“Yeah, we’ll have a bottle of Aglianico and a defibrillator”

T wanted very much to go out to eat last night. And “nothing cheap,” she interjected.
We invited our friends Nancy and Katie to join us for the evening. Nancy did some power research on options–basically plucking coveted stamens out of Jason Sheehan’s crocus of restaurant reviews. It came down to Firenze a Tavola (the basement at Parisi) or Mel’s Agave Grill.. The Agave was nixed from the list due to its rather unfortunate location: Greenwood Village. So we decided to meet at Parisi at 7:30.

We show up and there is a sign on the wall: “Firenze will be closed due to a private party.” This is about the time I go off. “WTF?, you are going to tell me that for a restaurant that is open 3 days out of the week, you are going to close on a Friday night for a private party?” I seriously hope Simone’s mom is in town and they are having some big ass matriarchal celebration; otherwise this is just bunk.

We get back in the car to decide on Plan B.

We finally opted for Luca d’Italia. We had not been in quite some time and heading east of 1-25 for dinner was something we hadn’t been doing a lot of either. So off we went.

They seated us immediately at a four top directly located across from the entry way—which made for a breezy night. After mere moments of perusing over the menu, the harmony of “oohs” and “ahs” began to ring out like the calls of hungry fledglings.

The girls order cocktails. I hesitate on ordering a bottle of wine until we can come to some agreement on what food we were going to order. The sommelier, Noll, comes over and asks us if we’ve decided on a wine for him to “retrieve”. We send him away for another moment or two. I have a moment of perplexity on the pairing. You see, we had decided on the Polenta with poached egg and wild mushrooms, the Cavatelli with poached Maine Lobster, the Tagliatelle with duck and duck mousse, the Panzanella—and this was just what T and I had in mind. So crossing the bridge for pairing was a bit tricky. It was between a Barbera, Aglianico and a Pinot Nero. I go for the Aglianico. Noll brings the bottle over, pours for tasting. I put my nose in the glass; question the aroma that I’m getting. Noll says “is it suspect?” I pass it back to him, he concurs. Unfortunately that was the last bottle. Fortunately, he upgrades us to the next Aglianico for the same price.

After the wine had been decanted and we had settled into our first glass, Dimetre came to take our order. In addition to the items above, the girls ordered Butternut Squash Agnolotti, the Potato gnocchi with braised pheasant and foie gras béchamel, and a side of carmelized Brussels sprouts. And at the last minute, T and I decided that we wanted to try out Frank’s salum plate–full of house-cured meats. Check, check.

Finally, we can all focus on ‘conversation’–in which Nanny starts off inquiring what a ‘typical dinner’ was like for each of us growing up. We all go around the table and pull recipe memories out of the vaults of our childhood. Mine seemed pretty ordinary, bland 70s recipes that revolved around casseroles or stroganoff. We had pretty similar experiences, except for Terry (of course) who was eating Supremes of grapefruit and avocado with shrimp; and later on Chloe (Nanny’s mom) got California healthy. In the midst of this discussion, Dimetre brings over the standard breadbasket. He patiently waits for us to shut our mouths so that he can explain the spread he has brought as accompaniment. “What we have here is ‘Proscuitto Bianca’…” A smile crosses my face. This spread is cropping up as a trendy saveur. At its best, it is the top layer of fat from the back of the pig- this pig spending its life eating cream, pears and chestnuts. Basically, we call it ‘Lardo’, they then mix with herbs and pawn off as a spread. Of course, it was delicious.

On the heels of the ‘unbutter’ spread is the salum plate. The house-cured meats included a Mortadella, Soppressatta, Capocollo and some Italian Proscuittos. The Mortadella had a nice mix of savory and tangy qualities- given the pistachios, the interesting spice mix which, I believe, included some Middle Eastern nuances and a bit of citrus. The Soppre was spicy and perfectly cured. The Cappo, I cannot recall if I even tasted it. And the Proscuittos were supple and tasty.

[As I recall the balance of this meal as I’m typing, my stomach is starting to hurt]

Then the ‘primis’ start rolling out….
Arson’s polenta with poached egg and wild mushrooms. If there ever were a fancy way to prepare a southern breakfast, this would be it. The polenta was creamy and cooked to perfection, which could mean cooked to death, but to me that is sometimes perfection. The mushrooms swam in the mote around the perfectly prepared poached egg. She was poached to almost readiness, and then rolled in breadcrumbs and flash fried. She could have been mistaken for a scallop, but there was no misunderstanding the golden ooze when pierced with a fork. I was only missing the side of bacon…oh, but wait!

Caramelized Brussels sprouts. Yeah. Nanny wondered if you would be able to actually taste the sprouts. When they arrived at the table, I don’t think anyone cared if you could taste them or not. They were bathing in this buttery sauce, with ‘my side of bacon’. No joke, the description indicated that there was pancetta in with the sprouts, but upon delivery there were slabs of pancetta (bacon) literally swimming amongst the sprouts.

Panzanella. This was probably the healthiest thing on the table, outside of wine. It’s an Italian salad consisting of bread, tomatoes, basil, roasted red peppers, smoked Mozzarella & Capers. Traditional and delicious.

House made Cavatelli with poached Maine Lobster and Artichoke Mascarpone sauce. I can’t do this recollection justice. I only recall having one bite of it. And while it was tasty, the brininess from the lobster just wasn’t gellin’ with all of the other fat products my tongue was engaging with.

Butternut Squash Agnolotti with Gorgonzola, Pine Nuts and Tuscan Olive Oil. This is a pretty signature dish at Lucca. It’s been on the menu for years. Probably because it is simply, balance and tasty. There wasn’t a pine nut left, and I’m fairly certain someone dredged a piece of bread through the remnants.

Potato Gnocchi with braised Pheasant, Foie Gras Béchamel and Pomegranate sauce. Yes, I said Foie Gras Béchamel. And if you’re not sure what Béchamel is, it’s a fancy word for white gravy and then you throw some Foie in that. Oh Laaaawwwdddyyyy! This is about the time I started to inquire about the defibrillator. It was sin sin sin. I felt dirty even looking at it. But I went there; we all went there. We all swooned. The mixture of all of that intensity in your mouth was a fine and graceful dance. I believe the pomegranate kept everything in line…one two, one two, one two. Until it all vanished into the ether of your biology and you were left the mistress.

Tagliatelle with duck and duck mousse. Bring on more liver, bring on more fat. I can take it, I think. This was my primi, so it was the one I spent the most time with. I love Tagliatelle for its versatility of gathering ‘the goods’. I’m not certain what was in the sauce, but I recall it being more tomato and caper, something acidic to balance out the richness of the duck. It all worked very well, but you had to create each perfect bite. Roll some pasta and some duck, dive through the sauce and with assistance from your knife, apply a dollop of mousse. Ah perfect!

I will also have to say that the Aglianico did a serendipitous job of crossing the culinary chasms of our selections. Nice work, you big mother grape rising from the south.

Dimetre offered the dessert list, and I’m fairly certain that someone punched him in the neck. We ordered cappuccinos and slid a little lower into our seats.

Why, why do we do it?
I think Oscar Wilde sums it up best for me, “I can resist everything except temptation.”