Bar La Grassa is easy first choice

BY CARLA WALDEMAR

“What’s your favorite restaurant?” I get asked that all the time, and, diplomat that I am, I lie through my teeth with the make-no-enemies answer, “I love so many; I have no favorites.”

But I do. And it’s Bar La Grassa, where I snagged another super meal last night when someone innocently suggested, “Anywhere. You pick.” La Grassa, which opened in the Warehouse District over a year ago, is as hopping as Day One. Which means, reservations are essential. Which we didn’ t have, so we were ushered to the zinc counter at the rear, facing the open kitchen, diner-style. Turned out to be the best seats in the house. We could survey every dish as it went out; watch the servers slice the prosciutto; enjoy the acrobatics of the cocktail shakers; and chat them up between courses. The rest of the generous room—the former Babalu, nicely converted via polished wood floor, marble tabletops and soft lighting—is decidedly louder and more crowded.

This chow house now bears a strong Italian accent. And the food, as I may have hinted, is spectacularly good. It honors what modern kitchens are cooking in Italy rather than nonna’s heaping platters of lasagna. La Grassa’s menu is composed of starters, pastas and main courses, and, while the entrees are perfectly wonderful, especially the platter of house-made sausage intended for sharing, here’s what I do: order a bruschetta or two ($6-14) and a couple of plates of noodles (half portions $6-9; full portions, double), a slug of cheap red wine, and call it a night. Yes, desserts are offered, but they’re not as interesting, or wonderful, as what precedes them.

La Grassa puts a whole new spin on its bruschetta, those open-faced sandwiches, piling on toppings galore in unusual, inventive combos that are right on the money and large enough to serve two. Don’t miss the “soft eggs and lobster” number, even if it is the most expensive. It’s become the kitchen’s most-asked-for dish, and for good reason. Upon the hefty hunk of bread comes a heap of just-barely-scrambled eggs, lush with huge chunks of sweet lobster meat and nuggets of soft, creamy mascarpone cheese. It’s beyond divine.

This time, we tried the goat cheese and sweet pepper version, too, and loved every bite, spread with the creamy, soft cheese and topped with a haystack of sautéed sweet pepper strips. Meat-eaters, go for the juicy, marinated pulled-pork shoulder. Or, you want some of that silky, sweet-savory prosciutto they’re shaving? A platter runs you seven bucks. On to the pasta, which I always order by the half-portion so I can gobble down more than one. My all-time fave is the gnocchi strewn with braised cauliflowerets and bits of sweet and tangy bitter orange, flecked with chili flakes for a subtle hit of heat. And the gnocchi themselves were perfect: soft (but not mushy) marbles of potato-flour dough.
We also loved the noodles that came tossed with bits of sautéed sweetbreads in a light, creamy sauce. Rich, rich, rich. And divine. But the spaghetti carbonara, frankly, disappointed. I make it better at home. They make it better in Italy. Anyway, these pasta strands arrived with the customary bits of sautéed bacon, a whole soft egg to pierce and mix to sauce the noodles, and a bit of cheese (more Parmesan is on hand on the counter). But it lacked the usual over-the-top richness and tasted, frankly, bland. However, the orechiette—little pasta “ears”—served with a meaty braised rabbit ragu, was as hearty and wholesome as the night deserved, so we left purring. But not without a glass of limoncello, that high-octane Italian “lemonade.” It’s made in-house, served in a shot glass, and smooth as satin. Beats the carrot cake any day. What I failed to tell you is that “la grassa” means “the fat lady.” And, thanks to Chef Isaac Becker (who also owns the popular 112 Eatery), it’s accurate. But I’ll pin the blame on him.