DINING In the presence of Luca, one could learn more about good wine in two hours than a Hunter Valley weekend away. He knows his stuff, and not by ethnic default. He has years of tasting and sommelier knowledge up is sleeve, gathered from both Europe and Australia. Swirling each glass like a hand-held tornado, leading not a drop out of place, he offers small background stories of the wines, their origins and how they arrived at Cicchetti. “This is the Pinot Grigio from the north. See ‘grave’? It’s like gravel, the stones of the river running along the vineyard. This wine picks up a lot of minerals,” Luca explains, wrist twirling. Hold it to your ear and you can almost hear the rush of the Garonne River itself. The Lane Vineyard Chardonnay has a particular fondness to it. From the enchanted region of Adelaide Hills, Luca points out its subtle fruity flavours as the perfect company for butter-fried gnocchi and seafood. For Luca, service is the key to experience; everything can be done with class so as to entertain the guests. “We are all actors, everything is done like in a performance,” he demonstrates with various hand movements and strides. It’s the difference between a ‘nice meal’ and a standing ovation. Glasses topped, wine poured, linen napkins rolled on absence. You could kiss the precision of service, but make sure you do it three times. If you thought la dolce vita couldn’t get any more dolce, you’ve grabbed the wrong phrasebook. Cicchetti’s desserts are worth the visit alone. You’ve never tasted eggs treated with such delicacy as in the Zabaione E Biscotti; the velvety whip of whites seems almost frozen in time, flanked by three types of Italian biscuits. Its balance of sweet and Amaretto sour has even the most savoury visitors waving the tricolori. The Tartelletta di Ricotta (deconstructed tart) is like walking through a Mediterranean forest, the plate ebbing in hills of vanilla gelato and lemon curd bordered by sour cherries, crumbling biscotti and cubes of jelly, flowering with violet flowers, only to be left with a board of finger-marks and the occasional sigh. Lastly, muffle your ‘Mamma Mia!’ with a spoonful of the Frittelle di Cioccolato, crisp-shell cocoons of molten cocoa, overcome by hazelnut milk and flames of edible orange flowers. Eating in Italy is often a sensory experience. The scent of blistering tomatoes and peppery basil freshly plucked, the eccentric sound of vowels and rolling R’s thrown across tables, the slide of someone’s palm across your back. It’s almost too much. But not quite. And not quite in this setting. Though the scent still sings strongly here, Cicchetti’s location makes it a unique fusion of different worlds. Australian accents often struggle with the pronunciation of dishes, and the closest thing to the diplomacy of a Roman plaza is a surf report in The Pass car park. But this marriage of northern and southern hemisphere is what Cicchetti intended and conquered. “Why go all the way to Italy? This is it!” exclaims Luca, with even a touch of Australian accent in his vowels. Step outside onto the street dreaming of vineyards and contemplating the purchase of a Vespa, it is Cicchetti that leaves us with a little something. pm pindaramagazine.com.au Pindara Magazine 105
Pindara Private Hospital Magazine - Issue Two
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