Tavolata: Italian for "Meh"?
Firsts are often judged, fairly or no, by the possibility of seconds. Reviewers constantly praise first novels for their “potential,” college grads expound on the “marketability” of their first jobs, and, well, there’s that first time in the sack. And after last night’s dinner at Tavolata with my darling fellow Metrobloggers [mb], I find myself reaching for similar phrases of gently disapproving hopefulness.
Take, for instance, the space the restaurant occupies. It could be an urban take on typical rustic Italian decor, with its exposed brick walls and tightly packed tables. But instead, it’s just loud, cramped, and plain. Or say, the fried polenta: nicely crispy, but rather tasteless and a bit too oily. Or even the gnocchi alla romana, baked underneath a drape of mozzarella: more than a little burnt tasting and mushy, but with a flavorful sauce. And the zeppole at dessert? I loved the sprightly lemon, but found them too chewy to be memorable.
All told, the young Tavolata (opened merely ten weeks ago) has, well, potential. And like so many firsts, it’s that potential that’s most frustrating: it could be great, but it just needs a little more experience and maturity to reach that greatness. But to break with the analogy (or maybe not!), the potential just isn’t enough for me to wait around and find out.
I was thinking about this today and decided that I really like the simplicity and minimalism of the space. I agree that the high ceilings and noise don’t make it the best place for a large group, but it does explain how the close seating is able to function for lots of small parties in close proximity as it’s really difficult to hear the conversations of people sitting only a few seats away.
As someone whose primary sustenance often trends heavily in the direction of trader joe, breakfast cereal, and whatever takeout is the most convenient to the place where hunger strikes, I admit that I’m not a qualified food critic. That said, I was fond of pretty much everything I tried as even the ricotta gnocchi (remarkable for its welcome lack of overwhelming flavors [1]) played into unhealthy fascination with fried starch products.
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1. I say this as fondly as possible. After years, I still mourn Local Cafe’s move from my neighborhood. With their relocation to Bainbridge went the most deliciously bland scones I have ever become addicted to.