Rewritten, in a Language of Its Own By FRANK BRUNI

November 28, 2007
Rewritten, in a Language of Its Own By FRANK BRUNI

MORE than a few chefs have spent more than a little time trying to turn carpaccio into an intricate production that reflects and trumpets their ingenuity.

At the restyled Fiamma in SoHo, Fabio Trabocchi joins the challenge in an original fashion. He wraps thinly sliced Australian wagyu beef around columns of tofu, which support a crunchy Parmesan tuile and, over that, a teetering quail egg. On a long, thin rectangular plate he lines up three of these delicate towers, interspersed with ovals of wagyu tartare that wear caps of chopped mushrooms and Parmesan.

Is it carpaccio? Sort of. But not really. And so what? It’s crazily enjoyable, and that’s what counts.

Mr. Trabocchi relishes the finer fowls and isn’t inclined to let them be, so both roasted poussin and roasted wild Scottish pheasant come with fatty lobes of foie gras. The dark sauces pooling beneath the meat have an almost staggering richness.

Would you find these entrees in Italy, even up north? Maybe, in a very fussy restaurant. In most others, no. And who cares? They’re prepared with finesse and they’re the definition of luxury, no matter the geography, no matter the language.

Since Mr. Trabocchi took over the kitchen at Fiamma in September, much of the response to his cooking has been perplexed, centering on questions of nomenclature and ethnic fidelity.

Can a lasagna with as little sunshine and as much stormy intensity as Mr. Trabocchi’s justly call itself lasagna? And can a restaurant with food as ornate, saucy and creamy as Fiamma’s rightly call itself Italian?

That’s a chewy topic for debate, and I cast my vote this way: Fiamma is about as Italian as a poodle in a Prada scarf.

It owes its accessories — the olive oil, the balsamic vinegar, many of the cheeses (fontina, burrata, ricotta salata) — to Italy. It owes its classically indulgent soul to France.

It owes apologies and explanations to no one. When a restaurant turns out this many dishes that make you stop mid-chew, nudge a companion and nod your head vigorously — because you’re excited; because you need to start working off the calories any way you can — it needn’t worry about fitting into a tidy box.

Fiamma has been around since 2002, when William Grimes gave it three stars in The Times, solidifying its reputation as the lone thoroughbred among the many New York workhorses that belong to the restaurateur Stephen Hanson. He also owns multiple branches of Ruby Foo’s and Dos Caminos.

But in a shakeup this year that has turned out well for the city’s gastronomes, Fiamma’s chef, Michael White, decamped to the restaurants Alto and L’Impero, both of which are turning out distinguished food. And Mr. Hanson lured Mr. Trabocchi from Maestro, a restaurant near Washington, D.C., where he had established himself as one of the most dazzling chefs around the nation’s capital.

Mr. Hanson also spruced up the SoHo town house the restaurant inhabits, giving it not so much a new look as a fresh glow. The main, second-floor dining room, with its warm colors of orange and red, nimbly splits the difference between elegance and unceremonious comfort.

Elegance is getting extra attention these days. Previously called Fiamma Osteria, the restaurant has lost the second word, which evoked informality. (The remaining word is Italian for flame.) And there’s a fanciful array of new plates and cutlery, meant to cast the food they showcase in an artistic light.

That food is indeed artistic but seldom precious, the key to its success. Mr. Trabocchi delivers bold, resonant flavors; if anything he goes overboard with them, making you wish there were a more varied rhythm to his meals.

He comes out swinging and goes constantly for the knockout punch. An appetizer of various cuts of rabbit includes leg meat stuffed with prosciutto. The Romanesco broccoli around it is sautéed with guanciale. And the broccoli purée beneath everything includes a generous dose of rabbit jus.

Take a deep breath. You’ve got at least two courses —and maybe more — to go.

Although Mr. Trabocchi produces terrific gnocchi in way that uses less flour, he offsets their lightness with a goat ragù that, like so many of his sauces, has the kind of haunting intensity a laboriously made reduction does.

He takes flour, too, out of what might otherwise be a béchamel for the lasagna. What does he leave in? Well, a reduction of chicken stock and cream, which is layered with noodles and with a ragù of veal sweetbreads, chicken livers, chicken gizzards, prosciutto and more. Around the lasagna goes veal jus. And chanterelle mushrooms, for some additional dark magic.

For Mr. Trabocchi, more is more. He puts poached bone marrow on a saffron-flavored risotto. He puts fried bread crumbs on a whole lot, including monkfish liver and, separately, thick-cut, gorgeous Dover sole. He puts crushed Alba hazelnuts, sautéed in butter, on top of braised veal cheeks, which accompany a hunk of roasted veal rib-eye.

There’s nuance in the mix, the tofu in the newfangled carpaccio providing one example. It lends volume, shape and a chewy element to the silky beef without muffling its flavor.

And what you find on impeccably roasted rack of lamb isn’t rosemary but nepitella, an Italian herb that does the work of mint in a less assertive manner.

Mr. Trabocchi scatters such surprises throughout a meal, and he scatters luxuries, too: black and white truffles; porcini mushrooms; sea urchin (in a dish of spaghetti); langoustine (as an amuse-bouche).

In the context of that, and of Fiamma’s lofty prices, it’s a happy shock to find a wine list with dozens of bottles under $50 and scores under $75. And they’re interesting wines, from more countries than Fiamma’s list previously represented.

The desserts by Thomas Wellings, the pastry chef, tend to be fastidiously composed. My favorite was a so-called salad of roasted pears and pine nuts, accompanied by ice cream flavored with Corbezzolo honey, from the nectar of a shrub found in northern Italy.

The shrub’s provenance, I suppose, makes the dessert Italian. I’ll certainly go along with that, provided I get a second serving.

Fiamma

***

206 Spring Street (Sullivan Street), SoHo; (212) 653-0100.

ATMOSPHERE Equal measures of warmth and elegance enliven dining rooms on the ground floor and upstairs of a SoHo town house.

SOUND LEVEL Moderate.

RECOMMENDED DISHES Carpaccio; tuna crudo; mussels and cuttlefish with polenta; lasagna; gnocchi; squash agnolotti; Dover sole; veal cheeks and rib-eye; poussin; pheasant; lamb; pear salad; chocolate ganache with pistachio; chocolate torta Caprese.

WINE LIST Interesting, sophisticated and nicely varied in geography and price.

PRICE RANGE Three-course prix fixe, $75; five-course prix fixe, $100; six-course tasting, $110; à la carte dessert, $12.

HOURS Dinner from 6 to 10 p.m. Monday, to 11 p.m. Tuesday through Thursday, to midnight Friday, and from 5:30 p.m. to midnight Saturday. Dec. 3 through Jan. 31, lunch from noon to 2:30 p.m. Monday through Friday. Closed Sunday.

RESERVATIONS Call at least two weeks ahead for prime dinner times.

CREDIT CARDS All major cards.

WHEELCHAIR ACCESS Entrance at street level, with elevator service between floors and accessible restrooms.

WHAT THE STARS MEAN Ratings range from zero to four stars and reflect the reviewer’s reaction to food, ambience and service, with price taken into consideration. Menu listings and prices are subject to change.