Asti

I ate at Asti Trattoria in Austin last weekend.

It was very good.

What was apparent to me was that they get it. They get that the food is the thing. While that may seem like an easy concept to understand, it most assuredly is not. As a rule, I like open kitchens. It states that the operation revolves around the chow. If one walks into a joint like Emeril's in New Orleans or St. John's in London (not to compare the two), one's attention is immediately directed towards line cooks working furiously and chefs shouting orders. It is a controlled chaos that is more of an amuse than the little spoon of tuna tartar that the "chef" brings to you "on the house." And the chick cook working the pasta station is an f'n lioness. She cooks in Austin, but she could make it at Le Bernadin. She is quick and precise. It gave me hope - it made me hungry.

I had only two items that night: a potato pizza and a simple pasta pomodoro. About the former: I would never have ordered it. It was ordered by my company. I find the double starch-thing. like rice in a burrito, to be too much; but I'm glad that it was ordered. The dish was pretty much a Potato Gratin (or a tartuflette, to be more precise) on a crust... a good crust, which is a rare find. They even knew what kind of potato to use (waxy). Great dish.

The latter dish was a fine example of what good pasta cookery can be. Admittedly, I ordered the pasta pomodoro to see if the kitchen could execute; because if you can't run something simple like this on all cylinders, then whats the point? Tomato. Olive Oil. Herbs. Lots o' Garlic. Pasta. That's it. It was very, very good. I licked my plate. Literally.

But I think that the main thing was that the non-chef-owner was expediting on a Saturday nighty. I can't remember the last time that I had seen that. It told me that he cares deeply about what is served under his roof. It told me he gets it.