Compared to the rest of the downtown St. Pete restaurants along Central Avenue, Bella Brava stands out. The façade of the old Ovo Café has been refurbished, covered in windows and wood and steel. It looks even cooler inside. Warm woods, modern metal and plush leather outfit the well-appointed dining room. At the back is an oval, open kitchen and temperature-controlled wine room. A loft space — complete with its own bar, dining area and outdoor patio — overlooks the first floor. The place is pretty damn slick.
Maybe a little too slick. No matter how nice it looks, there is a plastic, almost over-designed quality to the eatery that just reeks of corporate ownership, a little sprout of a chain concept on the verge of multiplying. Even if it didn’t feel like a chain, one glance at the Bella Brava website tells the tale: One of the links is for “locations.” Catch the plural?
Is Bella Brava the future of chain dining? Will there be one of these glossy little eateries in every hip urban center? After trying it out, I sort of hope so.
On one night, our fresh-faced server was filled with the sort of enthusiasm that only comes with youth, balanced by careful training from the Bella Brava management. From pop quizzes to a take-home CD for pronunciation practice, this guy had soaked it all in. He gently corrected our mangled Italian and answered every question we threw at him: “What should we eat?” “What’s in this?” “What wine should we have with this?”
The restaurant has a good selection of reds and whites — including no less than a dozen Chiantis, and across-the-board representation of Italy’s classic wine regions. That’s fine, but we skipped wine this time in favor of the long list of specialty cocktails. Several are made with prosecco, Italy’s native sparkling wine, including a novel take on Kir ($7.95) — with Campari and lemon instead of cassis — and a bellinitini ($8.95), with peach vodka, prosecco and peach nectar. God, I loved those fruity little drinks, although half the time they were brought to the table by a runner who didn’t know what to do with them.
Bella Brava’s food is as modern and polished as its interior. Instead of fully pandering to the base desires of the culinarily uneducated, it blazes a new path with a mix of updated trattoria classics and more contemporary imports. It’s a great compromise. Sure, there’s bruschetta and fried calamari, but there are also grilled vegetables and deep-fried olives.
Little bombs of brine and salty crunch, the firm green olives ($8.95) were stuffed with smoky mozzarella. They didn’t come into their own until dipped into the deceptively simple red sauce that accompanies them — packed with spicy red pepper and the smoky richness of fried pancetta. I found myself reaching across the table with my spoon after the olives were gone.
There was more of that tomatoey heaven to come, but in the meantime we crunched through crisp and thin affumicata pizza ($10.95) — adorned with bits of fontina and roast chicken, and scattered with tangy kalamata olives and pungent rosemary — and a huge bowl of porcini risotto ($17.95). Perfumed with luscious truffle oil, colored a deep caramel with porcini stock and fortified with parmigiano, the risotto was good, although the grains were too al dente, just a step short of toothsome, creamy perfection.
You can add salads to the entrees for just a couple of bucks, and in true chain fashion, the servers always ask if you’d like to. Go for it. The spring mix, sliced cherry tomatoes and toasted pinenuts are dressed with Bella Brava’s lively citrus and chianti vinaigrette and topped with wide shavings of parmigiana.
Bella Brava still has a few kinks to work out. A rollata di mozzarella ($10.95) wasn’t up to par with the rest of the starters; it’s just a thin layer of nigh flavorless cheese loosely holding in equally pallid roasted peppers and prosciuotto. I doubt it will last on the menu. Tagliata ($19.95) was finished tableside by a waiter/cook who seared the pre-cooked and pre-sliced New York strip on a hot, cast iron grill pan. Since it’s thinly sliced and then seared, the meat ends up medium to well no matter how you order it, although it works well with a bed of spicy arugula dressed with balsamic vinegar.
Still, those few speed bumps can’t taint the screaming success of two other entrees. Sedanini alla bella brava ($12.95) came to the table a mystery, a wide crock draped by golden-brown pizza dough. We hesitated to pierce the surface, realizing that anything could be inside. Maybe a pasta dinner, maybe a clutch of blackbirds. When we finally cut through the crust, only steam escaped to fog the glasses of Editor Dave.
After a few bites, everyone threw delicacy to the wind and started ripping through the crust with fingers and forks in a frenzy to track down each tube of pasta and hunk of fennel and pork sausage — all bound together by the spicy pancetta-laced tomato sauce we already loved with the olives. It’s the kind of hearty peasant fare that is rarely done with such bold strokes.
Bella Brava shows a lighter hand with branzino all aglio dolce ($19.95). A thin filet of sea bass — lightly seared — was topped by meaty grilled asparagus and an exceptional garlic-infused cream sauce. Nothing bitter or raw about the flavor, just the sweet and rich taste of garlic tamed by cooking, along with a subtle undertone of seafood stock. This is the kind of dish that is rarely so elegant and understated in the typical Italian place. By this point, it was clear that Bella Brava isn’t the typical Italian place.
On to desserts. The tiramisu ($5.95) was nothing special, and a featureless ricotta cheesecake ($5.95) was quickly pushed aside for the two more interesting meal-enders. Bella Brava’s panna cotta ($5.95) had a smooth but gelatinous texture and mild vanilla flavor that everyone at the table found appealing. The funghetto ripena di gelato ($5.95) was the clear favorite (when we were able to pry it away from Senior Editor Eric). Who can argue with a giant cream puff stuffed with gelato and doused with deeply flavored liquid chocolate?
There is an almost inescapable tendency for chains to appeal to the lowest common denominator. Food becomes inoffensive, instead of exciting. No rough edges. If this is indeed the first of many Bella Bravas, I am hopeful that it can break the mold and serve stimulating food in hundreds of slick little storefronts. In the meantime, though, I’m going to enjoy our little prototype to the fullest. Just in case.
Brian Ries is a former restaurant general manager with an advanced diploma from the Court of Master Sommeliers. He can be reached at brian.ries@weeklyplanet.com. Planet food critics dine anonymously, and the paper pays for the meals. Restaurants chosen for review are not related to advertising.
This article appears in Oct 19-25, 2005.
