Back to the Table

Just when you think you've made up your mind about a place, about Tavolata specifically, along comes a dish of gnocchi akin to a religious experience.

Regular readers know that Seattlest has been Seattle's lone holdout in the standing ovation for Tavolata. Ethan Stowell--who pays ferocious attention to his reviews--has not been happy with us, going so far as to purge a critical thread from one of the Chowhound discussion boards. Yet we keep going back, sitting at the bar (which most of the barkeeps keep overly bright with fluorescent, under-the-counter lighting; which rumbles annoyingly whenever they run the dishwasher), drinking what should be a foolproof Negroni. Barkeep gets it wrong twice last week, though. The strottaprezzi in lamb ragù was chewy, the veal carpaccio surprisingly bland. On the other hand, we've had angelic agnolotti with veal brains and yummy zepole (donut holes). Ironically, Seattle Metropolitan's reviewer liked everything except the agnolotti and zepole, but dem's da breaks, Ethan.

And then come the breathtaking ricotta gnocchi with beef tongue sugo. The gnocchi are cloud-like, the tongue flavorful and meltingly tender. The dish has an evocative power, taking us back into a childhood of steaming kitchens, grandmothers, great-aunts and noisy family dinners (not that we grew up with any of that, but you get the picture).

Sadly, the by-the-glass side of the wine list doesn't match the kitchen's efforts. There's a lot of ups & downs in the vineyard hills of Italy, a tale best left for another day. And the kitchen isn't perfect; a pork chop the size of an army boot was magnificent one night, dry the next. But those gnocchi are like shining stars, illuminating the way for the crew at the back of the restaurant.

So the laurels aren't unqualified, but Ethan's not waiting. Next venture, already under construction, is a wine bar atop Queen Anne, in the tiny space vacated by Lounge O. Tentative name: How To Cook A Wolf. "It's different, not just another single word like Union or Tavolata," says one of the owners. Indeed. M.F.K. Fisher's classic, published 65 years ago, gave advice not just on cooking under wartime privation but on living life to the fullest.