Sonoma, I have some good news and I have some bad news. The good news is very, very, very good. It is very yummy news to say the least. I could not be happier to report that we are about to get a whole lot more deliciousness around here. We are about to get a brand new restaurant that is utterly atmospheric and beautifully designed, the sort of spot where you will find yourself lingering on the glow-ey, sunshine-y deck over Sunday brunch and then, possibly that very same evening, cozied up in the warm, wood paneled bar with a gorgeous glass of wine and a perfectly hand-crafted pizza.
The sort of spot where every meal will surely be more scrumptious and expertly prepared than the last. A restaurant where the service will inevitably be professional and gracious, where details such as artful arrangements of fresh, local flowers will grace the tables and flickering votives will provide only the prettiest light. Here, wine will be thoughtfully sourced, many will be interesting, unknown Italian choices that you more than likely will not know, but may just leave you swooning. Sigh.
Speaking of swooning, do you want to hear the bad news? This is a restaurant created by totally legit restaurant folks. A group of handsome Italian gentleman, which brings us to the bad news: it seems they are, boo, all spoken for.
Oh well, I will be happy to simply placate myself, my belly, my heart with lovely plates of Italian fare, two cheek kisses, and a glass or three of that strange, beguiling, golden Italian wine I am now completely and insanely addicted to.
Aventine, this stunning new restaurant that I am obsessing over, will soon open in the enchanting old mill space in the Jack London Village next door to the also-yummy Yeti.
The space is all wonderfully patina’d woods, calming and sumptuous. In the late afternoon, the lowering sunlight streams through big windows, huge oaks shading the deck that sits over a mossy, rock-filled creek. The furnishings are classic Tuscan farmhouse meets California Wine Country. Deliciously lived in. Someone here has very good taste.
Warm, rustic wood is everywhere from the treatment on the walls to the old looking planked wooden floors. The soft wooden tables beg for long dinners here, tables laden with platters of Italian goodies, bubbling pizzas, bottles of wine.
I was so hopeful of Aventine’s potential when simply first walking through the door, knowing that a gal cannot judge a restaurant merely by it’s handsome decor or charming, great looking staff. The menu for the evening’s pre-opening dinner caused me to do a cautious little happy dance in my seat. Our table’s massive bowl of buttery, truffle-flecked popcorn was eagerly shoveled into our mouths, a fun starter. Truffle and corn equals love.
A first course of crudo was a spoonful of tuna tartar; stunning, gloriously glistening cubes of raw, beautifully selected fish, finished with a restrained splash of toasty sesame oil and a sprinkling of even toastier pine nuts. Also on the plate was the ultimate proof of Aventine’s future brilliance: a lovely pile of what may have been the most tender octopus I may have ever had the pleasure of slowly, gingerly, happily sinking my teeth into. There was brightness from a super peppery-lemon laden olive oil, a sublime herbacious green-ess, grassiness from flat leaf parsley leaves wonderfully left whole. The octopus alone is proof of major skill and love for food happening here.
Let me begin by saying right up front, that I am a big fan of the meatball so I was already over the moon while just reading about our next course. As the tines of my fork pierced the tender meatiness of the golden-hued meatball a faint ooze of mozzarella escaped and slightly pooled onto the creamy pillow of soft polenta in which both the balls were slowly sinking into in the most decadent of ways. I hungrily stabbed my fork into a probably too big for my mouth sort of bite, swooping up some polenta along with a bit of the bright red tomato sauce and the practically fluorescent tasting, greenest of green, basil pesto.
The bite had obviously been constructed by someone who knew the utter joy a single, perfect bite could bring; a combination of only three or four simple ingredients that leave your tongue screaming for more. A tart tomato sauce, slight beefy fat, a subtle sweetness from plump golden raisins; all mingling in a way that I can only describe as sexy.
Branzino, with paper thin, crispy skin and white, buttery soft flesh, was resting on a purée of fava beans. More spring love: a perfectly grilled Superior Farms lamb chop. The rich meat elevated by the brilliant addition of tart candied kumquats. Paper thin, just fried, fingerling potato chips were thoroughly addictive, shattering against my teeth, they were an inspired, if not, habit-forming accompaniment.
Each course was paired with local and Italian wines each deserving a column, a love letter, of its own. Sadly, the pizza oven had not yet been delivered, but I have sky-high hopes that my tush will be planted at that bar whenever I happen to have a night in town, digging into what may finally be my fantasy pie here in Sonoma.
Aventine is, well, without overly dramatic about it, my dream restaurant. My place. I have claimed a barstool, you will know where to find me. Not since Estate closed have I been so sure that a restaurant would be that spot for me. That place where I will slyly suggest a date take me, where many bottles of Prosecco will be consumed with the girls, where I will definitely dig into untold quantities of octopus.
I could continue to gush about the dazzling Italian cuisine, the atmospheric space. I could easily write another thousand words praising those charming guys, the smiling, joyful chef, his enchanting wife, their other successful restaurants, their own divine wines. But then you might claim my barstool for yourself, and we can’t have that.
Find more information on Aventine, to make future reservations, and to track its opening, at Aventinehospitality.com or by calling 934.8911.
Aventine’s meatballs
- 1 lb. ground beef
- 1 lb. ground Italian sausage
- 1/2 small onion, diced
- 2 cloves garlic, chopped
- 1 small handful of Italian parsley, chopped
- 4 oz. milk
- 1/2 baguette, diced small
- 1/4 oz. dried oregano
- 2 oz. parmesan cheese
- 1 whole egg
- Salt and pepper
To serve: simple tomato sauce, golden raisins, pesto, shaved parmesan
Makes six. Mix bread and milk in a bowl and let rest. In a large bowl, combine all of the other ingredients. Add the milk-bread mixture and combine gently. Form into 5 oz. balls. Cook balls gently in simmering tomato sauce until tender. Serve over soft polenta, garnishing with the raisins, pesto, and parmesan.
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