The Brooklyn Papers / Sherri Liberman

Roman holiday: Chef Louis Mulino's arugula and portabello salad is offered at Trattoria Mulino on the weekends.

Print this story

Share this story

Email a friend

Your name

Your email address

Recipients’ email addresses (Up to ten, separated by commas.)

digg

del.icio.us

"Ah, ladies, lovely to see you," says Cesar Zuniga, manager extraordinaire and passionate spokesman for Trattoria Mulino, a new Italian restaurant in Park Slope.

After my mother and I are seated and our coats are whisked away, Cesar stops to light the candle on our table, and with all the theatricality of a Shakespearean actor begins reciting the specials.

"Let me tell you about the veal chop Valdostana," he says. "It is a very big, beautiful chop. First it is pounded thin, then it’s stuffed with prosciutto and mozzarella." (He sighs and takes a moment to compose himself.)

"Then the chop is very lightly breaded and quickly sauteed with mushrooms. When the chop is tender it is removed from the pan and we add Marsala to make a sauce. It is it is just " (He raises his hand and eyes upward; there are no words to express the wonder of this veal chop.)

My mother asks how the baccala is served.

"Oh, the bac-ca-la! It is very fresh; only a little salty," he says of the codfish. "Over the fish we put a light tomato sauce, onions, some carrots. You’ll like it."

I hesitantly ask for the menu. He is disappointed.

"If I give you the menu then you won’t order the veal chop," Cesar says quietly. He was right; had I perused the menu I would have passed on the chop (more than 40 cooking techniques in one dish can be overkill). I might have opted for something lighter or for an Italian-American favorite like eggplant parmigiana.

We order the hot antipasto, the veal Valdostana and the baccala.

"And," I say, "I’d like " Cesar finishes my sentence with, "the rigatoni with broccoli rabe." Asking how he knows which pasta I want would be like asking a psychic why he has visions.

"I just know," he says and leaves our table.

At Cesar’s suggestion we sip glasses of a full-bodied, velvety Estrella Merlot from California, a bargain at $5 a glass. We sip and nibble on crusty Italian bread, served warm with butter. (Why more restaurants don’t heat their bread is a mystery; warm bread and butter is such a delicious indulgence.)

Around the room I notice young couples on dates, older couples holding hands and families with kids sharing big plates of pasta. Two young guys wearing head-to-toe black sit near us bragging about women.

"Everyone looks happy," says my mother, and indeed they do.

Maybe it’s the flattering lighting, or the long, pretty room with its brick wall and vintage Italian posters, or the handsome waiters in their blue oxford shirts and ties roaming the room with enormous pepper grinders. Maybe it’s the opera playing softly in the background that adds a note of kitsch to the setting, or the cooking of chef Louis Mulino (the restaurant’s namesake) that elevates familiar old favorites.

Whatever it has, Trattoria Mulino casts a spell of good cheer over its diners.

The hot antipasto has all the usual breaded and stuffed components: a stuffed clam, stuffed mushrooms, a fried shrimp, eggplant rollatine and a stuffed zucchini. What makes this antipasto special is its light tomato sauce redolent of freshly chopped herbs, and the fresh breadcrumbs used to stuff the clam and vegetables have a delicate texture.

Tony Soprano would admire the brawny veal chop Valdostana. Covering the surface of a large plate, the chop is a meal in itself. (Forgo the appetizer and dessert if you order it.) The veal is tender and its thick layer of wine-drenched mushrooms adds a woodsy note to the meat. Cheese oozes from the chop when it’s sliced. That bit of drama may or may not appeal to you, but if you love cheese-stuffed meat, this is your dish.

The baccala (a codfish that is salted then soaked in water several times until it is softened and loses most of its salt) was served with a splash of fresh tomato sauce, soft onions, chunks of potatoes and carrots. The fish was firm and only slightly salty, as Cesar promised, and its mild flavor was complemented by the sweetness of the tomatoes and vegetables. A side of perfectly al dente ziti in sprightly tomato sauce almost upstaged the fish.

A sprinkle of Parmesan and a grind from the roving pepper mill (it’s a cliche but the pepper sparks the dish) is all that was needed to brighten a bowl of lusty, firm-to-the-bite rigatoni. Satisfyingly bitter broccoli rabe, its flavor softened by mild spinach, garlic sweetened by slow sauteing and tiny, salty black olives made for a robust pasta sauce.

Forget new-fangled desserts. Mulino serves the usual Italian sweets: ricotta cheesecake, tiramisu and a variety of house-made sorbets. The cheesecake is crustless, light, somewhat drier than American cheesecake and nicely tart with the addition of lemon juice and zest. The only disappointment was a pineapple sorbet. The sorbet came frozen solid in a scooped-out pineapple half. The presentation lacked artistry and the sorbet, while refreshing, needed more pineapple flavor.

Will you be blown away by the inventiveness of Trattoria Mulino’s kitchen? No. But you will enjoy a well-prepared meal of satisfying Italian dishes a few notches above many of the other Italian restaurants in the area.

And there’s Cesar. Need I say more?

Trattoria Mulino (133 Fifth Ave. between Sterling Place and St. John’s Place) accepts Visa, MasterCard and American Express. Entrees: $13-$19, Pastas: $10-$13.95. For reservations, call (718) 398-9001.

©2002 The Brooklyn Paper