Da Pasquale - Beverly Hills

I love Italian, but when I heard that Da Pasquale was in Beverly Hills, I had serious second thoughts. The traffic is a nightmare, a wondrous weave of one-way streets preceded by a freeway that doubles as a parking lot. 

It takes a lot for me to even consider a trip in that direction, but Da Pasquale is WORTH IT.

Everything in Beverly Hills screams extravagance, and considering the prices, everything sure does feel like a luxury. Da Pasquale isn't cheap, but there's real value in their vittles, a genuine quality to the ingredients that makes the import fees and authenticity cost so WORTH IT. 

Take the Proscuitto San Daniele, for example. Those thin, salty-pink slices finish sweet, silky against a backdrop of soft-yet-bold burrata. The cream tastes like Tuscan sunshine, cold rays on a crisp bed of bitter baby arugula.

The Mezze Maniche alla Posillipo is their perfect pasta, floppy kaleidoscope-tubes spreading a colorful blend of spicy tomato, al dente sea-legs of dense crab and tender shrimp.

A river engulfs an unsuspecting Osso Bucco, a muddy gravy of peas and mushrooms in a hearty stew.

The spinach and potatoes come as a side, lest they drown.

The Lemon Sorbet comes not a moment too soon. Like much of Da Pasquale, this tangy, tart, feather-light delight doesn't forget where it came from. Sitting pretty in its original rind, it does double duty as a palate cleanser and a wake-up call for the osso-bucco coma.

The Panna Cotta is right on. A clean, blank slate dotted with a bright berry sauce, it finishes creamy and sweet, an exquisite texture as smooth as satin.

The Affogato al Caffe will keep me up all night. A potent shot of espresso will make even the most tired of hair stand on end, as it engulfs a scoop of a textbook gelato.

There's so much glitz and glamour in Beverly Hills; it's hard to tell what's real. Da Pasquale may be the only restaurants that continues to keep it real, and it makes them the only place I'll go. The ambiance is the kind of genuine warmth that usually gets lost under the harsh city lights, an old-school charm commonly dwarfed by the surrounding skyscraper. Yet Da Pasquale has it all: a cozy dining room as familiar as chianti, a server who learned her Italian before her English yet somehow masters both, and the most amazing thing of all, a chef who still cooks all her food. Walk by the kitchen and catch a glimpse of Anna, so engrossed in making every meal as perfect as the last that she may not look up all night. This is why Da Pasquale stands strong, and I hope it always stays like this.