An old standby reinvents upward
Davio's
Back Bay / Boston
The economy is in a major slump, the nation is in war, and the populace fearful about terrorism. All this means a restaurant slump with empty dining rooms and fretful owners, right?
Well, you'd never know that by walking into Davio's in Park Square, the new incarnation of an old favorite. On a Wednesday night, the bar area hums with activity. The dining room is bustling, and the private dining rooms, glimpsed when waiters go in and out, are full, too. Since opening late last October, Davio's, resplendent in a high-ceilinged room that once was Paine's Furniture, has been doing more business in a week, says owner Steve DiFillippo, than the old Davio's on Newbury Street did in a month. In a phone interview, DiFillippo - who opened his first Davio's at age 24 in 1985 and owns branches in Cambridge, Providence, and Philadelphia - is ebullient about his newest venture.
The popularity makes for a cheerful place, I think as I arrive on a weeknight (I had already given up trying to get a weekend reservation). Davio's is big and sprawling with many of the elements prevalent in modern restaurants, but it still manages to feel comfortable, even cozy. Large windows reveal street scenes, the chairs are deeply cushioned, the colors all soothingly muted taupes and chocolate browns.
The original Davio's concentrated on Northern Italian fare, innovative in the mid-'80s. But the last time I dined at the Newbury Street place, the concept seemed heavy and dated.
But there's nothing like a rebirth to shake things up. Davio's is quite a production: The menu lists a sheaf of chefs: Eric Swartz and Stephen Brown as executive chefs; Rodney Murillo as chef de cuisine; Tom Ponticelli, formerly of the Four Seasons, as pastry chef; and Mike Svelnis, who makes the very good breads. The dining room is stocked with what seems like a battalion of managers and waiters in starched white jackets. The wine director appears the instant wine is mentioned.
The menu is complicated with a section for classics and another for steaks and chops as well as antipasti, pasta, and main dishes. That, and the fact that both the waiter and the wine director carded the 30-something women accompanying me, makes for a spritz of drama before the first food arrives.
Luckily, there are a few dishes as dramatically good as the surroundings, and many more appealing enough to remember fondly. This is hearty food, for the most part, sort of comfort food Italian-style upscaled for a modern palate and served in generous portions.
Chicken livers are deeply crisped on the exterior and creamy soft inside, in a dark balsamic glaze with a few golden raisins and pine nuts to add other textures and tastes. Tender octopus gets a bright jolt of chili heat in a saute with chickpeas, tomatoes, and basil.
The showstopper is quail, now a staple on appetizer lists and one that can be very good or very dull. Here the tiny bird has a deep, rich flavor, a perfectly crisped skin, and the advantageous accompaniment of a farro (spelt) salad that soaks up the bird's juices while adding a slightly toasted, nutty taste.
As seems to be increasingly the case in newer Italian restaurants, pasta isn't given pride of place anymore, possibly because of the recent ascendancy of protein over carbs in the diet pantheon. Duck liver ravioli is such an intensely dark sauce of balsamic and brown butter that the dish almost tastes Chinese. It's great, but a little like eating foie gras - a few bites suffice. A vegetarian pasta with eggplant, cauliflower, and broccoli rabe is overwhelmed with hot peppers, so that the heat, not the vegetables' character, is the chief attribute. Although there are certainly other choices, none of the pasta sounds as interesting as the main courses.
Short ribs, braised so throughly and slowly that the meat practically melts on the tongue, again have an almost soy sauce quality with a dark sauce slightly sweet with aged balsamic. A good cut of salmon gets a lighter touch with a citrus sauce and lovely crab risotto. A Statler chicken (the term refers to the way the breast and wing are cut in one piece) is excellent with a lightly crumbed golden crust and perfectly roasted interior. The chicken rests on a little stew of artichokes, white beans and bacon, all very good except for an overly salty taste to the sauce.
Davio's does well by simply prepared cuts of meat. A porterhouse veal chop is beautifully grilled to order, a mammoth cut buttressed by bounteous softly mashed potatoes. Filet mignon, too, is straightforward and fine.
But the best dish over several visits is a spectacular ossobuco of monkfish. Like all dishes here, this is a huge cut of monkfish on the bone, the clean flavor enhanced, but not masked, by the caramelized exterior. A corn ragu with crabmeat and thyme adds a bit of complexity and sweetness, and sauteed escarole an appealing touch of bitterness.
The wine list is long, heavy on Italian bottles, with plenty to choose from in the midrange. Desserts are displayed on a tray, a kind of formal and slightly old-fashioned touch usually seen in hotels. Pastry chef Ponticelli makes a truly delectable panna cotta, a dessert that's newly popular and so very often interpreted more as a creme brulee than as the true cooked cream. His is just right, smooth and creamy with a slight wiggle and lightness to the texture; it's also not too sweet so that the lightly stewed pineapple gives a pleasing jolt of real sugar to the palate. A melting chocolate cake has the correct balance between intensity and sweetness, and coffee semifreddo is really very high-quality ice cream in clever triangle shapes.
Davio's has much more. I didn't even get to try the pizza or panini at the chef's table or sample the takeout nook in the hallway behind the restaurant, which the Davio's staff stocks with freshly made doughnuts and other pastries, and sandwiches (open weekdays from 7 a.m. to 5 p.m.)
It's a veritable three-ring dining circus. And like a successful circus, you come in to dine and the real world melts away.