Piccola Italia Bistro
3.5 out of 5 stars
2140 W. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd., Tampa. Appetizers: $8-$14; entrees: $10-$20; desserts: $6; BYOB (no fee). 813-348-4912. piccolaitaliabistro.com.
Back in earlier days, when I was an arts presenter in metro D.C., I used to produce hundreds of lunchtime summer concerts in urban parks and plazas covering all genres of music. But my extensive database included only a one-man band, a crazy-looking guy with a guitar, drums, cymbals, a harmonica and an assortment of various mounted horns and whistles. It was always a delight to see how a single person could become a perpetual motion machine and surprise us at every turn.
Such is the experience of eating at Tampa's young Piccola Italia Bistro.
Chef William de Ingeniis greets you, takes your order, pours drinks, makes bread, moves chairs, answers the phone, packages takeout, serves food, delivers the bill, collects money, processes credit cards, welcomes each new party, rearranges tables, and, oh yes, cooks everything from 11 a.m. to 8 p.m. Monday through Saturday.
At the heart of the chef's Italian menu is a lineup of 10 pastas where his house-made sauces — old-school red sauces from Naples to Bologna — channel Nonna Maria's kitchen from his home region of Abruzzo, east of Rome on the Adriatic coast.
It's no surprise that the restaurant's Yelp reviews are unanimously five-star positive, for the food is authentic and delicious. The range of set pastas covers all the bases, everything from pesto to carbonara, and diners may also choose to add meatballs, sausage, chicken or shrimp.
We start with the special Burrata al Tartufo Nero, which layers four chunks of the creamy cheese, imported from Italy, with a huge plateful of tomatoes covered by a chiffonade of fresh basil — and, in a rather smart move, a pile of peppery arugula in the middle. With a light drizzle of black truffle oil and some EVOO balanced with balsamic, plus fresh cracked black pepper, everyone is happy. The extra greens assure every bite has a magical alchemy of flavors that makes this combo so alluring.
I've long been a fan of Bolognese; it's my favorite Italian pasta gravy. I've followed a Bolognese recipe from the late Marcella Hazan (Italy's answer to Julia Child) for years, and I'm almost always disappointed when I have it out, even in Italy. There's a creaminess to the sauce that's often lacking, as well as a punch of flavor that's hard to match. A few years ago, I was lucky to lunch at Osteria Francescana, one of the world's top restaurants overseen by a genius, Massimo Bottura, who's Chef's Table segment I encourage you to check out on Netflix. His Bolognese was unforgettable (and pricey).
Piccola's version with fettuccine has distinct sausage notes over a solid core of beef with a creaminess just short of Osteria Francescana's. It's a memorable take on this king of Italian sauces, and a giant portion is $9.95. If you're not staving, the leftovers make a great lunch.
Puttanesca coats a big, tangled portion of spaghetti with a mildly spicy marinara sauce dotted with capers and large green olives complete with pits. The anchovies, which normally contribute an assertive component to this famous sauce, don't really register. But what makes the dish soar is the addition of a trio of sensational meatballs; I'm guessing it's a veal mashup with the right amount of herbs and seasoning. Full of juicy goodness, the meatballs have a lightness that's unexpected and disorienting.
Arched doors leading to the kitchen, visible behind a half wall, are made from a blackboard listing the specials, which change daily. We opt for a large piece of grilled tuna served with couscous, because — in the inimitable Italian style of assembling fresh ingredients in un minuto — the tuna is seared to taste and may be served with your choice of pasta instead. It's lovely.
Chitarra con sugo di spalla is one of the chef's specialties from Abruzzo. A chitarra is a device with stretched strings through which a semolina and egg dough is pushed through to cut pasta into rustic, thick noodles. The pasta is then tossed with red sauce and huge shredded chunks of pork shoulder, and the result is a hearty, comforting piece of old Italy.
Our evening's lone disappointment is the cannoli. While the dense creamy filling topped with chocolate sprinkles is a sweet delight, the shells themselves are pre-filled, a shortcut that must be taken in a one-man kitchen. Sadly, this deprives diners of the contrasting crunch that would provide an elevating texture. It's especially a let down because the filling is so substantial. I've never felt the cannoli's allure until now, but its insides are so good that the soggy shells stand out.
An ample square of tiramisu, however, is light and ethereal. It's cakey, rather than creamy, with the lightest notes of coffee in the ladyfingers. My tea-drinking companion, who always eschews coffee in any form, takes three bites before I even notice. This one goes to show there are many successful variations on this ubiquitous dolce.
When a one-of-a-kind "one-man band" like the intimate Piccola Italia Bistro comes along, my fear is that it will become so popular I can't get a seat. That's why I urge you to go, but please don't tell your friends.
CL Food Critic Jon Palmer Claridge dines anonymously when reviewing. Check out the explanation of his rating system, or email him at food@creativeloafing.com.
