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Dish Osteria & Bar Each month, Deborah McDonald jump-starts appetites with lively restaurant reviews that scrutinize who’s cooking what and where. She works anonymously, visiting each restaurant at least twice before writing her column. Do you know of a restaurant you'd like to have reviewed? LOVE, ITALIAN STYLE Oh, to be a child every Valentine's Day, a child around age 7. Hopping off the school bus, running home as fast as I could with a cardboard shoebox under my arm. Decorated with red and pink paper, bits of white doilies and a slot jaggedly cut into the top with my mother's best carving knife. Bulging thing wrapped tightly with a rubber band to avoid the loss of a single valentine. Forced to wait until we got home to find out who sent the biggest, made his or her own or taped on a candy heart. Something so simple but, on Valentine's Day, the grandest of treasures. Dish on the South Side is an ideal (grown-up) backdrop from which to recapture a fleeting microcosm of those mystical Valentine's days. From the exterior, it looks more like a corner residence bookending a series of weather-wizened, brick row houses where the architecture hasn't changed much since the '30s, when the mills were still spitting the byproducts of steel into the air. Look carefully for an overtly modest sign, then be prepared to be assaulted with cacophony as you enter. In a spot where most houses have parlors, a bar full of beautiful people are having an inordinate amount of fun. Laughing, gossiping, wrapping their arms around each other, to the casual observer, they are people who could dance all night. The offhand elegance is lusty and passionate - no overhead lighting! We would have loved to have stayed but for the cigarette cloud that my husband, Brad, declared off limits, so we trooped off 'round the corner to a more serene getaway: soft, dim and enticing with just enough white noise from next door to allow conversational anonymity, conducive for whispering love or conspiracy. Since opening five years ago, the place has developed character, a loyal following and an electrified bistro fare. "Italian with an accent on southern," says owner Michele Savoia, who came to Pittsburgh via New York and Gela, a small town on the south coast of Sicily. His philosophy: "Good, quality products, starting from garlic, which is peeled in-house. I've evolved with the restaurant, but the cuisine always goes back to my roots." If you’re the kind of person who prefers boutique shopping versus large department stores, you'll like Dish. (Savoia keeps a list of people to call when he's making homemade gnocchi with lamb or oxtail). It's unpretentious yet dreamy, just right for sneaking away from the workaday world. Nightly specials complement the standard selections with just enough surprises and imaginative detail to prevent freezing a diner with indecision. We quizzed our server about the subtitle "osteria" under the Dish logo and she proferred an articulate response, obviously honed by repetition: "Italian for a small gathering spot, usually family-run, for sharing small plates." Aged balsamic vinaigrette, very good and not too sweet, swallowed up by olive oil is perfect for dipping slices of the Mediterra Bakehouse ciabatta that I have a crush on. Silent nods and knowing smiles communicate the need for restraint, and we forstall a second basket as our little group contemplates the bevy of appetizers with voracious curiosity, osteria-style: olive marinade, a zany bowl of mixed olives in a tangy homemade marinade; bruschetta ai funghi, sautéd portobello, shiitake and cremini mushrooms with fresh basil on grilled ciabatta; formaggi e salumi, an exquisite assortment of imported cheeses and cured meats; and wild-caught Texas shrimp sautéd with garlic, olive oil, organic cherry tomatoes, white wine and fresh parsley. A small plate of pan-seared sea scallops, pressed into service as a special that evening, is topped with a colorful pepper and scallion compote made with leeks and shallots and drizzled with truffle oil, which our server said "sends it over the top." Lest you get the idea that we are all about olives, mushrooms and pasta, I vouch for other dishes on other nights: a virtuous, wild Atlantic salmon filet with white wine, garlic, shallots and fresh parsley served with asparagus, cherry tomatoes and mashed potatoes. A rich, tender prime-center-cut filet mignon is the same price as a 10 ounce aged New York strip. We chose the juicy, flavorful strip, perfectly cooked, served with sautéd spinach and Yukon gold potatoes, diced and tossed with prosciutto and sage. The house's daily grigliata mista di pesce, a selection of grilled fish and shellfish with saffron risotto and Sicilian eggplant caponata, might just be my favorite. Great meals are not built in minutes, and I prefer a little space between courses. Dish pays attention to rhythm. "Like Elvin Jones' seamless transitions on the up-tempo jazz tune 'Midnight Walk,' timely pauses unite the meal," opines Brad. With Prantl's almond torte awaiting us at home in the 'fridge, Dish's desserts had a high hurdle to surmount, but the drive for sugar runs strong in our family's genetic code. Then we overheard a customer complimenting Savoia's mother-in-law Joan's confections and we decided the torte could wait. Pumpkin cheesecake with homemade whipped cream cleared the bar, while a silky, surreal panna cotta, cooked cream with vanilla paste drizzled with a mixed berry glaze overcomes provinciality, odd but refreshing. Dessert footnotes: If you eat late, the list shortens. And, there is no plain old regular American coffee. Fortunately, espresso and cappuccino are like a sixth sense, appealing whether your brain is craving caffeine or not. "Some people think it's because I'm a snob," says Savoia. "It's simply because I don't have enough room." As you move your way back out, new Valentine's Day memories can be made. Bubble-shaped stained-glass lampshades, strung evenly over the bar counter emit the same unblinking magic of a child with a box full of puppy-love notes.
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February, 2006
Co-critiquing this night was my sister, Megan McDonald, from California, where herbs grow thick as weeds on the roadside, taking a Pittsburgh pit stop during her national speaking/book-signing tour for her children’s "Judy Moody" series. "Subtract the price tags and Pittsburgh accents and you have a Sonoma Valley restaurant," marveled Megan in disbelief. "Here, whiff the cloud of basil," she said, poking me with her plate of fettucine ai funghi e spinach - fettucine with the same three mushrooms we loved in our appetizer, sautéd in extra-virgin olive oil with garlic and spinach, parmigiano reggiano and more fresh-chopped basil - truly one of the most incredible fragrances on earth. "I know, I know," I said, poking her back with my linguine ai frutti di mare - linguine in white-wine sauce clinging to fresh mussels, clams and shrimp. I will not soon forget the wreath-like effect created by arranging the seafood around a mound of pasta. (The Setaro pasta is from Naples). The flavors are lovely together. 
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