Good, but no cigar

BY CARLA WALDEMAR
Piccolo
4300 Bryant Avenue South
612-827-8333

Pssst, buddy … wanna buy a restaurant? Well, just hang on a few months and I’m guessing the space at 43rd & Bryant will be up for grabs. Piccolo, which debuted a few weeks back on this corner of South Minneapolis, is just too precious for words, and we don’t buy that message here in flyover land—or, make that the land of reality. In New York or L.A., the emperor’s new clothes would be much admired, but here in the heartlands, we’re more likely to tell it like it is.

And what it is, is pretentious. Sure, the chef is talented, and unquestionably creative. The food is both delicious and innovative beyond belief, but also beyond the envelope most diners care to push—and certainly beyond their pocketbooks, except for a one-time “been there, done that” to talk about on the cocktail circuit.
Both the footprint and portion sizes are tiny (piccolo in Italian) but not the total price tag. The space is both too crowded and too noisy for a romantic evening, and even the foodies who feel oh-so-special to snag a reservation can’t hear each others’ oohs and aahs. The wait staff proved extremely knowledgeable and solicitous, however.

OK, the food is undeniably excellent. I could eat everything on the menu (13 savory items and three desserts) at one sitting and not feel overstuffed. But, at $7 to $14 a petite plate—well, do the math. It would wipe out my bank account. But the wine list is both interesting and affordable.

Sharing every pretty plate, we started with a beet terrine of microscopic veggies with goats’ milk and truffle honey—fine but not an aha! moment—then, a two-bite Monte Cristo sandwich of celery root and taleggio cheese (the whole thing stood a half inch high) attended by pearls of sweet pear butter, snippets of pickled mushrooms and a pair of crunchy, deepfried (and delicious) leaves of sage: savory, sweet, sour and crunch: It has it all, but it’s over in 30 seconds.

Next up: gnocchi of the heavy, ponderous sort, flavored with sharp, nutty Pecorino cheese, along with pistachio nuts and their butter—the least exciting dish of the evening. But the best one followed—a combo of an egg, scrambled ever so lightly, paired with bits of pickled pigs’ feet, a little hit of Parmesan and wondrous truffle butter. (We begged for more bread to mop up the plate.)

OK, not everyone’s in love with pigs’ feet, but if you dine here, do give it a try. Not all will choose the tripe ragout either (we didn’t), nor the octopus with refrigerator pickles, nor, perhaps, the gratin of artichokes presented with ducks’ gizzards (I was outvoted by my tablemate). But that still leaves several meatier temptations, like the composition starring a circlet of ruddy, tender lamb loin wrapped in a see-through leaflet of swiss

chard and served with more lamb, in the form of a meatball of spicy merguez sausage a la Morocco, and a single raviolo filled with pureed cauliflower and bread: good, but not $14 worth of good. Same verdict for the plate of suckling pig with agnelotti pasta tossed with porcini mushrooms, radish tendrils, rosemary and coriander.

On to desserts. A clafouti pastry, not especially tender, came filled with a skim of date puree, attended by a painting of brown sugar, sour cream and whole hazelnuts. Better: a tiny chocolate terrine, deliciously bitter, and accented by surprise and welcome bursts of salt kernels, all accented by raisins and an innocuous pinecone syrup.

So—good, but no cigar. If/when Chef/patron Doug Flicker (formerly of Uptown’s beloved Auriga) decided to offer, say, a five-course tasting menu for $40 or so, I’d give it another try. And if, somehow, the din could be deadened enough to enjoy the food …