If you walk into Daniele Osteria and find chef/owner Daniele Puleo standing by the bar in a suit, turn around and head across the street to Parigi. However, if you enter and see the handsome silver-haired Sicilian in his chef whites, moving from table to table, fasten your seatbelt for what could be a bumpy dining ride.
Okay, this new Oak Lawn eatery dedicated to the fine food and wine of Sicily is still working out a few kinks, but our first visit—a month after it opened—was a nightmare that started with trying to find the entrance.
The restaurant is located on the ground level of the Bank One building next door to Goody Goody Liquors (formerly Marty’s). But that doesn’t mean you can see it from your car. It’s below street level, and anyone who has driven Oak Lawn Avenue knows that drivers have no patience for anyone looking for an address. You have to drive past the restaurant, which at press time still had no visible signage, and turn left on Hall Street, where you won’t be able to see the valet parking guy standing in the dark, so you settle for self-parking behind the restaurant in the garage.
Luckily, the restaurant has a back door—or, as the press release reads, “a back entrance built in for regulars.” The night we pulled in, most of the kitchen staff was sitting outside on the sidewalk, smoking. After we passed through a cloud of smoke to open the door, our senses were assaulted with the overwhelming aroma of Pine-Sol.
Immediately, a suited Puleo was by my side, educating the group on Sicilian wines. As knowledgeable as he is charming, Puleo steered us to a Tenuta La Lumia Cadetto, made from 100 percent Nero d’Avola grapes, which proved too fruity and sweet for our tastes. But he hit the mark with a Notorius Syrah. From that point our dining drama went downhill quickly. Other than the thinly shaved bresaola (air-dried, salty beef fillet) topped with chopped arugula and the tortellini alla panna, our food was mediocre at best. Dishes that shouldn’t have been breaded (orange roughy) were, and pasta, which should have been hot, was not. The dining room was nearly empty, and they knew I was a critic, yet I was still seated in a chair facing the only door that opened to the kitchen. When I looked up, my eyes were drawn to the bright lights that illuminated the smokers I’d just met in the parking lot as they prepared our food.
When it came time to give the restaurant another try, my dining buddies refused to go. (And you all think the life of a dining critic is glamorous!) So I went to my (ever-shortening) bench for one of my “I’ll eat anything for free” critics.
If I’d had my cell phone, I would have called my fair-weather friends from the table. Our second visit was a stunning about-face. This time, we found the front door, a mere 129 paces from the valet stand. Ford was there, but this time chef Puleo was in the kitchen. I was seated facing the candlelit dining room painted in warm chocolate tones. A large party, who had just returned from a trip to Sicily, oohed and ahhed at the authenticity of the chef’s Palermo-inspired menu.
And then our first course arrived. The too big and too fishy mussels we experienced before now sat before us—one order in olive oil and white pepper, the other in a fresh tomato sauce—steamed to perfection. Then came the caponata. Nobody makes this room-temperature mixture of eggplant, celery, olives, capers, onion, and tomato sauce like my Aunt Tita, but I’ll now add chef Puleo’s version to my favorites list. The pungent, salty, oily flavors bounced across my tongue with each bite. Everything we sampled that evening—grilled lamb chops topped with balsamic reduction, sautéed veal medallions covered with eggplant and a light tomato sauce with thin shavings of fresh ricotta, and tender pan-seared sea bass sitting in a pool of asparagus sauce—was equally delectable. A thin sliver of perfectly proportioned tiramisu finished the triumphant meal.
When the doomsayers listened to my glowing report, they were skeptical. So I sent them back to see for themselves. Although the chef was in the kitchen and their meals were “notably improved,” they reported that the cheese ravioli with artichokes and tomatoes was pleasant “but certainly not the best we’ve ever eaten.” As to the sea bass: “It was very hot, cooked perfectly (extremely moist and fell apart easily), and had a nice crust, but we would go elsewhere for a $30 fish entrée.” The tiramisu, which I had raved about was, sadly, not available the night of their return.
One constant throughout all three experiences was the service—not the lack of attention, but too much of it. It’s a mistake most restaurant staffs make when they recognize a dining critic, but I’ve had several other people report that the servers need to take a chill pill. If someone is always reaching to fill a glass or ask how things are, it is impossible to have a serene dinner. The best service goes unnoticed.
Obviously they are trying hard to impress. And their eagerness elucidates the fact that too many local restaurants fail when it comes to making the customer the top priority. Hopefully the folks at Daniele Osteria will hit their stride, and the dining experience will mellow. In the mean time, we are thankful that Dallas has a new sophisticated Italian restaurant owned and operated by a real Italian. 3300 Oak Lawn Ave. 214-443-9420. $$-$$$.
