That's Il Moro!
Fine northern Italian place offers sublime flavors and many wine choices
By Richard Foss
History can be kind to bad men. Ludovico Sforza of Milan, known as "Il Moro," stole the throne from his nephew and turned out to be an awful ruler. A compulsive intriguer who started a war and changed sides in the middle of it, he tried to play off his enemies against each other and died in a French prison when his strategy didn't work. His only good quality seems to have been that he was a patron to architects and artists such as Leonardo da Vinci. As a result, Milan has plenty of beautiful buildings and frescoes dedicated to Il Moro, even though the artists often weren't paid for their work.
Whether Il Moro the man would have recognized much of the food at the Los Angeles restaurant named after him is doubtful; Italian food has changed considerably since 1498. He certainly would be puzzled by the building in which it's housed, a glass and steel tower without a shred of style, Renaissance or other. The restaurant's personality is not apparent until you pass through the side-street entryway, go past the loud bar, and enter the serene but modern dining room and patio.
The menu is a mix of classic and modern northern Italian ideas, with meat stocks and broths used as a base for many dishes. Vegetarians or those who don't eat red meat might feel constrained, but the kitchen can arrange alternate preparations for many items. We browsed the menu, heard a recitation of daily specials, and chose to begin with sea scallops in a port wine sauce with crispy leeks ($13) and a salad Garga del Moro ($10). The two made a sublime pairing, the plump scallops cloaked in a thick, lightly sweet sauce, the watercress-based salad with lemon-balsamic dressing a light, fresh counterpoint. Both had complexities of flavor and texture. Without the flash-fried leek shavings, the scallops would have been cloying, but the dash of oniony flavor and crisp texture brought things into balance. The salad was similarly well thought out, with chopped hearts of palm, avocado, tomato, shaved Parmesan cheese, and toasted pine nuts each adding texture and flavor. This was one of the best salads I've had in a long time, a truly refreshing and appetizing start for a meal.
We decided to pair our starters with wine from the intimidatingly vast by-the-glass list. The owners are obviously wine fanatics â€" your problem will be to narrow down from five or six things you’d like to try. We selected a flight of white wines (three two-ounce pours) and a glass of Gini Soave. While the generous pour on the glass of Gini revealed a very nice white, the flight was served in shot glasses, which blunted the wines' aroma. One of the wines in the flight was the same Gini Soave, and we thought it merely passable in the small glass. Our waiter later told us that flights can be served in good glassware on request, and, having had this lesson, we will so request.
For our next course, we split a plate of Bucatini Zingara, a tube pasta made in-house with a sauce of capers, olives, onions, Pecorino cheese, and tomato sauce. Zingara means "gypsy" in Italian, and the robust, exuberant flavor has something of the simple and untamed about it. Though the menu didn't mention any anchovy in the sauce, our waiter confirmed that just a hint had been added to lend sharpness and flavor.
We split our main course too, a plate of pork chops with a sauce of rosemary, mushrooms, and diced pumpkin. This was an interesting dish to have after the bucatini, a subtle mix of herbal and musky flavors accenting simply grilled pork chops. The complexity of the flavor led us to think that some wine or vermouth had been cooked into the sauce, but it wasn't so -- there was just something about the combination that brought out a hint of sweetness in the pumpkin. Those interested in investigating the delicate side of Italian flavors might do well to start here. At our server's suggestion, we paired the pork with glasses of the Marelle Syrah and a Saxon Zinfandel. Both were California wines on a mainly Italian list, and, while they were both very good, the syrah was a better companion to the pork.
Dessert followed, an apple tart with a caramel sauce enlivened by a bit of balsamic vinegar, and we departed relaxed and replete. The Milanese choose to remember Il Moro's refined tastes and forget his poor politics; from now forward, I will wonder if his table was ever as fine as this one.
Published: 04/06/2006
DIGG | del.icio.us | REDDIT
