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I felt as if I were stepping into a
Banana Republic photo shoot as I entered Americano restaurant
through the serene lobby of the Hotel Vitale, the new
San Francisco hotel across from the Ferry Building.
Fashionably attired patrons sprawled
on cushy couches in the circular lounge, sipping frosty
martinis. Others congregated at the bar and around narrow
bar tables, downing gin on the rocks, signature Americanos
made of Campari and sweet vermouth ($9) and bottles of
Moretti beer.
As we angled through the maze of bodies
to take our seats in the stylish 50-seat dining room sequestered
in back, I wondered how all these people heard about this
place. It was like a restaurant version of "Field
of Dreams" -- "If you build it, they will come.''
Only about a month old at the time, Americano
had already been discovered by those in the after-work
crowd, who drink until they're hungry and then go back
into the restaurant to eat. The dining room looks like
something you'd find in a W Hotel, luxurious and tailored,
but with a few lovable quirks that stimulate conversation.
There's a trend in restaurants these
days to lighten the mood, whether it's with fun titles
on the menu or subtle touches in the interior. At Americano,
the sense of humor is everywhere. The top of the canopy
above the open kitchen is filled with an arrangement of
various sizes and shapes of lamp shades, lit from underneath.
At the back of the room, a ginger-jar shaped lamp is suspended
by nearly invisible wires and looks as if it's levitating
when viewed through the gauzy scrim separating the dining
areas.
Floor lamps with oval, slanted-edged
shades on two angled poles punctuate the space next to
the gauzily draped windows that overlook the Embarcadero.
But, what really rallies conversation are the four framed
portraits bolted to the ceiling. They are friends of hotel
owner Chip Conley, immigrants who came here to pursue
their dreams. They all made good -- including the restaurant's
designer, Colum McCartan -- reinforcing the name, Americano.
It's also no coincidence that they are young and posed
as if they could be part of a new high-end fashion campaign.
The place oozes trendiness. The impressive
bar fronted with smooth river rocks, the upholstered armchairs
the color of Irish moss and the rich chocolate brown walls
and ceiling all give the place a contemporary look that
contrasts with the rustic nature of the California/Italian
menu.
The food has a first-rate pedigree. It's
crafted by chef Paul Arenstam, who wowed diners at his
short-lived Belon, which fell victim to its impossible
location, and then as the chef at Grand Cafe.
His gutsy style shines on dishes such
as artichokes fried with a salt cod stuffing and served
with a generous mound of preserved Meyer lemon aioli ($9);
and green garlic soup with peasant bread, shaved Parmesan
cheese and a poached egg ($8), which looks and tastes
like something you'd have at a farmhouse restaurant in
the French countryside.
Arenstam's talent also emerges on a few
main courses such as the sauteed chicken two ways ($20).
He sautes the breast and dresses it up with fennel seed,
orange and slivers of toasted almond, and then uses chunks
of thigh meat to flavor the accompanying Italian butter
bean ragout. The grilled New York steak involtini ($29)
consists of medallions of rosy steak stuffed with trumpet
mushrooms, all moistened with a Barolo wine sauce and
sauteed fingerling potatoes.
However, too many dishes over four visits
tasted like the kitchen staff was asleep. For example,
the chicken that was so delicious on one visit was grossly
oversalted on another.
In many cases, I felt as if I were dining
in New York, where mediocre produce is passed off as fresh
and disguised with heavy-handed techniques. Sweetbreads
($12) were nicely fried but the crisp golden coating couldn't
hide a sour tang, while the accompanying chicories were
doused in dressing that made them seem wilted and tired.
The pappardelle ($16) was underdone and
the ribbons clumped into an impermeable mound so they
couldn't intermingle with the sauce, a slow-braised rabbit
ragout that had such a pungent acidic kick it almost seemed
fermented. While the chitarra spinach pasta ($15) suffered
from some of the same gluey qualities, it was redeemed
by the spring collection of fava beans, asparagus, peas,
green garlic and nutty Parmesan cheese.
The pork belly bollito misto ($19) was
also hampered by muddled, fusty flavors. It was saved
by the crisp skin on the thick square of gamey pork, which
tasted like wonderfully fried cracklings.
Fennel pollen vinaigrette made the grilled
tuna ($23) with sweet peas, lacy shoots and Asian pears
a conversation piece, but the chunks of fish had a suspiciously
strong flavor and mushy texture. I loved the sweet and
sour notes of the Sonoma duck breast agrodolce ($25),
but the selections of sides were unfortunate -- a dull
grilled vegetable caponata and a starchy spelt and almond
risotto, piled on the plate with as much artistry as would
be shown by a cafeteria server at rush hour.
I can't figure out what the staff was
thinking in bringing to the public the Americano Baker's
Pies, bland versions of pizza with a thin crust and sawtooth
edge. It reminds me of something a 1950s women's magazine
might have promoted as a new "Italian'' trend --
a pizza made with leftover pie crusts. We tried two versions,
including one with mushrooms, mozzarella and truffles
($14), which was as sodden as a poorly baked fruit pie.
Too bad there isn't real pie on the menu;
at least then we could give the kitchen credit for curbing
waste. The closest dessert is a hot apple Tatin crostata
($8) that tasted mostly of almond paste. We were more
satisfied with the zeppole ($8) with orange sugar, puffy
beignet-like fried nuggets served with chocolate and pistachio
sauces; and the crema di cioccolato ($8), a thick pudding
served with a stiff patty of whipped cream and excellent
hazelnut cookies.
The waiter recommended the ice cream
sandwich "Neapolitan" ($8), made of thin layers
of chocolate cake with stripes of raspberry, chocolate
and vanilla gelato and a topping of meringue. This fun
take on the classic spumoni was delicious on the first
visit, but on the last visit it tasted as if it had been
stored next to seafood.
Service, much like the food, vacillated
from very professional to forgetful and amateurish. Sometimes
we waited longer than normal between courses without any
explanation, and some bussers seem to have been left out
of the training regime. At times, they tried to remove
items before we were finished; other times, they let finished
plates linger too long.
Even the dining room, as good as it looks
now, is still a work in progress. In the next few weeks
the owners plan to add an outside fence, install heavier
curtains to separate the dining room from the bar, and
add an entrance and sign on the Embarcadero.
Americano, much like the immigrant population
it honors, has boundless ambition. The restaurant, however,
still has a way to go.
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