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Rosemarie Tran gives her earnest estimate as cheerily as such news can be delivered, without a trace of haughtiness.
Instead there is a shade of empathy, a breath of hesitation, and even an endearing flush of embarrassment at the crush of attention that has besieged the corner of 22d and Spruce since she and her husband, chef Gianluca Demontis, opened their 30-seat Italian trattoria, Melograno, in September.
Yet another Italian BYOB? This must be the 20th new one in the last year (but, frankly, I've stopped counting). Philadelphia could do worse - a rash of smorgasbords, for example, or a sudden affection for aromatherapy tofu. But even the best idea begins to tire when every corner is suddenly transformed into a pasta palace.
If only they all were as good as Melograno . . .
"How about La Baia?" a good Samaritan calls out, overhearing our dilemma this Friday night from one of the wicker benches outside the restaurant. He even offers a card from that (what else?) Italian BYOB a few blocks away.
We shake our heads, but he continues to rattle off his Rittenhouse Square favorites. "Marathon Grill? Seafood Unlimited? How about Salt? Just ask for David!"
No sooner had the kind stranger found the number in his PDA than David Fields himself - Salt's owner - showed up for dinner. He's a regular.
We weren't budging.
I'm glad we didn't. Melograno is the Italian trattoria I've been waiting for, an affordable, unpretentious corner pocket where the food actually tastes like Rome and the air is perfumed with crisped pancetta and sage.
A passing glance at this bright nook - its window walls embracing a minimalist white room with an open stainless-steel kitchen and dangling strings of garden lights - evokes instant comparisons to Audrey Claire, two blocks away.
Tran could well be the Vietnamese-born incarnation of Audrey Taichman, taming the sidewalk hordes with a coquettish smile and a plate of free bruschetta.
But it is Demontis' cooking that really wins hearts. (He won over Tran when she was a student in Rome and happened to stop him on the street for directions.)
His menu isn't complicated or overly exotic. But the 28-year-old Demontis can make food sing, adding personal touches to specialties from Tuscany, Umbria and his native Rome, which he left four years ago.
Wide ribbons of homemade pappardelle arrive tangled among truffled mushrooms and toasted walnuts. Another version of pappardelle has a lively tomato sauce studded with salty olives, sweet scallops and shrimp.
The ravioli stuffed with airy mashed potatoes, pecorino cheese and leeks are like divine Italian pierogi. Shined with brown butter and topped with a plume of fried sage, each was so delicate that I savored them with my eyes closed.
Other pastas show Demontis' knack for refining textures and steeping flavors. He finishes cooking his penne in its pancetta-tomato sauce so the pasta absorbs that smoke and spice. And his fresh fettuccine has such a perfect al dente snap that the ingredients that grace it - sweet peas, roasted cherry tomatoes, and garlicky white wine sauce - taste all the more alive.
A few dishes are less inspired. The calamari in the mixed seafood grill were too chewy, and the salmon tartare topped with crab looked more interesting than it tasted. The flavorful branzino fillets poached in lightly seasoned acquapazza, a tomato-sage broth, would have been even better served as a whole fish. The bowls of pregrated pecorino cheese were another weak point. Why not grate it tableside?
But Demontis pulls off memorable dishes with a consistency that sets Melograno apart from most other trattorias. And the service is remarkably efficient and poised considering the lively pace and noisy tenor of this bustling dining room.
Of course, when you serve food this tasty, a waiter's job can be downright pleasant.
A pork chop special brought one of the most succulent cuts I've tasted - infused with herbs, slow roasted and juicy - and served with an addictive mound of garlic mashed potatoes.
The bistecca alla fiorentina was, at $26, the most expensive item on a menu that is almost entirely $20 or less. And it was ridiculously delicious, the porterhouse soaking in the garlicky herb marinade of the white bean salad served with it.
There were cute little quails stuffed with figs, plums and walnuts. Glazed with the sweet and sour darkness of pomegranate molasses and marsala, they were a tribute to Umbrian game as well as to the restaurant's name. (Melograno is Italian for pomegranate.)
Some of Demontis' best dishes reveal how effective familiar ideas can be with the addition of a simple tweak: linguine with tiny whole clams in wine sauce threaded with arugula and chopped tomatoes; a simple appetizer of grilled scallops paired with an elegant, long-stemmed artichoke; a roasted portobello cap accented with a dollop of pine nut-studded goat cheese.
I find myself craving the chicken senese, a deconstructed chicken parmigiana that brings a delicately breaded breast wrapped in a veil of soft prosciutto and topped with slices of tomato and milky chunks of fresh mozzarella.
Demontis puts effort into the desserts, too, in the particularly oozy chocolate souffle, the rich creme brulee piqued with a whiff of ginger, the crepes wrapped around wine-poached pears and sweetened goat cheese, and house-made gelato filled with salty pistachios.
But I was seduced long before the dessert. How else to explain the odd sensation of feeling lucky to snag a table in only one hour and 10 minutes?
Yes, reservations would be nice. (Or try arriving early - on a Tuesday night.) But Melograno is one little gem worth standing in line for.
On Dec. 28, Craig LaBan reviews the Year in Bells.
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