Good things come in small packages, and for once I’m not
saying this to comfort my vertically-challenged (but horizontally-gifted…at
least that’s what I keep telling them…) male friends or to defend my inability
to see during the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade. Bottega Fiorentina may look
like the Italian version of a bodega, the inside invokes a sweet simplicity
that only Europe has truly mastered. Paris Creperie and Zaftigs are bound to
catch your eye first, but if I’ve learned anything about this particular street
in Brookline, it’s that the places that make you keep walking that turn out to
the most remarkable.
Speaking of remarkable, I’ve had few sauces more remarkable
than the fedora. This smattering of precious pink is as delicious as that
jaunty accessory-that-matches-with-everything-hat is fashionable. The fedora
adds a subtle hint of attitude to the crisp pinstriped vest and leaves a
lasting impression. The cream in
Penne
Fedora adds a subtle richness to the crisp tomato and garlic and leaves a
lingering impression on your tongue. Major points earned for that impossibly
perfect mastery of cream – equally, if not more important than the mastery of
the subtleties of menswear.
I’ve never had non-textured
Manicotti before, but the al dente was irreproachable. The basil
brought out the sweetness of the ricotta, but this dish unfortunately lost a
star thanks to the nondescript meat sauce, which was obviously ladled over the
manicotti as an afterthought, leaving the manicotti swimming in a plate of
water than threatened to ruin any winter coat with a slight tilt of the plate.
But the manicotti was soooo good…
I uncovered a sushi sanctuary one weekend and unearthed an
Italian gem the next. And all on the same street. Between Mr. Sushi and Bottega
Fiorentina, Harvard Street already boasts the close-enough-to-best of two distinct
cuisines. So forget the mamma-mia! prices of North End and never mind the bad
meat sauce at Bottega. I’ll be back here before you can say penne.
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