Watching BayWalk develop in downtown St. Petersburg has been like watching the scene in Alien wherein the tail-lashing larva explodes from the man's chest. It began with signs that something was about to happen. Then, suddenly, you could actually see the thing growing! People gasped! And then there was a lot of chest heaving and shouting when it finally burst forth, shocking everyone, especially the people in Tampa who'd assumed that St. Petersburg would always be the geographical equivalent of Barney Fife. Now everyone's scrambling around, trying to figure out what BayWalk will eventually grow in to. Will it be a benevolent monster, attracting hordes of new business to downtown? Will it turn on the scrappy independents, those gutsy entrepreneurs who first invested in the idea of a downtown revival, and suck the lifeblood from them? And the question on everyone's lips will Sigourney Weaver play then-mayor David Fischer in the movie version? While we wait for the answers to these questions and more, let's take a look at Gratzzi, the latest eatery served up by BayWalk and clearly the best bite yet. The menu reflects a Northern Italian pantry, not the one most Americans imagine, filled with spaghetti noodles and jars of red sauce, but a more authentic one, with polenta, creamy risotto made of arborio rice, eggplant, white beans, porcini mushrooms and fresh mozzarella. Add to that the kitchen's most distinguishing feature, a large wood-burning rotisserie used for roasting ducks, chickens and huge pork chops that are arranged to greet diners as they enter the front door, and you have all the ingredients needed for a splendid meal.
That two of the three entrees I tried here were not splendid is no indictment of the kitchen. It is, rather, a reflection of a brand new restaurant still designing its approach, and my own limited budget, which did not allow for an in-depth exploration of the menu. Of the entrees I sampled, the best was "open" lobster ravioli ($15). "Open" means the filling is sandwiched between large triangles of pasta (what the Italians call "Grandmother's scarves") rather than sealed into pasta pillows. The delicate pasta scarves were artfully striped with red and green, the colors of the Italian flag. The filling was lush with chunks of lobster smothered in a light, creamy white wine sauce. It came with a basket holding two tiny, crusty loaves of Italian and olive breads. A side dish of grilled asparagus spears wallowing in sweet butter ($5) and a glass of San Angelo pinot grigio ($6 a glass) rounded out a perfect meal.
Another time, my choices were not so appealing. A dish described as "peasant" roasted chicken with sausage stuffing and gnocchi, led me to envision a hunk of juicy chicken, fresh off the rotisserie, nestled alongside delicate gnocchi and a spoonful of sausage stuffing. The dish was actually a thick, somewhat glutinous stew of chicken chunks, sausage, stuffing and gnocchi. It had bold, spicy flavor, something I'd appreciate with a glass of Rabbit Ridge zinfandel ($6.25) on a cold winter evening. But on a warm spring night, the construction of the dish came as both a surprise and a disappointment. When I indicated to my server that the uneaten bowl could be removed, a clear indication of a problem, he whisked it away without comment.
My second try was a 12-ounce New York strip steak ($20) served with red onions, garlic mashed potatoes, and sauteed vegetables. The steak was almost as disappointing as the chicken, lacking flavor and succulence. The sauteed fresh green beans, however, redolent with garlic and olive oil, were so delicious I wished I'd merely ordered a bowl of them. I finished the evening with a chocolate-raspberry creme brulee ($5.25) that would be better described as soup.
Clearly, it hadn't been a good night for the kitchen, or for me. Still, there were enough indications of quality on a menu that offers the flexibility to design a meal around small salads, side dishes and appetizers (my favorite way to dine) that I'd gladly go back for in-depth explorations. After all, osso bucco, rotisserie pork chops with pan gravy, chicken with porcini mushrooms, even salmon piccata await. I hope that before my next visit, the wine list will expand to offer more choices by the glass, and allow half orders of pasta for those of us who follow the Italian order of eating, i.e. "small pasta, big fish."
If my dinner and service didn't completely impress, a savvy marketing idea did. One wall of Gratzzi is lined with dark wood wine lockers, each with a brass name plaque ready to be engraved. The lockers are available to anyone who purchases $350 of wine off the house list. Since they don't allow outside wines to be brought in, there would seem little incentive to pre-purchase wines that are always available, except for the status value of that nice brass plaque diners march past on their way to the dining rooms. Indeed, local attorneys (and, apparently, Frank Sinatra) were the first to jump at this status symbol. My hat is off to whoever came up with this savvy system for luring St. Pete's players into quickly making Gratzzi "their" restaurant.
Gratzzi, whose name reflects the Italian "grazie" for thank you, is the co-creation of Alfie Crescentini and several local businessmen. Judging by its styling, it appears poised to be yet another homegrown entry in the chain gang. So where does Gratzzi fit into the hierarchy of downtown Italian dining? Classier than the Italian-American home cooking at JoJo's or the tourist-centered Cafe Lido at the Pier, yet not as personalized as Bertoni — which exists to show off the sophisticated tastes and talents of skilled chef, Jake Bertoni. Gratzzi nestles right in between. Surely there's an audience for them all.
This article appears in Apr 12-18, 2001.