Scarpetta

It's really my fault...I know. I scan for great spots and then try them on a regular, slightly-addicted basis. And as you'd imagine, while doing so it's not uncommon for my hopes to rise—way too high. Then, I'm often slightly, or very, disappointed by my experience at said spot. But every once in a while I find one that fulfills and even exceeds my optimism in decor, food and service. Scarpetta has proved time and again it's just this sort of place, and when I go there my happy anticipation's always rewarded in full form.

Not that my expectations were low to begin. I had tried chef Scott Conant's food while he cooked at L'Impero (now Convivio) and found his food thoughtful, filling and full of gusto. But when I first visited his new, sleek joint two weeks after opening, I wasn't sure if his presence would be a cure-all for the meat packing restaurant scene which is heavily inundated with over-hyped, under-enjoyable restaurants.

Upon first visit, before I had even tasted a bite I was hit with the contrast similar to other area restaurants like Spice Market: Outside at the sidewalk tables, thin models glared at pasta while older men gazed at their legs. Next to the hostess stand, a table overflowed with the chef's book. But when I looked at diners' faces at the bar, there was a ruddy grin on pretty much every single one: food euphoria is hard to disguise. An MP hot spot being one and the same as an actually worthy restaurant? Unusual, but this time, true.

The first sign of this actuality is the inviting, old-school cherry bar that balances the clean-lined cafe area at the restaurant's entrance. In the main dining room farther back, a similar seesaw between stylish and comforting matches Conant's approach to upscale, but approachable food. The room is softened by white and purple orchids and mirrors are anchored to the wall by bright orange straps. On balmy nights the glass roof retracts for a view of starry skies seen best with a red, like the raisiny Cannanou.

But before you start drinking, save your attention for the saliva-inducing menu. Instead of dealing in small plates as is the fashion, Conant goes old school with appetizers, pastas and entrees. In the former, you pretty much can't go wrong anywhere you turn. For fresh and light try the raw yellowtail with sea salt and oil for clean flavors and crisp contrast. The scallop tartare fares similarly well, with added zest from avocado and citrus chunks—a fun, colorful explosion of flavor for a diet-conscious customer...foodie lite. For heavier, heartier tastes, the braised short ribs with farro and vegetables is a sweet, beefy mouthful and the risotto has a satisfying, dense texture similar to tiny gnocchi. The stewy sauce is perfect when using an appetizer as a meal, without dipping into overwhelming. For a true taste of heaven that asks for every inch of scarpetta (heel of bread used to scoop up leftovers) head straight for the fluffy pillow of buratta. A mound of the highest quality of mozarella, it's intense and light at the same time, with a rich flavor that swaths your mouth in creamy but not cloying taste. It's accompanied by shoestrings of eggplant in a marinara sauce and super-buttery, crunchy toast. After this appetizer, and nibbles from the incredible bread basket—the stromboli with goat cheese and salumi wrapped in buttery dough is TDF on its own--you might just want to call it a night in stuffed bliss.

Instead, try to move on to the pasta for a Conant showcase. The spaghetti with tomato and basil has been all the talk of the town for its dense texture and velvety sauce with a real punch from simple ingredients. And while I agree with the buzz—the pasta's a purist's favorite—I like a little more pizazz for my money. The agnolotti with mixed beef has just the right amount. Sham-shaped rectangles are filled with doses of pork, chicken and beef and swim in a naughty bath of cream. But even with all the saturated fat(shhh don't tell), it's light and airy.

By now, you're eyes might be watering with indulgence realized, but the entrees aren't to be missed-fortunately or not. The flaky, skin-on black cod swims in a stock and tomato-jus and crunchy, caramelized fennel breaks through the soupy rest. The sliced sirloin of beef is a confident classic, with expertly cooked meat that yields to a surprising touch of parmesan and mushrooms—here Conant is able to combine his zealous talent with the ability to please grandparents visiting their youth in Manhattan.

Every time I ate at Scarpetta, by the time I got to dessert, I honestly wanted to say no (versus nights when I pretend to say no, only to push someone else to order something sinful. Don't lie ladies...you do it, too.), but gave in a couple of times. The Chocolate and Vanilla parfait is well worth the stretch, with a shooter of saturated hazelnut milkshake and snappy biscotti. And with servers swooping in when needed to clear or refill water (sometimes a bit too quickly), I had them remove the evidence of my debauchery asap.

What truly makes Scarpetta special to me (besides, obviously, the food) is its malleable nature. For a girls' night, five of us sat at the bar and enjoyed being hit on by handsome suits while drinking wine-list hits like a spicy Tempranillo and elegant Muller Thurgau. When my father was in town and wanted a post-show stuff-fest, we closed the restaurant with oohs and ahhs and my father's special smile that he only gets from truly great meals. For date night, the just-dim-enough lighting and friendly service made us feel romantic but comfortable, and when it was time for a special occasion—my best friend's birthday—the festive flavors and special attention paid to us for the evening amped up the spot's value. Light meal? Scarpetta. Celebration? Scarpetta. Fun? Scarpetta. So rare to find a place that fits the mold for many nights, all in its own specific, lip-smacking way. And it's TDF.

Scarpetta
Rating: To Die For
Address: 355 West 14th Street at 9th Avenue
Phone: 212.691.0555