Italian Stallion
From breadsticks to tiramisu, FAUSTO'S KITCHEN keeps it deliciously simple.
By Sara Roahen
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The staff at FAUSTO'S KITCHEN, including co-owner Roland Di Pietro and chef Luis Ramos (left), spice their Italian food with a dash of New Orleans.
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WHAT: Fausto's Kitchen
CUISNE: Italian
WHEN: Lunch and dinner weekdays, dinner Saturday
WHERE: 530 Veterans Memorial Blvd., Metairie, 833-7121
CARDS: Major
Restaurant leftovers usually spoil in my refrigerator. Cold, goopy piles of
food leeching Styrofoam odor are immediate appetite suppressants. But the
spaghetti and meatballs I brought home from Fausto's Kitchen last week was
another story. The following day, my thoughts formed a constant stream of deep
red sauce, a dreamy balance of mild acidity and smoky sweetness, speckled with
chunks of garlic and whole basil leaves.
The remaining ball of finely ground beef bounced in and out of my
consciousness, as sweet memories of the night before tend to do. When I opened
my front door to wafts of Italy and my housemate's mouth stained tomato-gravy
orange, however, I saw red in the more colloquial sense. Fortunately for us
both, Fausto's sells red sauce by the quart when its supply allows.
When brothers Fausto and Roland Di Pietro bought Papa's Po' Boys on
Veterans Memorial Boulevard 10 years ago, they eased Metairie into their
Sicilian-inspired cuisine slowly, conducting experimental trials with the daily
specials. The entire family collaborated in Fausto's kitchen to create a menu
that is punctuated with a "grazie" to Papa and Mama (they immigrated to New
Orleans in 1956), "who first taught us how to appreciate the good food we
encountered after many years of living, eating and cooking Italian."
While Papa and Mama coached Italian, Fausto and Roland incorporated
beloved New Orleanian tastes to make their homespun Italian eatery a Metairie
darling. You won't find a crabcake remoulade on a menu in Sicily, for example,
but I felt no contradiction eating one to the strains of a Puccini opera in the
lace-curtained alcove at Fausto's. And, as if New Orleans were just another
region in Italy, a peppery chopped olive salad with carrots, celery and fresh
oregano was piled high on an antipasto plate also bearing more traditional
spiraled rolls of salami, ham, provolone and mozzarella cheeses. This is the
sort of culinary melding that occurs by nature in this city, this mecca for the
mouth.
In the intimate candlelight alcove, with a view to a wall mural of
Venetian life, four of us sipped Chianti and feasted happily for nearly three
hours one recent Tuesday evening. The service was swift but unhurried, our
plates simple but overflowing, and our food unpretentious but equally as
addictive as the red sauce. We warmed up with the mostly fried seafood
antipasto plate, which in Italy often is served steamed and cold with a
vinaigrette. The most memorable component was an oyster smothered with crabmeat
stuffing and baked in its shell. Underneath, the oyster still bathed in its own
juices, and the stuffing was imbued with subtle oyster flavor from the
steaming.
Two impressions were immediate and lasting: first, staples like
salad dressings and complimentary Parmesan-doused breadsticks (often where
kitchens get lazy) were startlingly memorable. Secondly, someone in the kitchen
has a strong affinity for pepper. We enjoyed it; be forewarned.
Veal saltimbocca is a Roman specialty that loosely translates to
"jump in the mouth." Thin veal cutlets were sauteed with slices of excellent
domestic prosciutto, which sweetened to counter the ham's inherent saltiness
when it caramelized. Melted mozzarella covered both meats. While many
restaurants prepare sauces in bulk at the beginning of the evening, all sauces
at Fausto's are made to order. A marsala wine sauce, buttery and clinging to
the veal, finished the saltimbocca. In the process of deglazing the pan and
flaming the sauce, the alcohol had evaporated so that the marsala afforded deep
yet not bold flavor. All of the entrees were escorted to the table by a large
side of angel hair pasta and the marinara sauce that made me swoon.
The pasta selections at Fausto's are as understated as the lone red
carnation at every table. Forget the cute shapes, the tortellinis and the
raviolis. Here, it's variations on the basic long and thin pasta theme:
linguine, angel hair and fettuccine. The Di Pietro brothers and their chef,
Luis Ramos, a Mexican native in his sixth year at Fausto's, keep in favore with
their deliberate simplicity and consistent affordability well-illustrated by
their pastas and a short but carefully chosen wine list. What is more
drinker-friendly than a wine list offering all libations by the bottle or the
glass?
The family adheres to high quality and simplicity in the dessert
realm as well. In the search for a celestial cannoli and the perfect spumoni,
they conceded Angelo Brocato's. Why not? The dark and flaky cannoli shell was
filled with satiny powdered sugar and chocolate ricotta cheeses, each end
dabbed with crushed pistachios. Don't waste a trip to Veterans Memorial
Boulevard by passing up the pillowy tiramisu (imported from California) of
rum-soaked ladyfingers, concentrated coffee flavor, and sweet whipped
mascarpone cheese. Pair either of these with a demitasse of espresso, and it's
true amore.
In a restaurant scene saturated with luscious lobster
risottos and towers of baked polenta, it's occasionally comforting to be
reminded that the love affair between spaghetti and meatballs lives on. Just
don't forget to hide your leftovers.
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