Cafe Spiaggia is, without a doubt, one of the most unusual and interesting Italian restaurants around. Notwithstanding its Gold Coast luxury digs, there is the bonus of having your food come out of the same kitchen as its quite luxurious sibling -- Spiaggia -- just a wall away. And at prices that are quite a bit less. While the prices at Cafe Spiaggia are less than those at Spiaggia, by 10 bucks here and maybe even 20 bucks there, you will still drop a pretty buck or two in the cafe.
(Rich Hein/Sun-Times)
980 N. Michigan Chicago,IL,60611
Phone: (312) 280-2750
Cuisine: Italian
Parking: Yes
Serving: Lunch Dinner
Ah, but it is so worth every one of those pretty bucks. This is high-end Italian cooking on a level that is bumping up against cloud nine. It's all about the mastery of the pairings that makes a difference. Cafe Spiaggia puts a fine point on a dish where others miss the point altogether. For example, mozzarella di bufala, the real deal, was paired with a bevy of wood-roasted olives and slices of the undersung cured sausage known as soppressata. The contrast in flavors -- rich, creamy, spicy, smoky -- and textures -- silky, coarse, meaty -- is beautiful. (Props, by the way, for a menu in which all of the Italian words are spelled correctly.)
A special one evening -- burrata con pomodori -- was ethereal, not to mention exquisite. Burrata is essentially a cheese with a stuffing. An outer layer of fresh mozzarella encases a mixture of cream and mozzarella curds. When you cut into the outer layer, the inner riches ooze out. I could eat this cheese all day. The kitchen paired the burrata with slices of cured San Marzano tomatoes and the tiniest, most tender sprigs of wild arugula. Get the picture? The colors of the Italian flag. Long may these flavors wave.
One dish outdoes another at Cafe Spiaggia. Gnocchi al ragu di Cinghiale or, "hand-crafted potato gnocchi with a wild boar ragu and Parmigiano-Reggiano." Luxurious to the max, the gnocchi sporting a good chew (well-made gnocchi, because all too often potato gnocchi comes out too mushy), the incomparable flavor of the boar ragu gracing each nubbin of pasta just so, so that each part of the dish holds its own.
Slow-roasted pork, a hefty hunk in the round, got together with creamy polenta, roasted rapini (a clever idea, the roasting) and Calabrian peppers (spicy chiles), and a hint of garlic played in the background. Excellent dish.
Wood-roasted chicken (polletto al forno) was an airline cut, the skin crispy, the moisture intact, the flavor wonderful. The fine piece of fowl was in the company of a magnificent mixture of spaetzle, apples, onions and speck. An Alto Adige affair that showed the depth of true Italian cooking.
One of the best tiramisu offerings in the city, a creamy high-rise affair, was a fitting end on one occasion, while a trio of bigne (mini profiteroles), filled with hazelnut ice cream, was a finale with flourish another time. Good to the last bite.
The person in charge of the kitchen producing these dishes so fine (for both Spiaggia and Cafe Spiaggia) is Tony Mantuano. Chef Mantuano gets his share of press, but not nearly enough considering the way he has with the art of Italian cooking. And accolades, too, to executive chef Missy Robbins.
Pat Bruno is a free-lance writer, critic and author. E-mail brunoeats@aol.com.
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