Friday, January 23, 2004

By Sarah Billingsley, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette

So often, successful small restaurants are spoiled when they try to join the big leagues. Overthinking the decor, overspending on a wine list and overestimating a kitchen staff's ability to transition often kills the elusive, intangible magic of a restaurant that just works.

Larry Lagattuta holds a Margherita Pizza at his Enrico's Ristorante in Shadyside. (Martha Rial, Post-Gazette) ENRICO BISCOTTI COMPANY RISTORANTE 5863 Ellsworth Ave. Shadyside 412-661-1050 www.EnricoBiscotti.com Hours: Monday to Thursday, 10 a.m. to 9 p.m. Friday, Saturday, 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. Sunday brunch 9 a.m. to 2 p.m. Basics: No smoking. Reservations for parties of 6 or more. Handicapped accessible. All major credit cards accepted.

But it's a wonderful thing when a modest, well-loved operation expands successfully, as has Enrico's Ristorante, in the Shadyside space long inhabited by the glacial decline of La Charcuterie.

In the Strip, the narrow back room at Enrico's Biscotti Company was a congenial, sparsely furnished hangout with a loyal base of Saturday diners. Seated at long, communal, wooden trestles, you were likely to befriend the person whose elbow landed in your pizza.

The soups, pizzas and large salads always satisfied, and the monthly dinner series provided a showcase for something chef/owner Larry Lagattuta does well: tasteful rustic fare such as roasted meats, dressed poultry and fish on the bone.

This unpretentious fare comprises the menu at Lagattuta's new restaurant. Suited to its tony Shadyside address, the space is far more elegant than its Strip District counterpart and the food is more serious.

Converting a deli/specialty store into a place that is nice to sit and eat in is a challenge. Enrico's Ristorante captures the polish and urbanity of Shadyside with a high, curvy marble bar, low-hanging lights and a classy bistro black and white color scheme. A wall of windows is treated like a wall of plaster: Framed prints and black and white photos are suspended there, and the room is filled with light.

The restaurant is good-looking, if chilly; when the door swings wide, the wind sweeps in. Wear a sweater.

Along the drafty full-length windows are small bistro tables draped in linen. Opposite is the wine bar, lined with square stools, which flows into the kitchen, where the huge wood-fired oven is shingled with copper fins to resemble a ball of flame.

The restaurant seems popular already; there are always people seated at the bar, sipping away. Enrico's offers many unique wines by the glass, and the straightforward list of bottles is both affordable and interesting. The house red and white wines are Lacryma del Christi, "tears of Christ," fruity, refreshing wines from Napoli. At the bar, the beautiful $15 cheese plate, loaded with generous chunks of soft, hard, ripe and quiet Italian cheeses, is the ideal companion.

Enrico's basic Italian peasant fare is often wonderful.

White beans are prepared in the traditional Tuscan way, as fagioli al fiasco (beans in a flask): the beans are fed into a glass bottle and buried in the smoldering ashes of the fire overnight. This method of gentle, slow cooking renders the bean meat tender and the skins imperceptible. The result is a warm, creamy paste, dense and rich, subtle with garlic and sage, splashed with good olive oil and served with slices of Enrico's dense, crusty loaf. It's a perfect example of "pane e companatico"-- a little bread and something to go with it.

As is the plain and good greens and beans. Warm, vegetal juice bleeds from the frilly greens and mingles with olive oil. It is perfect for sopping up with bread.

On the menu are many familiar dishes. The good panini sandwiches and the big fat salads sprinkled with bleu cheese are available. The pizzas are as fine as they ever were in the Strip: thin and supple in the Neapolitan style, topped with a few simple ingredients. The Lust pizza was hot with puttanesca sauce; the Love pizza was a cuddlier, creamy pie topped with roasted chicken.

Items from the Market Fresh menu are more upscale than longtime Enrico's fans may be accustomed to.

Fig and wild mushroom-stuffed chicken makes an inexpensive meal for two. The chicken is stuffed, roasted, split and doused with warm gravy. A cornucopia of roasted root vegetables -- beets, carrots, parsnips, turnips -- spills over the plate. The flavors are earthy and sweet, and the figs add gritty oomph to every bite. It was a nice touch, on the server's part, to pack up the half-chicken we wouldn't be consuming immediately, for home.

Enrico's ever-changing daily specials promise that there will always be something different to try. Roasted turkey, soaked in sage cream and served over pappardelle, was unctuous comfort food. Barely blanched asparagus, drizzled with herbed vinaigrette, was refreshing, and the combination of grilled fresh anchovies and roasted tomatoes was particularly nice. Hearty hunters stew was robust on an icy afternoon: thick with beef, rabbit and root vegetables, it was served over a pad of creamy polenta.

Soups change daily: a bouillabaisse-like fish soup, packed with mussels, scallops, fish and shrimp, was a spicy success. Mushroom consomme was somewhat blander.

Some meals are not so well executed, possibly because the kitchen staffs, visible behind the high counter, were as different daily as the entree specials. One evening, our check was misplaced and our order wasn't fired; we waited an extra 20 minutes for miserable entrees. The mixed grill that arrived consisted of dried-out meats arranged on a base of mesclun greens. If ever an entree cried for a starch, this was it. With bland boar, chewy rabbit and a singed house-made sausage, there wasn't a meal on that plate.

Similarly, a whole black bass, stuffed with sausage and crabmeat, was full of translucent, razor sharp bones. The fish was so dried-out, it might have been mistaken for jerky.

What a shame: Red snapper, given the same treatment a mere week prior, was another matter entirely. The white flesh, cloaked in soft skin, was sweet and tender, the sausage/crab filling a mild, creamy accompaniment. The pliant snapper bones were less intrusive. Its side of risotto was perfection: al dente, buttery and thick.

Enrico's kitchen is capable of surprises, like the beautiful goat cheese pistachio cannoli that was crunchy, milky-tart and wonderfully unsweet. You may be familiar with Enrico's fine desserts -- biscotti, cookies, tarts, cakes -- from the Strip District bakery. Hazelnut chocolate cake is appropriately dense and nutty, but it wanted a dollop of ethereal cream to set it off. Coffee is of the high-octane variety. Cappuccinos are first-rate.

Expect leisurely service, to a fault. At lunch, we waited 20 quiet minutes after we were seated until we were handed a menu. On another occasion, waiting for the check was our tedious post-meal pastime.

The dining room seems to lack ventilation. When I left, I smelled like I'd cooked my own garlicky dinner. My coat still reeks of the smoky oven -- not an altogether unpleasant association in this cold weather.

The room is noisy; there are no carpet or drapes to buffer sound in all that spotless marble and metal. The room echoes. Voices sound a low roar. As the waitress described specials, I caught every other word; her voice reached us like the elusive radio station you try to catch while driving through mountains.

Despite these shortcomings, when the kitchen is on, there are few simpler and utterly satisfying meals to be had in Pittsburgh. We appreciate our peasant fare and understand its underlying principle: Good food is simple, and simple food can be transcendent. Enrico's white beans -- modest and marvelous -- are proof.

E-mail this story   Print this story