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Every couple weeks, we'll be filing proper restaurant reviews—with, deep breath, stars. On such occasions, Metromix dines unannounced and pays full price for the meal.
Let's just say you were to subscribe to the idea that pasta grows on trees—as the BBC famously did in 1957. If so, Spina's chef Roberto Patriarca—formerly of I Trulli and Maremma—would be the Dan Barber of the farm-to-bowl noodle movement. So fundamental is the chef's artisanal pasta program at his new East Village trattoria that he's installed a pasta table, manned by his "longtime pasta maker Blanca Rincon," according to press materials. Chefs have their own traveling pasta specialists? We can get behind that. —MR
The noodle caboodle
Patriarca has pumped some serious effort into the pasta program here: Rincon, sometimes with an assistant, toils from morning until evening, hand-making everything from pappardelle to farfalle using up to four types of flour and infusing the pastas with ingredients like squid ink and spinach. It's all done in full view of diners, in a corner of the dining room that actually resembles a little DJ booth, but with food pros spinning yarns of pasta instead. On the evening we stopped by—and we stayed pretty late—they were still toiling away well past 9 o'clock. The pasta plates (there are 13 of them) are literally front-and-center on the menu, and there isn't a secondi section at all. Save for two fish dishes, Spina ditches heavier entrees altogether, making it clear what the focus, and strength, of this restaurant is. —ALL
Good Cop: Pesto, ragu, Tuscan fries, pepper mussels
Even with all the ceremony, everybody knows that a tender noodle goes only as far as its condiment. Patriarca concurs. A simple summertime pesto coated our split servings of paparadelle—we ordered three pastas, which the kitchen thoughtfully portioned out into our own individual servings. Sardinian malloreddus was dressed with a hearty ragu (a veal, pork and beef blend), which perfectly suited the rigid, semi-dente pasta. But let's talk about Tuscan fries, the Italian cousin of the pomme frites. Spina made us an irresistible batch, arriving hot and dolled up as if we were a pit stop to a Saveur cover shoot. The thick-cut Russets are fried in vegetable oil, and seasoned with rosemary sprigs, roasted garlic cloves and a blend of Italian seasonings. A peppery mussels appetizer, sold hard by our friendly server, was worth the stump speech. The Neapolitan shell fish were sautéed in white wine, chive oil and butter, teetering on the edge of pepper saturation. —MR
Bad cop: Panzerotti, beef carpaccio, lobster ravioli, tiramisu
A snack plate of fried panzerotti "stuffed" with tomato and mozzarella proved disappointing: The hollow pastry was all air and practically no stuffing—a pity since, once you got to it, the filling was actually quite delicious. Which was more than we could say about the beef carpaccio: It was a gummy enterprise whose flat flavor and unnerving texture couldn't be redeemed by the arugula and chanterelles that were heaped on it. The restaurant's signature lobster ravioli looked much more promising, doused in a poppy-seed cream sauce mixed with sparkling wine. It would have worked, except that the pasta was enormously tough and chewy, which sank the whole dish. As for dessert, a tiramisu left a strange, flour-y aftertaste. —ALL
Italian cuisine, global wine list
Without the benefit of years of drinking, or a well-stamped passport, Italian wine lists can be painfully overwhelming. What the Fontalloro? It's not an issue at Spina, where sommelier Rob Terek has organized his offerings into a user-friendly mood chart of sorts. Are you feeling "Fruity, soft and vivid" or "Big, bold and spicy"? The affordable selections took us to South Africa, Austria, Piedmont and the Finger Lakes (like Buttermilk Channel, the list shows a lot of NY pride; more restaurants should follow). There are 10 bottles under $40. —MR
The bottom line
Stick to the pastas and you're in for some nice rewards. There are a few missteps here and there, yes, but we gotta give props to Patriarca for opening an Italian restaurant in a neighborhood already studded with its fair share of standouts (Gnocco, Frank). We'll certainly remember this one: for the freshness on the plate, and—when they work—for its rich, satisfying flavors. —ALL
Photo by Sam Horine
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