 LUCA ARRIVES
DOWNTOWN
Contemporary Italian food,
lively street scene make
for an entertaining evening
By RON BECHTOL
Photography JANET ROGERS
Why not, we thought: Let’s
make a mini-vacation of
it. We agreed to meet for a
drink downtown at Zinc
Champagne and Wine Bar, then to wander
through La Villita to our final destination,
the new Luca Ristorante Enoteca
at the Fairmount Hotel.
I suppose I could have spent more
time contemplating the details of this
scenario, but Dining Companion more
than made up for any sartorial slights on
my part. She arrived with a new ‘do and
a short dress that conjured immediate
thoughts of the famous Marilyn Monroe
image. Where was a street grate when
you really needed one?
Under the circumstances, Campari
and soda, ruby red with a slash of
lemon-wedge yellow, seemed the perfect
choice. It was light, refreshing and
played perfectly against white dress and
streaked blonde hair. Alamo Kiwanis
Club volunteers were hawking tickets to
Fiesta Noche del Rio at the Arneson
River Theater as we made our way
through the 200-year old settlement;
given a little more time, we might have
made that a part of the package as well.
A simple snack at Zinc would have
tided us over. But food beckoned. It had
apparently called to others as well, for
Luca was lively at 7 p.m. on a Friday. They
were 95 percent locals, confirmed
owner/manager Dan Ward afterwards.
Apparently, the notion of a downtown
vacation wasn’t new with us.
We were seated at a window table,
backs to the handsomely redone and
opened-up space that most recently
housed Sage, but front row center on the
passing parade that is Alamo Street. A guy
with a bagpipe walked by. (I’m not making
this up.) A horse-drawn carriage, wreathed
in tacky but somehow appropriate plastic
flowers, pulled up to the corner, its occupants
oblivious to all but each other. And
this was just the beginning; the antipasti
were going to have a lot of competition.
 They tried their best. Of the calamari
fritti, it’s probably fair to say they’re among
the best in town. Dipped in semolina,
they’re crunchy and reasonably tender,
and the addition of fried basil and charred
radicchio is a visual plus. DC actually preferred
the occasional semolina-dusted and
fried pepperoncini to the squid and found
the limoncello aioli perilously close to tartar
sauce. I have to agree on that one, and
wish the roasted tomato basil sauce had
more pizzazz, but the serving is more than
generous (share it), and the overall impression
a good one.
First impressions of the peppered buffalo
carpaccio were more than good; the
paper-thin rounds of passionately pink
meat are topped by an arugula salad
strewn with bits of Gorgonzola and
accented with caper berries, and the
plate is handsome indeed. (Oops; there
goes a reclining biker.) Yet it needed
something. A little Maldon or sel gris
would have done nicely.
Everything’s there; it just needs to be
brought into focus.
Luca’s menu doesn’t necessarily treat
pastas as a primo piatto; with Americans
it’s usually pasta or main plate but not
both. But we were on vacation, and splitting a plate of pasta as a primo seemed just the thing to do as
a pair of on-line skaters cruised by our window in the wake of
parents pushing a baby stroller. The braised short rib ravioli
being a favorite from a previous visit (and the linguini
putanesca coming across as a little too lusty on another), we
opted for the Yukon Gold gnocchi spangled with fresh snap
peas, roasted peppers and sweet corn. (A friend from nearby
King William pulled up on her orange motor scooter; it was
beginning to seem just like Rome. All we needed were a few
cats. And, of course, some romantic ruins. The decaying structures
in HemisFair Park would have to do, alas.)
The gnocchi, not always that easy to pull off, were
Platonically pillowy, it must be said, but the lemon scallion
sauce was too acidic. Butter, cheese (there was parmigiano),
cream — any and all of the above would work, even with
lemon accents.
The interior lights dimmed at about this time, making our
view to the exterior even better. Passers-by could still look in,
though, and for some reason most tended to smile if you made
eye contact. A runner loped along on the opposite side of the
street as a continuous stream of families and folks passed our
vantage point — coming from where and with what destination
in mind we could only guess.
 Glasses of flowery Feudi di San Gregorio Falanghini aided in
the illusion of being elsewhere, and it was with a sense of coming
back to earth that we greeted the arrival of the entrées, just
as a pedicab crossed our collective field of vision. If the exterior
distraction had sometimes been welcome before, it would not be
now; the entrée plates held our full and focused attention.
And they deserved it. Grilled striped sea bass served atop
sautéed spinach accented with bits of pancetta and slices of
apple was a visual tour de force and a taste triumph. It was delicate
enough to work with the remains of the white wine, yet
adequately substantial in the face of the Deloach Russian River
Pinot Noir. (DC only humors me with white wines; in truth, she
can’t wait to get to the reds.)
A glass of Italian primitivo was, even by her score, a little
much with the fish, but it was perfectly calibrated to Luca’s
braised pork loin crusted with smoked paprika (really Spanish,
but this was turning out to be a global vacation) and served
with “Sicilian Style” potatoes (capers were a part of that equation),
quickly grilled asparagus and a sage Madeira sauce. OK,
for me the sauce was a little sweet — just a touch — but most
folks would likely disagree. And by any definition, the dish was
a success. We finished both just as a parade of antique VWs
made its way north toward Alamo Plaza.
For dessert, we decided to take a turn toward Provence and
have both the orange lavender crème brûlée and the chocolate
honey lavender tart. This was not a mistake. (A cavalcade of
kids on low-slung street bikes was now heading south on the
sidewalk.) Both the orange and lavender were appropriately
delicate in the perfectly crusty brûlée, and the flavors of the tart
were right on target; the accessory blackberries, marinated in
whiskey, were sensational.
We exited to a full moon (I’m not making this up either) and the
kind of balmy air that does indeed evoke Provence. Fiesta Noche
del Rio was still going strong as we retraced our steps past the
Arneson — just another ordinary night in summer San Antonio.
LUCA
RISTORANTE ENOTECA
405 S. Alamo St. (210) 888-7030
Dinner, M-Th, 4-10 p.m.; Fri-Sat, 4-11 p.m.; Sun, 3-10 p.m.
Also open for lunch M-Sat, 11 a.m. - 4 p.m.; breakfast M-Sat,
and brunch Sun. |
