Pasta Fest happens once a year for four weekdays at Casbah, which is a favorite happy hour site of mine (when I can afford things like happy hour). Casbah is one of the upscale Big Burrito restaurants, and I was frankly shocked to discover that some people on Yelp are less than amazed by their quality and service, because 1) I consider myself an extremely exacting judge of restaurants, both in terms of food and service, and 2) every experience I've had at Casbah has been delightful. I mean, as you'll see below, I can always find something to pick on, but I was particularly amazed that some Yelpers were less than satisfied with the service. I have always, always had the absolute best service at Casbah. (In fact, all of the Big Burrito restaurants, even the Mad Mexes, have good service in my experience, and it's much to the credit of the company.) Perhaps it helps to be a "regular" (during the school year, I'm usually there for wine over reading or quiz grading once a week), and perhaps it helps to frequent the bar -- Ted and I tend to be bar eaters -- but in any case, I love Casbah. My mother is planning a birthday dinner for herself there next month, and I think I will finally give the restaurant a proper review then. Until then, I just wanted to share with you my delight over Pasta Fest.
Pasta Fest is pretty self-explanatory: a special menu of small-serving pasta dishes. A few of the pastas are on the regular menu, so I'd recommend avoiding those, as you can try them any time. (If you're curious, the regular menu items offered in smaller portions for Pasta Fest are the Orecchiette, the Short Rib Ravioli, the Red Pepper Casereccia, the Veal Tortelloni, and the Ricotta Cavatelli, if memory serves. I'm not saying these aren't very good -- especially the Casereccia and the Cavatelli -- but I'm saying that you can try these dishes at non-Pasta Fest times.) Ted and I made our Pasta Fest visit coincide with happy hour, to save some cash: $6 wines and cocktails at the bar between 5:00 and 7:00. We ended up going through three courses of pastas. My glee knew no end. Allow me to present you with our nommings.
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| I am a sucker for a good potato dumpling. Not to mention some tender lamb. |
Ted's first selection was Potato Gnocchi with braised Elysian Fields lamb shoulder, rapini, cipollini onions, rosemary, and Piave cheese. I believe this was also his favorite dish of the night. The lamb was tender and delicious, as were the gnocchi, and everything was well balanced, though I thought that the lima beans -- yes, there were also lima beans, though they weren't mentioned in the menu description -- were a titch undercooked (also I've never been a huge fan of lima beans). Overall, though, this was excellent.
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| Fine Dining in America is having a "Put an Egg On It" moment, and I don't mind a bit. |
My first selection was Egg Tagliatelle with pancetta, wee little croutons, Appalachian cheese, spinach, fresh oregano, and, of course, a fried egg. I absolutely loved this dish. The richness of the egg yolk alongside the saltiness of the pancetta and the tangy, herbal freshness of the oregano leaves was a wonderful combination, and the tiny croutons added a crunch that kept the dish texturally interesting.
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| Strangely revelatory. |
For our second round, Ted picked Sage Linguini with pork ragu, grilled scallions, Burrata cheese, orange sea salt, and extra virgin olive oil. This dish had strengths and weaknesses. The scallion bulbs should have been sliced in half before they were grilled. And the cheese was a mostly solid mass atop the dish -- it should have been broken into smaller pieces that would have been able to melt into the sauce. However, the pasta itself was quite good, hearty and pleasantly flavored with sage, and the pork ragu provided me with a little revelation: meat sauce doesn't have to involve ground meat. You see, I hate ground meat -- I despise the texture of it. When it's compressed into a sausage I can cope with it, as the compression alters the texture sufficiently, but burgers and meat sauces and standard taco fillings are just anathema to me. This ragu, however, was made of a tangy, tomato-y pulled pork. The pork was tender and there was none of the grainy awfulness of ground meat! I can't believe this never occurred to me before -- I am going to make such a ragu myself in the near future, I can assure you.
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| Skinny noodles: troublesome to cook. |
My second selection was Capellini with goat confit, garlic, spinach, and Calcagno cheese. It was a simple dish, and though not quite as interesting as some of the other plates we tried, it was fresh and well-balanced. Goat, which can be troublesome to cook, was here lean and tender and very well done. The dish's one flaw was the pasta itself. The capellini was so thin that it just couldn't hold up to the big pieces of spinach and cheese on the fork, and it was a bit overcooked -- I'm not sure how anyone could fail to overcook fresh capellini; what do you do, just hold it over the steam of the boiling water for a few seconds? In any event, I spread my little roasted garlic cloves on some of the tasty sourdough that comes with every meal, and was pleased regardless.
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| Certainly the best looking dish of the night. So cheerful! |
My third course was Spinach Torchetti with chanterelle mushrooms, basil, cured egg yolks, and guanciale. Guanciale, it turns out, is cured pork jowl -- yes, I was eating pig face. And I'm here to tell you that pig face is delicious. I liked this dish a great deal. The pasta was eye-catching, substantial, and al dente; the chanterelle mushrooms were delicious and cooked perfectly, toothsome and warmly caramelized; and the guanciale was salty and chewy and outrageously tasty, though I wish it had been sliced a bit more thinly.
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| Kind of makes me wonder about the state of my own liver. |
Ted chose, for his third course, the Rigatoni with Madeira, foie gras, arugula, and rhubarb. My relationship with this plate of pasta was complicated. On one hand, I totally get what was going on, and I think if I had been another human being, I would have liked it a great deal: the ultra-rich fattiness of the foie gras alongside the tartness of the rhubarb and the slight bitterness of the arugula, all balanced with the slight sweetness of the Madeira and the heartiness of the pasta shape ... this might have been the most well-constructed plate of the night. Except: I hate rhubarb. Rhubarb is the devil. So ... where does that leave us? Well, it leaves us with undercooked rigatoni, but that was a different problem. I think in the end, it was a good dish -- it's not Casbah's fault I hate rhubarb.
Hilariously, Ted learned what foie gras is as he was eating it. I honestly didn't know he didn't know when he ordered the dish. So when he asked me what was so delicious, as he savored the rich little chunks of diseased organ, I explained to him about force-fed geese and ducks and fatty liver. He renounced foie gras on the spot, mid plate; I finished the liver for him. I also pointed out his hypocrisy vis a vis animal cruelty and the factory farmed chicken wings he loves so much at Sidelines; he looked chagrined. I think Ted might be creeping back towards vegetarianism -- or, at least, more ethical eating. Jonathan Safran Foer, you might be winning a slow victory in the Spiher Robinson house.
So that's your food porn for the day. Pasta Fest is still going on today and tomorrow, so if you want to treat yourself to some magical carbs, there's still time. Oh, and if you're curious about the wines, I can only speak to the happy hour menu, but I'd recommend the Casal Garcia Vinho Verde -- it's crisp and effervescent and perfect for hot days like these -- and they also have a delightful sparkling lambrusco on the happy hour wine list at the moment, and it's just fun -- I mean, how often do you get a sparkling lambrusco anywhere? (And no, it's not that dreadful Riunite crap.)
I realize that there's some irony to me posting this right after I posted a blog about being broke. I want you to know that I charged the whole meal and I regret absolutely nothing -- Pasta Fest comes but once a year, and you'll pry my noodles from my cold dead hands, bank balances notwithstanding.
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