There's no sign outside, no street number, just a Vespa on the sidewalk below a fluttering Italian flag. Welcome to Tavolata, the long-awaited Belltown outpost of Union's Ethan Stowell and business partner Patric Gabre-Kidan. Neither has clogs-at-the-forno experience in Italy, but that didn't stop them from creating an upscale, "modern Italian" restaurant in Belltown.
Now, before you start reading accolades from folks who can't get a seat at 8 o'clock, consider this: at midnight, bracketed by the brightly lit kitchen (open till 1 AM) and the dimly lit bar, Tavolata's dark and dismal dining room is a galaxy of gloom; it feels like an opera set without the scenery. The stark, empty room must have the worst accoustics in Seattle, rendering conversation impossible when the joint is full, swamping conversation with ill-chosen music in the wee, small hours. Sound pulsates off the exposed concrete walls and polished wood floors; the tables wobble and the uncomfortable wooden benches vibrate.
In fact, Tavolata gets its name for a massive table (with seating for 24 to 32) running down the center of its shoebox space. Mini booths run along the south wall (perfect for feeding one's date), but what morsels to pass across the table? Surely not the bitter clams, or the minestrone filled with severly undercooked beans. Veal carpaccio, perhaps? Excellent meat it is, transluscent but tasteless, drawing its flavor from white anchovy strips and Parmigiano-Reggiano shavings. A bit of grilled octopus, then, with a tangy dressing. Chew well.
Consensus favors brains over brawn, veal brains to be exact; they stuff the delicate agnolotti, swimming in sage and brown-butter. Rigatoni are underdone, though, with sausage too spicy for the fresh tomato sauce. A whole branzino (European sea bass) gives up only a fraction of its moist and tender flesh. Why? Apparently, somebody in the kitchen scraped off the scales before putting the fish on the grill, so most of the flesh sticks to the skin. The double pork chop is perfectly done but its bed of cheese-flvored polenta tastes like it came out of a Cream of Wheat box--surprising since chef de cuisine Randy Whiteford even grinds his own wheat for the house-made pasta.
The wine list is solidly Italian, with a particularly lovely bottle from the south coast of Sicily, Cerasuolo di Vittoria based on frappato and nerello grapes. It's always a good sign when restaurants expand beyond "safe" varieties like sangiovese and merlot.
Best for last, at last: the zeppole, tiny, lemon-flavored donut holes. That's one of the signature desserts at Dahlia Lounge, where Patric used to be the pastry chef. We gobble them down, and allow the red glow from the gritty but authentic Rendezvous across Second Avenue to guide us back out to the Belltown sidewalk like an honest beacon. That Italian flag? Nah, not really.
Tavolata, 2323 2nd Ave. Seattle, 206-838-8008
The International Kitchen
Cooking school vacations in Italy, France & Spain.
Who links to me?
