Perbacco
For many people, Italian food conjures a romantic vision of stability and tradition, tried-and-true recipes lovingly passed down from great-grandmothers tottering around crumbling Tuscan farmhouses. At Perbacco, in the East Village, those farmhouses get a much-needed renovation, as avant-garde ideas and techniques bring Italian standards and ingredients into the twenty-first century.
We were there catching up with our friend Howard, who ordered the night's most intriguing dish: crème brulée di Parmigiano Reggiano, an intense cup of cheese, balsamic vinegar, and caramelized sugar. Crème brulée rarely makes an appearance outside the dessert list, although, as this appetizer shows, there's no real reason why pungent burnt cream can't show up elsewhere.
We also started with a shrimp and scallop sausage, served in a chickpea-tomato stew, a heavy, entree-sized portion that showed maybe less creativity than the savory cheese but was more soothing to a hungry soul. It would make a great winter Sunday meal. The third starter was a special, crispy baby octopi with peas; on the spectrum from traditional to innovative, the dish slid toward the former, familiar rather than knock your socks off.
The risotto featured "fruits of the sea" (frutti di mare): mussels, shrimp, and chunks of white fish, along with cherry tomatoes. The pork belly had been seared, so its crunch counterbalanced the sauteed broccoli rabe around which it wound. But the best part was by far the twin dollops of honey-peppercorn jam. Like the risotto's lemon accents, this provided a just-enough touch to remind us of the deftness of the cooks in back. Unlike the nonnas we know (Sorry, Nonna!), these folks aren't afraid of whimsy.
Our desserts upended tradition once again. Our hamburger slider was a playful creative take on that oh-so-popular menu item. The meat was chocolate mousse, the fries slices of pear, the ketchup rasberry sauce, the mayo a stripe of sweet anise cream, and the bun a spongy cake topped with sesame seeds. Sure, it was a wee bit sloppy to eat, but the overall effect was one of lightness and fun. The meal itself reinforced the old saw about knowing the rules before you break them: the basics --- seasoning, good combinations of flavor --- were abundantly present, which made the creativity all the more delightful.
We were there catching up with our friend Howard, who ordered the night's most intriguing dish: crème brulée di Parmigiano Reggiano, an intense cup of cheese, balsamic vinegar, and caramelized sugar. Crème brulée rarely makes an appearance outside the dessert list, although, as this appetizer shows, there's no real reason why pungent burnt cream can't show up elsewhere.
We also started with a shrimp and scallop sausage, served in a chickpea-tomato stew, a heavy, entree-sized portion that showed maybe less creativity than the savory cheese but was more soothing to a hungry soul. It would make a great winter Sunday meal. The third starter was a special, crispy baby octopi with peas; on the spectrum from traditional to innovative, the dish slid toward the former, familiar rather than knock your socks off.
The risotto featured "fruits of the sea" (frutti di mare): mussels, shrimp, and chunks of white fish, along with cherry tomatoes. The pork belly had been seared, so its crunch counterbalanced the sauteed broccoli rabe around which it wound. But the best part was by far the twin dollops of honey-peppercorn jam. Like the risotto's lemon accents, this provided a just-enough touch to remind us of the deftness of the cooks in back. Unlike the nonnas we know (Sorry, Nonna!), these folks aren't afraid of whimsy.
Our desserts upended tradition once again. Our hamburger slider was a playful creative take on that oh-so-popular menu item. The meat was chocolate mousse, the fries slices of pear, the ketchup rasberry sauce, the mayo a stripe of sweet anise cream, and the bun a spongy cake topped with sesame seeds. Sure, it was a wee bit sloppy to eat, but the overall effect was one of lightness and fun. The meal itself reinforced the old saw about knowing the rules before you break them: the basics --- seasoning, good combinations of flavor --- were abundantly present, which made the creativity all the more delightful.
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