248 Water St.
Ph. 739-6978
Tuscany is a region of Italy that has attained a status - in the minds of many North Americans - of near mystical proportion; reminding me of the way James Hilton’s characters first viewed Shangri-La in his 1933 novel, Lost Horizon. Provence had a similar grasp on people’s imaginations years before, especially after the publication of Peter Mayle’s, A Year in Provence, Encore Provence and Toujours Provence. Latterly, books on Tuscany have helped create the “Provence effect” for that blessed area of northern Italy. I’m talking about publications like, Under the Tuscan Sun and Bella Tuscany by Frances Mayes. Is it any wonder St. John’s now has a restaurant with the name, The Tuscan Door?
I have been as susceptible as anyone to Madison Avenue marketing where Tuscany is concerned. Let’s face it, when we live in a country of persistent challenging weather - a subject I know something about - it doesn’t take a hell of a lot of subliminal or more obvious persuasion to make you at least a little curious about a land of gold-soaked skies, azure hills and food fit for God.
On my first visit to the Tuscan Door a server by the name of John Barela greeted my guest and me. As it turned out John Barela is also a partner in the business along with executive chef, Fred French. Many would know John from his previous life as a musician on the St. John’s music scene. Those of a particular vintage might even remember Johnny Barela as a member of the sixties band, The Fourth Agreement. A highlight for the group was appearing on CBC Television’s The Now Generation.
To begin I ordered a vodka martini with lemon. John Barela made it and it was the best vodka martini I’ve ever had. He claimed he’s not experienced in mixing drinks but I didn’t believe him.
There’s no way a neophyte could have mixed that drink. It was pure alchemy.
The Tuscan Door’s menu was smartly designed. Its cover featured a traditional stained Tuscan double-door - with rounded top - framed by the faded façade of a Tuscan villa. Above the door the name of the restaurant was written in a stylized script, while underneath appeared the words “menu di sera” (evening menu).
I perused the menu enjoying my martini and while there was no question about its Italian ness, it was not particularly Tuscan. Where was the Tuscan bread salad, the schiacciata con l’uva (a rich pastry dessert)? In fact, one item, Bananas Foster, stuck out like the proverbial “sore thumb.” It’s a great dessert, but what were they thinking? Ella Brennan of the famous Brennan’s Restaurant family in New Orleans invented Bananas Foster and New Orleans is a long way from Tuscany.
Our first food was a plateful of The Tuscan Door’s own asparagus bread. It was substantial bread - by that I mean not light and airy - with a robust asparagus aroma. It tasted good on its own but really improved with the addition of some garlic butter that John Barela referred to as “Caesar butter.” I give them full marks for serving such uniquely flavoured bread.
Being a mushroom lover, and because the dish seemed so Tuscan, I chose The Tuscan Door’s mushroom bruschetta – “sautéed mushrooms and Italian cheeses baked until crispy.” It was delicious with lots of earthy mushroom flavour. Plenty of meaty, cooked mushroom slices underneath what tasted like melted mozzarella were piled atop several crunchy pieces of crostini (toasted bread). It could easily have been served at a Tuscan table.
My guest had The Tuscan Door’s fresh tomato soup with Gorgonzola. It too was very good, peppery and deep-red rich. A triangle raft of bread was floating on it laden with melted blue-veined Gorgonzola, one of Italy’s most famous cheeses. I love this kind of soup because it’s an uncomplicated mix of ingredients, cooked long enough to bring out all the satisfying flavours contained within each ingredient.
The Tuscan Door’s décor and ambience was very conducive to pleasant dining. Round tables on gold carpeting featured white tablecloths and bottles of balsamic vinegar and olive oil - for flavouring your salad or pasta or using as bread dip. White mini-lights twinkled like stars on metal vines that decorated the walls, along with metal wine racks. Add to all that the sounds of Because of You and Who Can I Turn To being produced by Tony Bennett’s fabulous instrument and you have the makings of a perfect restaurant experience. Perfect if only The Tuscan Door had avoided the most common pitfall of Newfoundland restaurants…overcooking its seafood and meat.
Overcooking
meat may be genetic with Newfoundland cooks or it may be a standard adopted by
restaurants to please the Newfoundland palate. God knows, there are very few of
us who seem to be able to handle meat with much juice running from it, and God
forbid the juice should have a pinkish tinge. I now refuse to cook steak for
one friend because I can’t bring myself to cook the steak to the point where it
has the flavour, texture and consistency of a shower mat. Besides, in the time
it takes to do that I can read a short novel, a much more productive endeavor.
I’m reminded of a story the late Alan King used to tell about his mother who
was a notoriously bad cook. He said his mother always burned her meat, fish and
fowl to a crisp “because she wanted to make sure it was dead!”
The Tuscan Door's pasta di pesci was an eye-catching dish. A mound of perfectly
cooked fettuccine - tossed in a creamy sauce with hints of basil and orvietto
wine - sat in the middle of a large oval plate. The pasta was topped with
grilled squid - tentacles plus cut strips - bay scallops and shrimp. Around the
perimeter of the plate, positioned like soldiers guarding a pasta fort, were
delicious, big, juicy mussels. However, the squid was beyond rubbery and the
scallops had lost much of their moisture from overcooking. This dish had lots
going for it – like, appropriate seasoning, and good presentation - but,
unfortunately, my enjoyment of it was tempered because some important
ingredients were kept on the heat too long.
While I chose surf, my guest chose turf. His Tuscany roasted pork loin looked
extremely appetizing. Large slices of pork colourfully stuffed with pieces of
fire-roasted red pepper, bocconcini cheese and wilted spinach sat beside a
broccoli/cauliflower mixture and chunks of golden brown oven-roasted potato.
Underneath the pork lingered a dark, viscous, glossy sweet rum jus with a
fruity flavour that went very well with the pork. The vegetables were tasty and
cooked properly. But, again, my complaint with this dish was overcooking. The
pork was dry and, consequently, what should have been a sensational dish was
just ordinary.
I was
disappointed not to see more Italian desserts on The Tuscan Door's menu, like
semifreddo and pannecotta. They did offer tiramisu, the famous treat created in
1971 at Le Beccherie in Treviso, Italy. Many different versions of the dessert
have developed over the years but most will include at least a few of the
ingredients from the classic recipe. Strong espresso coffee is essential,
zabaglione custard is helpful but variations can be used and ladyfingers are
often substituted by sponge cake. I enjoyed The Tuscan Door's version although
it wasn't quite the pick-me-up I thought it should be. Tiramisu literally means
"pick-me-up" in Italian because of the caffeine in the espresso. Espresso
is what I found lacking in The Tuscan Door's tiramisu. It was there but only
faintly.
The Tuscan Door has a warm, appealing atmosphere, enhanced by some intoxicating
aromas from the kitchen. Much of its appeal has to do with the intimacy created
by its small size. That's why reservations might be a good idea if you plan to
visit. Who knows, John Barela might even play a tune for you.
Our dinner for two, including drinks, two glasses of wine and tip, cost
$121.14.
Best Points:
Pleasant food and atmosphere.
Areas for Improvement:
Try not to overcook your meat and seafood.
Ratings Category:
The Tuscan Door gets 7.5 points out of 10.