Halfway through a recent meal at Café Anna, I made a quick trip to the ladies' room. There, I was greeted by the ghosts of restaurants past. The 3671 S. West Shore Boulevard site has been home to a host of other upscale Italian joints, including Aldo's, whose vintage Italian movie poster décor still graces the bathroom walls.
It's a common phenomenon: Eateries of a similar genre establish themselves in the building, then promptly vanish, creating a revolving roster of restaurants.
Owner David Crusoe, formerly of The Palm in Westshore Plaza, and partner Louie Bevilacqua have poured their hearts and souls into this latest endeavor. The result (lauded by another Planet critic as Best New Restaurant in last year's Best of the Bay issue) is a casual yet upscale café in which yuppie couples and families with young children can feel equally at home. The restaurant is named for Crusoe's young daughter, and the menu features several of her favorite dishes. A lovely father-daughter portrait hangs near the entrance.
White linens grace the table, but there is an extra layer of white paper upon which children can freely scribble. Though many of the walls are decorated with trendy, neon-lit cutouts, the exposed brick near the bar is completely devoted to surprisingly decent artwork crayoned by the restaurant's younger patrons. I was impressed by Crusoe & Co.'s ability to make Café Anna "family-friendly" without turning it into a Chuck E. Cheese.
We began our evening with one of Café Anna's featured wines. The wine list is not enormous, and to get the best deals, you are far better off buying by the bottle than by the glass. Some of the best by-the-glass values – though not inexpensive – were the middling Californian chardonnay and the lovely, plummy Tuscan sangiovese.
Our appetizers set a high standard for the evening. The spicy mozzarella salad ($5.99) gave the standard caprese an extreme makeover. The homemade fresh mozz was layered over basil leaves and tomato slices, and galvanized by the addition of piquant red vinaigrette and a scattering of capers. The menu described a "duck quesadilla" ($5.99), but delivered triangles of puff pastry filled with tender duck, and topped with buttery avocado and cream. By comparison to these two stunners, crab bruschetta ($6.99) fell rather flat. The delicate flavor of crab was completely lost within the stronger elements of salsa cruda (tomatoes, pungent herbs, onions), and the slices of baguette-on-the-bias were soggy beneath the heaped toppings. As far as I'm concerned, it's not bruschetta if you can't hold it in your hands. Thankfully, this misstep was the only disappointment in the meal.
My boyfriend, in a rather bold move, chose to forego his usual steak and try the chicken Anna ($15.99), a breast stuffed with tomatoes, spinach, mushrooms and onions. It's been a while since I've had chicken in a restaurant – paying 16 bucks for chicken somehow seems a financial travesty. However, if other chicken dishes are as tasty and well-executed as the chicken Anna, I've clearly been missing out.
I went for the big guns: cioppino ($21.99). A mountain of shellfish swimming in a spicy red sauce, the cioppino was sizable, scrumptious and nearly impossible to consume. Though the server provided me with an extra napkin and a stack of moist towelettes, I'd covered my fingers and place setting with spatters of red sauce before I was halfway through the snow crab legs. The scallops were completely saturated in savory, tomato-based broth. Chunks of stewed tomato provided the perfect complement to impeccably prepared clams, mussels and shrimp. No sides came with this dish, but trust me, you don't need them. It's more than enough food all by itself. My server expressed concern at my order, but after my doggie bag was packed, she admitted I'd done pretty well. She could always tell if the dish was enjoyed, she said, by how much of a mess the diner had made around the dish. (Apparently, I loved it.) However, I do have one suggestion: give us a discard plate. I had to pile the empty shells on a bread dish in an increasingly precarious stack.
Though completely stuffed, we rallied for dessert: a melt-in-your-mouth Marsala-poached pear with a side of vanilla ice cream ($4.99). Throughout the meal, David Crusoe rushed about the restaurant, checking on diners, making suggestions, smiling at everyone and giving directions in the kitchen. His pleasant enthusiasm was echoed by all of the servers, who seemed to possess a genuine respect for their boss and his culinary vision.
The place was packed, and parking seemed to present the greatest challenge of the evening. Once we were inside, the meal was smooth sailing. It gives me hope that history does not always repeat itself, and that Crusoe's culinary baby will enjoy a long and happy life.
Diana Peterfreund dines anonymously and the Planet pays for her meals. She may be contacted at diana.peterfreund@weeklyplanet.com. Restaurants are chosen for review at the discretion of the writer, and are not related to advertising.
This article appears in Jan 19-25, 2005.