By Emily Codik
By Valeria Nekhim
By Hannah Sentenac
By Valeria Nekhim
By Carla Torres
By Emily Codik
By Carina Ost
By Laine Doss
Members of Italian famiglie are known for their loyalty to one another. And I'm not referring to the stereotypes portrayed in such sagas as The Godfather. The sort of dedication I have in mind is more the loving kind -- the relationship of husband to wife, sister to brother, grandmother to grandchild, imbued with a commitment that is passed down through the generations.
But as is often the case with strong emotions, they can easily swing from one extreme to another.
Nino Pernetti (Caffe Baci, Caffe Abbracci) must have thought of Domenico Diana as family. Diana began as a head waiter at Baci on the restaurant's opening day, and over time rose in the ranks to manager and eventually partner. Then a Tuscan grill chef was brought in from California, leading to marked changes in Baci's cuisine, sparking controversy among patrons and staff. One month after the chef's arrival, Diana split from the "family" business, breaking away from his mentor to start a place of his own.
When a lawyer leaves a firm, he often leaves his clients behind. But some, having taken a liking to that particular lawyer, will follow him. Domenico's has been operating in the Coral Gables business district for about two months now, and those of Baci's former clientele who remain loyal to Diana have taken that long to find it, and the man who had made them welcome.
It wasn't so much a question of family loyalties that kept them away, but a question of timing and, perhaps, location. Domenico's took its proprietor four months to perfect, and he opened to a reception he had never once imagined -- a stand-up-and-take-notice wind, of all things, that came ripping into the Gables. Hurricane Andrew's legacy certainly eliminated any necessity diners might have had to secure a reservation days in advance.
Andrew hasn't been Domenico's only concern. Nestled into a strip of buildings on Ponce de Leon Boulevard, Domenico's marker is a small sign, painted red and green like the Italian flag. I might expect to see this over a pizza joint; it works there. But Domenico's is about as far from a joint as oregano.
If being difficult to find isn't troubling enough, there's the competition with, and comparison to, Caffe Baci. I won't dwell on that point, though a comparative review in a situation like this is inevitable and not unfair. It's enough for me that Domenico's is not a trendy trattoria, nor an Italian eatery; you won't find the Beach crowds dressed in black Spandex here. This alone is a good reason to come. An even better reason? The rarity of an Old World style in a New World city, perhaps the most interesting thing Domenico's has to offer.
Several aspects of the restaurant appealed to me in a romantic sense. For one, the atmosphere is an excess of pleasant. The dining room is elegantly European, contemporary and comfortable, finished off by a huge flower arrangement in the center of the room.
The quality of service was also a pleasantry -- mannered, well-spoken, and polite, not to mention prompt. The entire staff was as rehearsed as a play, most likely due to Diana's management experience. Indeed, it was his behavior that impressed me the most, an unpretentious invitation to the royal treatment.
There is no set way for an owner to behave that will ensure the success of his restaurant. I've seen owners lurk in their own basements, eavesdropping on the activity above. I've seen them slink in unannounced to dine, hoping to catch their waitstaff in an inappropriate gesture. Some enjoy a celebrity standing and, covered with stardust, greet only those diners deemed equal in status. And I worked under one gentleman who, being his own chef, would emerge from the kitchen in his dirty whites and buss strangers on the cheek with his sweaty mustache. Each in his own way may enjoy success.
But if behavior alone were the basis on which I judge, Domenico's would certainly rate as a favorite. Ever courtly, Mr. Diana saluted my companion by the name under which the reservation had been made and shook his hand. (More familiar patrons received the double-edged air kiss.) Of course, assumption can be deadly -- he wished a woman with a Jewish-sounding name a "Happy New Year" -- but at least he made an effort to get to know his customers, and I felt properly welcomed.
If only this degree of effort had been made with the menu. It's represented as innovative, but there's nothing outstanding about it. For instance, the air-cured beef in my bresaola del San Bernadino appetizer ($6.95) was as thin as an onion skin, the grana grated on top sharp and lingering. And my partner's crostacei della scogliera ($5.95), a clam and mussel stew tossed in fish broth with a touch of pesto (and a ton of salt), boasted the freshest shellfish, now that the "red tide" months have gone out. The desire is clearly there, and perhaps even the talent -- but the imagination is missing from the very start. Hot and cold antipasti include such standards as fried calamari and zucchini ($5.95), mozzarella in an Italian dressing ($6.95), carpaccio ($6.95), and funghi boscaiolo ($7.95), a marinated and grilled assortment of mushrooms. Even at their highest, most finely tuned levels, these dishes are borrowed from traditional menus.