"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.
