May 22, 2005
Mercato
posted by Nadia

For the past few months, I've been watching the slow transformation of an abandoned storefront on the corner of Spruce and Camac. Once the Camac St. Market, and more recently a fortune-telling establishment, this property was taken over for use as a BYO by the owners of Valanni, just across the street. Every day, on my walk home from work, I would pass the building and see what improvements had been made -- first the interior was gutted and remodeled, then the facade was cleaned up, and, finally, the past few weeks have heralded the arrival of light fixtures, tables and chairs, kitchen supplies, and stemware.

The prospect of having a good BYO in such close proximity to our house was irresistible. Carl and I envisioned weekly Sunday dinners, impromptu appetizer runs, a neighborly "where everybody knows your name" relationship with the proprietors. So when Mercato opened last Wednesday, I was thrilled. We made a date for Sunday night, and hoped that the meal would fulfill all our expectations.

Whether we set our sights too high for this location in particular, or whether our expectations are too high on the whole (Carl asked me, in the middle of dinner, "Did I turn into a food snob all of the sudden, or was it a gradual progression?"), or whether it's simply our mistake for dining at a restaurant that's been open less than a week, we were a little disappointed. Not that the food was bad, mind you. Everything was fresh and, for the most part, well-thought out and well-prepared. It's just that, as we were eating, we couldn't help but comment on how the meal could have been better. While Carl may have been right in pointing out our tendency towards food snobbery, I don't think the problems we had with Mercato arose from snobbery per se. Let me explain. When I go to an Italian BYO, I don't expect (nor do I want) pricey ingredients and elaborate preparations -- i.e., truffled terrine of foie gras. I expect simple but fresh ingredients, traditional recipes (some with a creative twist), and a strong attention to detail. While I don't think that's a difficult standard to meet, I find myself disappointed, time and time again, by restaurants that fall just short of the mark. So while this review may read like a laundry list of gripes, take it with a grain of salt.

The meal started well, with small bowls of olives and peppery green olive oil set at the center of the table. Even the bread -- crusty ciabatta-style rolls -- was good, although it could have benefited from a few minutes in the oven before service. The menu was strong, but Carl and I ended up ordering mostly specials. We began with an off-menu antipasti platter, which included marinated grilled vegetables and mushrooms, olives and capers, two kinds of bruschetta (chickpea-scallion and tomato), tomatoes and mozzarella, and a variety of meats -- prosciutto, soppressata, capicola. There was nothing particularly wrong about the plate, but there was nothing particularly right either. First of all, it just seemed like Too Much Stuff. Now, I'm not one to complain about large portions, but there's something to be said for restraint, particularly when you're serving a variety of items on one plate. You don't want to overwhelm your diner with too many competing flavors and textures. Secondly, there's the issue of being true to your ingredients. While the tomatoes layered with the mozzarella were red and surprisingly juicy for May, the tomatoes in the bruschetta topping were an anemic pink and tasted about the same. The mozzarella was described as "buffalo mozzarella," and, if this description was truly accurate I'd suggest ... well, I was trying to think of a witty comment about buffalos and cows, but I'm coming up empty. What I really mean is that that I have tasted fresh buffalo mozzarella, and it is an absolutely different beast altogether than the rubbery stuff served on this antipasti plate. Perhaps this mozzarella simply reflected the fact that even buffalo milk can be turned into bad cheese, but that's not a lesson I want to learn. Finally, the antipasti plate could have benefited from a splash of that peppery olive oil and few sprinkles of salt and fresh pepper. A quibble, to be sure, but if something so minor can perk up a dish, there's no excuse not to.

For entrées, I had sautéed soft-shell crabs (another off-menu item), and Carl had a parmesan-crusted shortrib with mushrooms, large white beans, and, allegedly, gremolata. The texture of Carl's shortrib was divine, but as far as I know there is no way to screw that up. The piece he was served, however, was quite literally half fat. Neither he nor I object to a nice layer of fat on our meat, but this was absolutely excessive. Someone should have trimmed that piece of meat long before it arrived on Carl's plate. The shortrib was served in a pool of brown sauce, which was extremely rich and didn't stray too far from the demi-glace model. It was also merely tepid. Overall, the rich sauce and even richer meat made the dish extremely one-dimensional -- it needed something bright, acidic, or green to perk it up and cut through all that heft. The menu description mentioned a citrus gremolata, which would have been a perfect solution -- but alas, neither Carl nor I could find a trace of it save a few slivers of orange zest.

My soft-shells were well-cooked, crispy, and fresh. They were served with a simple orzo salad that I personally enjoyed -- cool orzo, a little bit of lemon juice, and some crunch from peppers and green onions. However, I enjoyed the salad in a Whole Foods By-The-Pound Bar way, and I was frankly surprised to find it in a Restaurant. It's not that there's anything wrong with cold orzo salad as a legitimate side dish conceptually, it's just that Whole Foods (and takeout bars in general) have ruined the possibility of effective implementation. It's like when Old Navy picks up on a perfectly decent fashion trend and just beats the hell out of it to the point that even now, if you encounter peasant skirts at Kenneth Cole, you can't help but walk away shaking your head. Know what I mean?

Dessert was fine - we had three small scoops of Baci gelato with bits of crispy cone jutting out. The dessert we had really hoped for, a ricotta cheesecake with walnut crust, was sold out. We'll just have to go back. Seriously, I'd like to try Mercato again in a few weeks and taste more of the menu items, and see whether some of these minor problems have been fixed. You can never judge a restaurant by its performance in the first week, and I would like to give Mercato another shot. I'll keep you posted.