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Bistecca, 7014 East Camelback (Scottsdale Fashion Square), Scottsdale, 481-7800. Hours: Lunch, Monday through Friday, 11:30 a.m. to 2:30 p.m.; Dinner, Sunday through Thursday, 5 to 10 p.m.; Friday and Saturday, 5 to 11 p.m.
Me? I've been on the lookout for a first-rate, moderately priced steak house. But I haven't had much luck.
Steak houses are probably the 1990s' hottest restaurant segment. That may seem odd--after all, calorie- and cholesterol-obsessed Americans consume only half as much beef as they did a generation ago. But we compensate by ordering steak when we eat out, a Saturday-night reward for our virtuous chicken-fish-salad restraint the rest of the week.
Unfortunately, outstanding beef isn't cheap. A high-end filet, sirloin, rib eye or porterhouse ranges from $25 to $35 at top Valley steak houses, not a range most folks can feel at home on.
I've tried finessing the cost by opting for quality over frequency: I'd rather have a great $30 steak twice a year than a so-so $20 steak every four months.
If I ever came across a steak house whose $20 beef could compete with a $30 prime-grade slab, I'd be forced to recalculate my cost analysis. Experience, though, has made me skeptical about such a discovery. After eating in dozens of forgettable moderately priced steak joints over the years, I figured I had a better shot of coming across the Tooth Fairy.
At least, that's what I thought until I discovered Bistecca. By ordering judiciously, quality-minded carnivores can rip into topnotch animal protein, without taking out a home-equity loan.
Opened in October, Bistecca was developed by a California restaurant group that's also behind such Bay Area hits as Fog City Diner, Mustards Grill and Betelnut. If this Bistecca works out--the Fashion Square unit is the first--the company plans to roll out Bisteccas all over America. I say: Let the good times roll.
The design is well-thought-through. Bistecca is casually elegant, in a Scottsdale sort of way. That means an open kitchen, where diners can watch the action taking place beneath the striking, copper-hooded grill. It means thick white linen and hefty cutlery on the table, vaguely abstract art on the walls and colorful floral arrangements around the room. The annoyingly loud music, however, seems seriously out of place, especially since the place is already noisily abuzz with good-time chatter and clatter. On one particularly busy Friday-night visit, I had to take some deep breaths and chant several "Omms" to calm myself down.
The concept is tightly focused. Despite the name--Bistecca is Italian for "beef steak"--by no stretch of the imagination is this an Italian restaurant. But the name does prepare you for the Italian touches, which, along with the high-quality fare, help distinguish Bistecca from the rest of the steak-house pack.
The execution is just about as polished as the concept, except for a few remediable glitches. Among them are the unworthy dips accompanying the wonderful Italian bread. On one visit, it was an off-putting spicy oil-and-vinegar blend. On another, it was inferior olive oil.
However, there's very little unworthy about the appetizers. I'd go so far as to say that the crispy roasted polenta, draped in a dreamy wild mushroom sauce, is one of the best things I've put my lips around this year. Starter salads are outstanding. Full-flavored red and yellow teardrop tomatoes belie the season, and they're temptingly paired with lightly fried strips of red onion and a sprinkling of blue cheese. The suave Belgian endive salad is touched up with apples, candied walnuts and blue cheese. But I have a quibble with the decision to use made-in-America prosciutto, which comes teamed with pear and arugula. This ham is not in the same league as the best Italian models.
Even though the menu offers a few seafood and pasta alternatives for your group's non-beef-eater, make no mistake: Bistecca deals in meat, especially beef. Some of it is terrific; all of it gives you your money's worth.
There are four cuts of beef: porterhouse, rib eye, filet mignon and New York sirloin strip. Both the porterhouse and rib eye are served for two. That means you shouldn't come here alone--they're what Bistecca does best.
The kitchen uses a porterhouse for its bistecca alla Fiorentina, Tuscany's classic steak dish. It's 32 ounces of sizzling, bone-in, beefy perfection, rolled up on a cart and carved tableside. Part of the Bistecca shtick is the option of having it coated one of four ways: with sea salt; wild oregano; grilled lemon and parsley; or balsamic vinegar. I'm not sure it needs any boost at all. And don't forget to ask the server to wrap up the bone, so your "dog" will have something wonderful to gnaw on later.
The huge rib eye, also set on a bone, looks like it came from a mastodon. It's as remarkable as the porterhouse. When rib eye is good, no other cut can beat its combination of tenderness, flavor and texture. Bistecca's rib eye is not only good, it's real good.
One problem: We ordered the steak medium, and it arrived blood-red rare. Naturally, the server rushed it back to the kitchen for more grilling. But a serious steak house shouldn't need two cracks to get a steak cooked right. Let's hope time will work out this grilling kink.