Por Frank Sabatini Jr.
Another exceptional Italian restaurant has sprung into South Park, although unlike its fabulous, friendly competition at nearby Buona Forchetta, it doesn’t serve pizza. But most of the pasta is made from scratch from a small subway-tiled room off the main kitchen.
Before re-opening its doors in early summer, Piacere Mio operated as a coffeehouse. A very cool remodel ensued along with a couple of words tacked onto its original name (Ristorante Italiano) to tell us that the property is now a full-service restaurant.
Piacere Mio translates to “my pleasure,” which aptly relays the ownership’s eagerness to feed you. But it’s really our pleasure in the end, starting from the moment complimentary bread is brought to the table with a ramekin of lentils and olive oil.
Italian designer Mariapaola Miele of Los Angeles executed a relaxing, inspired look that includes a large map of the world done in tapestry and an interior wall using bricks from an old Chicago warehouse. Hanging above the center of the dining room is an abstract arrangement of hanging lights and picture frames.
Our lunch trio started with baked eggplant wrapped around ricotta and young mozzarella. Resembling lightweight lasagna, and without the carbs, it rivaled all other rollatini-style recipes in that the thin sheets of eggplant were strikingly tender and didn’t carry the extra weight of being initially fried in bread crumbs common to other versions. The rolls were draped in mellow red sauce that revealed discernible measures of fennel seed.
Sliced even thinner was aged, marinated beef, served carpaccio style with arugula and shaved Parmesan. No surprises here, but so damn good that it disappeared within minutes.
The lemon vinaigrette house salad was beautifully simplistic, containing only arugula and olives encircled by large wedges of ruby-red tomatoes, possibly heirlooms. It was crowned with a few wide shavings of Parmesan. In traditional Italian style, the ingredients were dressed lighter than what most American palates might prefer. The tradeoff is that you can actually taste the vegetables.
Arriving with a strong hankering for pasta, we ordered three different types and shared them equally. The menu features a “make your own” section that allows you to pick the cut and match it to a sauce. With the exception of spaghetti and a gluten-free option, it’s all house-made.
We chose large, flat pappardelle noodles with Bolognese. The tomato sauce is made with red wine, which added a rustic flavor while tenderizing the clumps of ground beef and pork strewn throughout. It was delightfully classic-tasting.
We also paired capellini (angel hair) to pesto sauce that adheres to true Roman standards, meaning that the garlic factor dances softly in the background opposed to the loud performance it tends to give in Americanized versions. Here, you taste the basil first, the pulverized pine nuts second and the Pecorino and Parmesan cheeses third.
My all-time favorite Italian dish is spaghetti Carbonara, a rarity in many restaurants due to the tricky maneuver of adding eggs into the scheme without cooking them into scrambled form.
It’s an established entrée on Piacere’s menu and worth every calorie. The eggs are whisked into a fair amount of rendered pancetta to create a rich, invisible sauce thickened further by Pecorino Romano cheese. Unless you’re an Italian farmer cultivating a hilly plot of land all day, chances are high that you won’t be able to eat the whole portion in one sitting.
Needless to say, you’d deprive yourself room for the tiramisu made in high gourmet fashion with dark chocolate and coffee liqueur.
The restaurant is co-owned by a young and charming Marco Fontana from Rome, along with two business partners, one from Naples and the other from Genoa.
Aside from pasta, the team tempts with other dishes such as Sicilian-style chicken served in wine sauce and topped with tomatoes, eggplant and smoked Mozzarella; fresh swordfish with olive oil and rosemary; and pork scaloppini in lemon and white wine sauce, which I’ve pre-chosen for my next inevitable visit.
