Good portions in Ivanhoe
Thompson: Sette offers rich desserts, fresh pasta meals and generous sides.
There have been previous incidents of impact in my life, but this time I got the number of the truck that hit me following a Saturday night dinner at Sette.
It was 100. Precisely the proof of the vodka Chef Trina GregoryPropst employs when crafting the bistro’s housemade limoncello. With which I am deeply in love and want to marry. And yes, that is most definitely the alcohol talking.
The sweet and citrusy digestif came in a diminutive and delicate vessel, however. So, maybe the truck was the lemon cake ($11). It makes sense, since the slice they serve is just about the size of one.
Is it weird that this recount naturally opened itself on the dessert portion of my first visit?
It might be, except of course that Sette is the new Italian offering from the folks who brought you the chocolate-pecan-bourbonbacon-biscuit-Benedictbrownie-biscotti-bar cookie bakery theme park of Se7en Bites, and then brought it to Guy Fieri, who brought it to the world, which one could feed on this mighty slab of olive oil cake.
My dining companion so enjoyed its mascarpone buttercream, he wished it had been layered in elsewhere. It’s all subjective, of
course, so I’ll offer otherwise. This cake, with its tart bite of rosemary lemon curd between moist, dense layers (a great, heavy wad stuck to my fork when held upside-down), and lighthanded lacquer of buttercream was, in this world of overstuffed whoopie pies, simple perfection. Formidable. Fruity. Just sweet enough.
Welcoming is a word I’d use, in fact. And we couldn’t have felt more so on either visit.
The first saw our arrival later than expected — I’d called ahead to let them know — but at primetime on a Saturday, and amid a lengthy deluge of summer rain. There was a collection of cold, wet umbrellas near the door, but the smiles were warm. Our estimated 25-minute wait was barely 10 before we were escorted from bar to table through the jolly din of the dining room.
The second was early on a weeknight, tables aplenty, no reservations, but the reception? No different.
Nor was the service, which seemed fleet-like. There were primary servers, but support was abundant. Staffers checked in, ran food, stopped to chat, answer questions, offer recommendations. In two dinners, my guests and I had perhaps 20 positive touch points, from reception to bar to dining room.
Rainy nights and Italian restaurants both call for carbs, so we went all in with both the arancini ($11) and the bread board ($11) — a tricky dining maneuver heretofore known as the “Reverse Atkins.” The rice balls were melty, sweet fig and balsamic dancing to the bass of that gorgonzola funk. And speaking of funk, I was glad to be sharing the board’s garlic confit with my dinner partner to avoid offending — less so the Marcona almonds, which I’d gladly have kept to myself.
We couldn’t skip the one-noodle lasagna ($23), about which fans rave. This is no ramekin version, but a snake of firm, fresh pasta and cheesy innards curled in a ladle of Bolognese, atop a ladle of creamy béchamel.
A red, white and goo “Inception” of lasagnas, if you will, served in an open bowl.
Folks love the stuff. My dining partner loved it. And if you’re a “saucy” kind of person who digs baked pasta, you’ll likely love it, too.
Potato-crusted halibut was a special that night and not a typical order for me, but I was seduced by the server’s enthusiasm (once home, I lost sleep over missing the clam linguine).
The Brussels sprouts stole the filet’s thunder — so beautifully prepared and delicious, I could have eaten a standalone bowl (an aside about Sette’s sides: they’re generous — many
could qualify as standalone bowls!), but the halibut suffered a bit despite a tasty cage of spuds. It’s a lean, dense fish, and can dry quickly if overcooked.
Vegetarians are not forgotten at Sette. Case in point, the meatball appetizer ($11), four generous balls atop polenta and a luscious tomato gravy — each with a jaunty little “hat” of ricotta — is available in both beef/pork and eggplant varieties. On the second visit, we opted for a half-half order. The traditional won out, but mostly for its firmer, more traditional meatball texture. That polenta and sauce, though? Mop-worthy.
It’s called tomato “jam” on the menu, but I’d swear they’re putting the same delicious meatball “gravy” on the eggplant parm ($19). The sweet, juicy hunks of tomato, had us ignoring the pesto cream bucatini on the other side of the plate.
That night, the dessert special was a deconstructed cheesecake of sorts, wide slivers of chocolate biscotti fanned out in an airy cheesecake cream that was all inspired, Chef Trina confessed, by the chocolate balsamic vinegar coating the Plant City strawberries alongside.
It was fun and handsy. A dessert chip-and-dip. My charming friend, classy as school on Saturday, told the chef she’d like a tub of the stuff to take home and eat in bed.
It’s a common thread at Sette, that desire to overdo it. The cheesecake, the tomato jam, that luscious lemon cake — no matter if you prefer curd or cream. I want to co-opt GregoryPropst proponent Fieri, in fact, as I have no cute catchphrases of my own.
I’d eat any of these on a flip-flop.
Another half-glass of that limoncello and I might try all three at once.