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Italian$$
Why do we go out to eat? This is not a trick question. There are obvious, practical reasons like you can’t be bothered cooking, you’re having a meeting, or you’re hungry.
Then there are the life-enriching reasons which make going to a restaurant a little or a lot of an occasion depending on your needs and mood.
Dropping in to a local bistro or pub a couple of times a week has a sense of occasion for most of us. It never gets old.
There’s that slight frisson of excitement, the anticipation of well-honed professional service, the expectation that you get to drink a favourite wine, eat a go-to pasta dish, finish with a double Averna over ice or simply chat amiably with a favourite barman or waiter.
Dining out is a civilising experience. Not for all of us regrettably. There are still vulgarians out there ready to behave like spoilt children and expose their inferiority.
Most of we average Joes and Josephines are the best versions of ourselves when we go out: we sit up a little straighter, we’re agreeably well-mannered (even though at home we’re shrieking like a swivel-headed loon at the pouty 13-year-old) and watching our Ps and Qs regarding the use of cutlery and napery and how to order wine. It’s damn good for the soul.
Walking into Bar Vino in Mount Lawley is a tonic.
It’s noisy, the tables are very close, European bistro close. Staff weave expertly through the restaurant with plates and glassware. The energy crackles. It’s full pace, but not rushed or abrupt. It’s at once friendly and professional.
Kick-off was an unusual flatbread crusted with pecorino. The waiter told us it is a traditional Italian flatbread, torta di ceci, made from chickpea flour, like the more well-known socca from Nice perhaps? It was dry, crunchy and crusty and very good, a perfect snack with an pre-dinner aperitivo. Pro tip: ask the waiter for some olive oil, so you can spritz your torta as you go.
Locally made stracciatella was teamed with citrus, chilli and pistachio. The nuts offered a nice crunch among the creamy softness of the cheese. There are a million ways to skin a cat, as they say, and as chefs plunder the depths of their experience to find new ways to team flavours with Perth’s most popular restaurant cheese, the kitchen at Bar Vino kept it simple and, consequently, stunning. It looked beautiful too.
Exmouth tiger prawns were big ’uns. They had been butterflied, breadcrumbed, fried and served with a cheek of lemon and mayo. They had spent too long in the fryer and were dryer than necessary, but certainly not ruined. The breading had good flavour.
Risotto alla Milanese was the work of an expert. It was, as it should be, the colour of hi-vis thanks to its main flavouring, saffron. It was al dente, nicely wet, properly seasoned, finished with just the right amount of butter and a joy to eat. It was topped with “beef cheek agrodolce.” Agrodolce means “sweet sour” and this is something of a revelation when applied to beef. It was just that. Perky with vinegar and sweet at the same time, it was a racy realignment of the palate after the creamy risotto. Perfetto.
Ricotta gnocchi was OK. Lovely flavour, but a little too soft, gummy even. Strange mouthfeel. Fresh basil leaves perfumed it well and the tomato sugo was good.
Pork cotoletta is one of the finest things to come out of Italy this side of superyacht building and bunga bunga parties.
Cotaletta One was overcooked, more Jurassic Pork than tender and sweet. Back it went. Cotteletta Two, The Sequel, was much better. I asked chef later if he brined his pork, a process that can cover a multitude of sins – not to mention emphasising flavour. He assured me he does. It was just one of those things then. There was only maybe 60 seconds in it. As we say with abandon in this column, it’s never the stuff-up that matters, it’s how wait staff and the kitchen make it right: 10 out of 10 for their punctilious and cheerful re-do of the dish. It was served simply.
Cape Grim eye fillet was on the smaller side at 180 grams. We love this. Perhaps it’s a consequence of age, but the traditional 250-gram portion is just too much food these days, what with starters, sides, wine and whatnot. It was well cooked, properly grilled and served with a fresh horseradish gremolata. We’ve never thought of a gremolata as anything more or less than lemon zest, parsley and garlic. We’re going to steal this horseradish version. Brilliant.
The wine list is a serious document, expansive, well selected, purposefully constructed around the food and experience. Most wines are in the middle price point where diners feel comfortable. There are a few expensive wines for serious oenophiles — $385 for a 2016 Leeuwin Estate Art Series chardonnay is a bit rich though.
That’s amore! We love Bar Vino. It has the energy and passion and manner of a first-rate neighbourhood tratt in the backstreets of an Italian city. It has the cooking to match and its front of house, made up mostly of smart young Italians, is simply brilliant.
We’ll be back.
15.5/20
Cost: antipasti: $8-$26; pasta/risotto, $29-$34; salads/sides, $12-$14; mains, $37-$48; dessert, $16.
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