Mike Friedman really wants diners to try his sweetbreads at the new Aventino in Bethesda. The chef also knows not everybody leaps at the thought of thymus glands for dinner.
So Friedman makes them irresistible, by poaching, cleaning and pressing them before soaking them in buttermilk with espelette pepper, fennel pollen and garlic powder and finally dusting them in flour and frying them till they’re crisp and golden. The hot morsels sit on cool julienne celery root and apple (think rémoulade). In a final flourish, each nugget gets a creamy dab of tonnato, the Italian condiment based on tuna, mayonnaise and lemon juice that’s half the pleasure of eating the classic vitello tonnato.
All of which is how I got my significant other — Not An Organ Fan — to try, and return to, one of the signature appetizers at a restaurant that represents a homecoming for Friedman and allows him to explore his Jewish roots as never before.
Aventino is sibling to the popular Red Hen and two All Purpose storefronts in the District and part of an uptick in good places to eat in Bethesda, including Chiko and the Salt Line. Friedman ticks off a list of good reasons he’s branched into Maryland: The chef is from Montgomery County, his first job was at Mon Ami Gabi there, and “my mom lives in Bethesda.”
Friedman grew up Jewish in an Italian community in New Jersey. “Close-knit cultures,” he says, “but they didn’t touch. In Rome, they touch.” Aventino takes its name from one of the famed seven hills in ancient Rome and considers the diet, including offal (off-cuts and organ meats) of the Jews forced to live in the city’s ghetto.
This slice of history plays out in the risotto fritters, or suppli, which contain the expected stretchy mozzarella and rice, but also minced chicken livers, which impart a pleasant mineral taste.
Aventino makes its own mortadella, another pride of Roman cooking and done with great skill by culinary director Erik Rollings, who transforms local ground pork and fat back into something pink and sublime with the help of seasonings including mace, nutmeg and garlic. Kerchiefs of the finished product, sprinkled with crushed pistachios, are draped like a tent over hollow puffs of fried gnocchi and sweet dark cherries in mustard syrup, what Italians call mostarda. The combination is my second-favorite antipasti after the fried sweetbreads and a lovely way to ease into the night.
Then again, I love the simplicity of the Italian flatbread, springy-chewy slabs slathered with tomato sauce and herbs. For a moment, I’m back in Rome, outside the small Forno Campo de ‘Fiori eating the beloved bakery’s pleated rectangular pizza. And no, it’s not because the bartenders make good drinks. Friedman and team know part of the magic behind Italian cooking is less, not more. And what seems elemental can be deceiving. The reason you can’t stop eating the pizza rossa is because its perfume comes from Sicilian oregano and its sunny tang is a combination of Italian plum tomatoes and a paste created from tomatoes dried on rooftops that chef de cuisine Gennaro Esposito likens to “bottled time” for its depth of flavor. (Esposito has experience at some of my favorite restaurants in Washington, including Reveler’s Hour, Tail Up Goat and the long-running Obelisk.)
Artichokes populate the countryside of Rome and should make an appearance on your table at Aventino. While these are braised rather than fried (my preference), the artichokes, fragrant with mint and dappled with salsa verde, still satisfy.
Personally, I could just order among the appetizers and call it a giorno. Yet the pastas include reasons to stray from the starters. One is the classic cacio e pepe, a little black dress of a dish made with tonnarelli, cheese and black pepper. The combination is familiar but extra pleasing at Aventino, which ratchets up the drama with three kinds of black peppercorns: tellicherry, (red) kampot and cubeb — toasted to highlight their respective robust, spicy and subtly bitter notes. I also like the slight resistance in the housemade pastas. “I’m an al dente guy,” says Friedman, whose tonnarelli, like spaghetti but thicker, supports his preference. Another pasta of distinction is spaghetti and clams, bright with lemon and white wine and finished with fine breadcrumbs mixed with bottarga, cured fish roe, to play up the ocean notes.
The larger plates have their charms, too. Thick, meaty and sweet dorade is splayed over wilted greens, each bite jump-started with currants, pine nuts and lemon. Lamb ribs rubbed with coriander, fennel and chile flakes and heaped over pickled fennel are their equal. For either secondi, a side of borlotti beans in tomato sauce with bits of prosciutto and a cover of breadcrumbs makes nice arm candy.
Three visits afforded me different scenery. The butter-colored main dining room comes with alcove booths and a view of the open kitchen. Off the entrance is seating in dusty rose and mustard yellow, as well as a lofty view of the handsome green-tiled bar. The tableware shows thought. A welcome of olives arrives in a shallow gold dish whose cover is removed to catch the pits, and the water glasses fit the hand like gloves.
Aventino’s serious approach extends to the last course. Pastry chef Anne Specker, late of the fine-dining restaurants Kinship and Metier, offers a moist round of apple cake Italianized with olive oil gelato and encircled with poached fruit, and a soft disk of almond panna cotta with a garland of bright citrus interspersed with candied kumquats, shards of honeycomb toffee and fluffy scoops of orange mousse.
For something more informal, at AP Pizza Shop next door, customers can order Friedman’s signature deck-oven pies and one of the area’s best Caesar salads. The Pizza Shop, created using the lessons of the pandemic, is Aventino’s high-spirited kid sister, offering stickers, tablets for ordering, canned beer and wine, a flirty red neon tomato, and a takeout window where you can get pizza by the slice (for the moment, just at lunch). The scene begs for a kids birthday party.
Aventino, on the other hand, calls to anyone who wants to take a trip to Rome by way of Bethesda.
4747 Bethesda Ave., Bethesda. 301-961-6450. aventinocucina.com. Open for indoor dining 5 p.m. to 9 p.m. Sunday through Thursday and 5 p.m. to 10 p.m. Friday and Saturday. Prices: Appetizers $10 to $60 (for caviar service), main courses $19 to $44. Sound check: 79 decibels/Must speak with raised voice. Accessibility: A lift off the entrance lets wheelchair users reach different parts of the restaurant, including the bar/ADA-approved restrooms.
Source link: https://www.washingtonpost.com/food/2024/03/15/aventino-restaurant-review-mike-friedman/