari ($10.50) option instead. I’m guessing that, whereas in the upcoming presidential election one probably can’t win, given the experience levels of the remaining candidates, on this choice one probably couldn’t lose. Further research may be necessary. Squid possesses little flavor of its own, so I wasn’t surprised to see that the six squid bodies and the pile of tentacles around which they huddled were dressed in a tantalizing roasted pepper sauce.
I’m not a great lover of pasta only because so few places do it well. Tarantino is one of the few. It would be a mistake not to sample one of Maria Marchetti’s handmade pastas. We tried two for good measure. Potato gnocchi ($23), as light as cumulus clouds, were laved in a delicate cream sauce and finished with grated black Umbrian truffle. Wonderful, al dente, green and white linguine ($23) were graced with crabmeat, basil and cherry tomatoes, and the result couldn’t have been lighter, subtler or lovelier.
This was such honest cooking, the true cooking of Italy, where the simplest preparations of the freshest, highest quality ingredients are revered. One imagines that chefs in Italy don’t tend to develop the same cult followings that they do here because their job is to procure the finest ingredients and then not do all that much to them. But I don’t want to sound like I’m minimizing the virtues of procuring exceptional ingredients, caring for them properly and using them quickly so they are served at their peak, and having the good sense and light touch not to screw them up. If this is so easy, why can’t more American chefs manage the trick?
The best meal I had in Italy might have been at Hotel Sassella (www.hotelsassella.it) in Grosio, a small town located in the shadow of the Alps. I unfortunately arrived at my friends’ albergo after the kitchen had closed, having left Lake Como at sunset and underestimated the travel time. While his lovely wife, Ombretta, conversed with me, Giuseppe prepared a simple venison steak cooked in red wine, a small serving of polenta and a handful of mushrooms sautéed with wild herbs all picked above 2000 meters in elevation, the kind of detail that matters to Italians. Due to the quality of the ingredients, not to mention the company, this simple repast was fit for any king.
People debate the perfect risotto texture, but I’ll nominate Tarantino’s as an example of what I consider to be the ideal. I don’t like my risotto to be overly creamy or mushy; I like the grains still to be somewhat distinct. Tarantino’s risotto with wild mushrooms, prosciutto and shavings of black truffle had the slight chewiness I adore. Nor do I embrace a risotto that’s so cheesy that the other flavors are lost. Throughout our entire meal, Tarantino’s chef never seemed to overplay his hand.
One dish that didn’t seem especially Italian showcased braised shrimp and scallops ($27.50) with wild mushroom and shavings of black truffle in a Madeira wine sauce. Well, believe me, we didn’t demand proof of the dish’s provenance when it reached our table—we just enjoyed the imaginative combination.
But even more our speed was a special of whole branzino al forno ($30), which arrived sprinkled with herbs and garlic on a stainless steel platter. A staff member skinned and de-boned it adroitly, but in the low romantic lighting, we weren’t surprised when he missed a bone or two. The delicate, aromatic fish came with a small cup of the run-off juices, which were delicious and seemed to be accented with garlic and oregano.
Despite all of the wonderful dishes we had tried, our very favorite proved to be a special of roasted spring lamb ($35). I get so tired of venison and lamb that taste like beef, of rabbit and pheasant that taste like chicken, and so on. I appreciate when meat tastes as it’s supposed to. And I’m disappointed when meat is over-trimmed to suit conventional tastes. Just because most Americans don’t understand where the best flavors are found, must the rest of us be punished? Our threesome was so grateful to find included the assorted bones and cartilage that lend tremendous flavor to the meat. The lamb was so well-cooked that we consumed some of the smaller bones and cartilage right along with the delicious flesh.
Every main dish we ordered that evening came with the same set of vegetable accompaniments—namely, sautéed snow peas and the lightest, best roasted potatoes you’ll ever find. While I might give additional points to restaurants that plate each dish differently, there’s no harm in each person having the same accompaniments, especially when they’re so exceptional.
A dessert tray included eight items, but we quickly narrowed our choices to four, our fullness leading to improved decision-making. A lovely ricotta cheesecake ($8), a nice almond tart ($8) and a delicate lemon tart ($8) weren’t housemade, but they were of fine quality. Tiramisù ($8) was housemade and definitely a cut above most, again due to the kitchen’s light touch.
Not that we looked up from our plates all that much, but we noticed that the interior had been updated since our last visit several years ago. There seemed to be new candlesticks as well as modernistic renditions of Italian scenery festooning the walls. The large mirror on the back wall gave added depth to the cozy space, while recessed lights were trained on each table, assuring ideal illumination.
So many new restaurants have opened of late, the upstarts jostling for position with the established eateries in a slowing economy. But an establishment like Tarantino doesn’t need to vie for anyone’s attention. Along with Columbus Park Trattoria and Osteria Applausi, Tarantino has simply been serving some of Connecticut’s best, and most authentic, Italian food for years.