Most people don’t like change. So readers complaining about Arcodoro & Pomodoro moving to the Rosewood Crescent Court came as no surprise. But we wanted to see—and eat—for ourselves.
The first time we visited, we ate in the bar. The fussy service was too much. When our main server apologized again for setting down our entrées in front of the wrong person a good 10 minutes after it happened—hers was a pan-seared and perfect fillet of flounder with decadent cauliflower mousse, and mine was an overcooked yet big-as-the-plate rib-eye with buttery, skin-on mashed potatoes and julienned vegetables—the over-attention made us uncomfortable.
On our next visit, we sat in the dining room, and again the service was fussy. Fried ravioli, stuffed with wild boar and pecorino Sardo, had a flaky, almost pastry-like crust, and the accompanying sauce, laced with bitter honey, was a sweet foil. Arugula salad with thin discs of William pears, aged ricotta Sarda, and walnuts had that spicy/salty/crunchy/sweet thing going on. Handmade spaghetti infused with bottarga (cured fish roe from Sardinia) and tossed with calamari, grape tomatoes, and Leccino olives was hearty and hot. But maybe I’m the one who doesn’t like change. I miss the cozy confines of the old house on Routh Street, and I miss former executive chef Francesco Farris, arms crossed, ruling over his restaurant. (He is no longer a partner with his brother, Efisio.) I miss the gnocchi with pesto that’s no longer on the menu. But mostly I miss the relaxed atmosphere of the old Arcodoro.
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