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Dinner Closed Sundays RESERVATIONS:
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Motto:
Gelato
Now Nassi plays with the art of contrast, serving cold dishes of sweet chocolate and tart lemon gelato with hot biscuits. The combination creates a distinct sensation that’s been known to bring tears to diners’ eyes. The ardor is overwhelming. He greets his guests with a kiss on each cheek and a “Ciao, Ciao,” in a voice like an old oak door swinging on a single hinge. He adds an "ah" at the end of his words, subtle as ambrosia. For Nassi, gelato is a deeply Italian experience. “Gelato helps-ah re-create the palate after a meal,” he explains. “You can eat it always-ah-winter or summer- it’s always the right time.” So the only way to end a culinary experience at his restaurant is with gelato, and Nassi will instruct you on how to eat it properly.
After flirting with this gelato in this way, Nassi shakes his head side to side in ecstasy. “Splendid-ah,” he sighs, his mouth full. He’ll eye the glass of gelato as if it were a naughty little thing, taunting him mercilessly, resisting for a moment and leaning in on his elbows to watch as you scoop the sweet treat. Then he claps his hands, a kind of overgrown boy, as your eyeballs roll back like a Great White, enraptured in dumb ecstasy. Soon, he’ll cave to his coy temptation and scoop up some more: “Spoons are not so good as biscuits-ah,” he says, patting his stomach. He sighs like a warm wind. Cucina Toscana is an incarnation of Valter’s lifelong passion for exquisite Italian food. When in 1997 he came to Salt Lake from New York (he owned the restaurant Castellano there), Nassi created Il Sansovino, a restaurant named after a famous architect who grew up in Monte Sansovino, his childhood town. Il Sansovino quickly became the place for gelato. “Selling-ah gelato there was incredible-ah because I am in love with it. Gelato remain in my heart forever,” says Nassi. He inhales deeply and clasps his hands to his heart, pausing to reflect. “As a child, I got 60 lire for allowance,” he explains. “Every Sunday I would wait for the treat, chocolat et limoni gelato and a film. I would scoop some in my mouth [demonstrating] and Mama mia! What a miracle.” When Il Sansovino closed its doors in 1999, Nassi wept. “It was such a shame,” he says. “Most of my guests came on closing night-ah, to show what I call Utah spirit. That night I decided Utah people are my family. I miss New York and I miss my Italy, but the family I have here is astonishing. I feel I have a duty to them and I can never do enough to repay the kindness-ah.” On September 3, 2002, Cucina Toscana opened its doors, and it’s more than repaying that debt. Architect Ken Millo and partners Bruce Allen and David Baggs own the restaurant. Millo renovated the historic Firestone building into commercial space and lofts and hired Nassi to re-energize the bistro. Restaurants like Cucina are putting Salt Lake on the culinary map, and that’s exactly what he wants. “What I would like-ah to have here in Utah is a restaurant that is well-known around the U.S.-ah,” he says. Some people come from the outside the town to eat-ah in the restaurant and the say ‘Mama mia! I never thought-ah there would be a restaurant like this in Utah. I wish they say Salt Lake City is amazing with food.” On the ride home, digesting, I think that perhaps it’s the infamous inferiority complex Utahns have that somehow has held the state back-in politics and art as well as gourmet cooking. Perhaps if we all experienced Valter’s gelato we would realize that we are, in fact, playing with the Big Dogs. Then, the rest of the world would start sniffing at our doors. No matter how unassuming Valter’s demeanor, beneath it is a determined man working toward that goal. “I’m finding that Salt Lake clientele is very willing-ah to try original food from Tuscany,” Valter says. “Actually I’m very happy-ah about culinary progress in-ah Salt Lake. But I would like to see people come to Salt Lake with the same enthusiasm.” Gelato over inferiority. I believe he’s onto something bigger than food. |
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Leggy
Valter Nassi, general manager of Cucina Toscana, 307 W. Pierpont Avenue
(328-3463), jumps about his hip Italian eatery, putting on a show:
he sweeps tables of favorite patrons with chat; his longish body, at
once fluid and electric, sometimes goes taut with emotion. Nassi
isn’t
just good at his job-he’s like a maestro, conducting a baroque
quartet. He seduces your senses in such a charming way you
don’t even mind the micromanagement. Soon enough,
he’ll have you where he wants you. It’s his
restaurant, you’re a slave to Valter’s tastes. His
owlish, salt and pepper eyebrows finish you off, ruffling like feathers
as he speaks in a accent that rolls like the Tuscan hills. He
orders for you, or he orders you to order: risotto with porcini mushrooms. If
one of his uniformly handsome young servers approaches your exquisite
salad with a pepper grinder and he thinks the dish is spicy enough,
Valter will fling his arms like a benign Dracula: “Oh noooo,
my boy! Perfetto cosi.” (It’s perfect
like it is.) But whatever, his arms flap, his hands dance,
and chic martini glasses filled with heavenly gelato float to you table.
Lift the fresh contucci
biscuit and inhale the subtle aroma of orange zest. Draw
the glass of gelato closer. Notice the excited beads of
condensation on the glass stem. Scoop with gusto, drenching
the biscuit. Suspend the morsel for a moment, admiring the
swirl of colors and textures, and then pop the bite into you mouth. Let
the taste linger on your tongue for a moment, allowing the flavors
to merge before swallowing…