By Heather Hoch
By Eric Schaefer
By New Times
By Rachel Miller
By Eric Schaefer
By Heather Hoch and Lauren Saria
By Robrt L. Pela
By Heather Hoch
Why is it that food sophisticates--and I cheerfully admit I'm one of them--turn up their noses at chain restaurants?
We elitists can offer several reasons, and they all seem utterly convincing. There's the cookie-cutter mentality--every branch looks exactly the same, every branch menu reads exactly the same. We resent the pitch to mass tastes. When you're feeding the lowest common denominator, culinary creativity and bold flavors aren't prized. We are also unhappy that policy is set in corporate headquarters, where the bean counters rule, and not the kitchen, where the chef has the final word. In short, we have come to expect chain-restaurant fare to be dull, limited and predictable.
But it doesn't have to be that way. Mass production, whether in the factory or kitchen, isn't necessarily an evil. When Henry Ford came out with the Model-T, the joke was that you could buy any color you wanted, as long as it was black. And the auto wasn't nearly as elegant a way to travel as, say, a Pullman sleeper. But the Model-T was affordable and ran beautifully. Most important, it gave millions of folks the opportunity to make contacts beyond their farm, village or town. It literally opened up a new world.
Mass-production restaurants have some up sides, too, at least potentially. There's reliability. When you do the same dishes over and over, you're more likely to get them right. Chains can also help spread and popularize food trends. A generation ago, for instance, almost no one outside the Southwest knew about tortillas, and no one beyond big urban ethnic enclaves could recognize a bagel. Just 10 years ago, only the hippest diners had heard of tiramisu or balsamic vinaigrette. Now, they're all mainstream items. And don't forget price. Whether you're manufacturing cars or food, mass production's economies of scale keep costs down.
Why am I suddenly going soft on chains? It's because I just encountered two very different, new-to-the-Valley operations that do commendable work. Scottsdale's Piatti is the 15th in a line of casually upscale Italian restaurants that started in California a decade ago. Cracker Barrel, meanwhile, was born 30 years ago in Tennessee. This down-home, family-friendly place, which serves budget-priced American fare, has almost 350 outlets across America.
Piatti isn't breaking any new Italian culinary ground. But what the corporate kitchen lacks in inventiveness it makes up in skillful preparation. Most everything here is very good. Some of it is first-rate.
The surroundings are just as pleasant as the food. Piatti has an inviting look and feel: an airy room trimmed with polished wood; lots of windows; an open kitchen; and perfect lighting, muted, but still bright enough to read the menu. Somebody, however, needs to shut off the thumpa-thumpa music. Maybe Piatti's youthful staff likes it, but I bet the mostly non-youthful Scottsdale crowd dining here finds the music annoying.
There's nothing annoying about the breadbasket. I couldn't get too excited about the spongy basil focaccia. But the crusty, rustic homebaked Italian loaf is outstanding, good enough to sell retail. For some reason, however, the bread comes with an inane dipping sauce, made from olive oil, balsamic vinegar, garlic and parsley. This isn't a dipping sauce--it's salad dressing.
Appetizers have unexpected flair. Naturally, there's the usual fried calamari. But Piatti adds battered rock shrimp and veggies to the mix, turning an appetizer cliche into something a little more memorable. Hard-hitting homemade venison sausage, teamed with roasted peppers and white beans, also makes a vivid impression. But this dish is so strong-flavored it's hard to follow. I'd take it off the appetizer list and turn it into an entree. And I'd take one evening's appetizer special, sauteed sweetbreads with portabella mushroom, and make it part of the permanent collection. This small, intense starter does just what it's supposed to do--get you primed for the main dish.
And several main dishes will keep you stoked. The homemade gnocchi are some of the best I've had in Arizona. The light potato-flour dumplings are vigorously embellished with roasted portabella mushrooms and arugula, and smothered in a delightfully rich cream sauce. Pappardelle, one evening's pasta special, is almost as compelling. These thick ribbons of noodles come bathed in a robust vodka cream sauce. Had the chef tossed in something other than teensy-weensy bay scallops, this dish might have gone to the head of the class.
Risotto is another special that merits daily exposure. The dish has just the right textures, firm rice in a creamy pool, while grilled shrimp provide tasty adornment.
My heart usually sinks when professional duty obliges me to order veal scaloppine. Let's face it--it's on every Italian menu in town, and it's rarely very thrilling. To my delight, however, Piatti's version got my heart rate up. The sauteed veal is high-quality, and it's lustily paired with wild mushrooms and herbed polenta. This platter deserves serious main-dish consideration.
So does the lovely lamb shank, gorgeous, fall-off-the-bone meat, braised in red wine and deftly accompanied by a butternut squash risotto.