FT's desserts, though, could turn an ascetic monk into an insatiable cormorant. Of these, the crochette were a fantasy come true: a tall bowl of ameretti beignets (think donut holes), sprinkled with powdered sugar, and accompanied by a tiny, three-slotted condiment tray, with chocolate, raspberry, and caramel dipping sauces. These crochette made an indelible impression on me, and I'd go back just to have them again. All praise is due FT's pastry chef Elizabeth Katz, for whom I'd now like to declare my undying love, after the manner of Pepé Le Pew in those Looney Tunes cartoons. After all, didn't Pepé have a thing for "cats" painted to look like female skunks?
Even if Ms. Katz fails to return my affection, Fiamma Trattoria will remain on the list of places I'll take folks whenever I want to impress them. Assuming, of course, they are willing to steer clear of the pasta.
E-mail stephen.lemons@newtimes.com
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