Metro Pulse/Restaruant Rover/Pasta Trio

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Pasta Trio
119 South Central (in the Old City)
540-3970

by Connie Seuer

Although the paint's still wet on Pasta Trio's storefront, located on the South end of Central in the Old City, I couldn't wait another night to try the recent addition to K-town's urban restaurant roster. The Trio's been open for about a month, and, we can always use a new joint that's within walking distance. For those driving, there's a parking lot (if not street parking) just across from the restaurant.

To keep things even (and since Heinrich's on holiday in the Old Country), I decided to invite Heinrich's affable twin brother, Ullrich, and his sultry spouse, Marlena, to join me for dinner. As our threesome approached the restaurant, a bottle of vino under wing (Pasta Trio is BYOB, and there's no corkage fee), Marlena was immediately charmed by the soft glow emanating from the small dining room. White tablecloths, candlelight, and an eager maitre d' ushered us inside. It was 9-ish, a respectful hour for dinner on a Friday evening, and although reservations are requested, we were the only table in the house. The maitre d' (who is also the waiter and co-owner) took full advantage of his captive audience, talking us up and asking our opinion on each item. This hunger for input was encouraging, because what this young endeavor needs is some honest feedback.

Pasta Trio's menu allows diners to select a) what type of pasta they will have; b) what type of sauce will accompany the selected pasta; and c) what type of meat will come along for the ride. Choose from penne, fettuccini, or spaghetti; marinara, Alfredo, or pesto. As for carne, options include chicken, meatballs, or Italian sausage. Warm bread and a vinaigrette side salad come with the meal, and to make for easy accounting, there's one price—$7.95.

With tines poised, we dined.

From spaghetti to penne, Pasta Trio's noodles were al dente. Achieving this "to the tooth" firm texture is the trickiest part of preparing pasta, particularly on a restaurant scale. Grazie to the watchful eye that

hovered above the boiling pot.

Upon hearing the night's special, a tri-colored cheese tortellini in tomato cream sauce with Trio's signature meatballs ($9.95), Ullrich's ears pointed. Marlena's choice—penne and pesto, with an opt-out on meat. And since marinara is perhaps the second-best test of an Italian-inspired restaurant (pasta being the first), I selected spaghetti with marinara, con Italian sausage.

The "bread"—an unattractive stack of what could only be described as hotdog buns rubbed with dry oregano and Parmesan—appeared milliseconds after ordering. Without the first aid of butter or olive oil, the "bread" was an instant fatality. Some basic, crusty bread would be an easy improvement. Unfortunately, our side salads were another bruising example of a start-up restaurant trying to find its way. Atop a nicely portioned plate of mesculin greens, with an honest balsamic vinaigrette, was a dollup of canned, three bean salad. Get those pickled green beans, kidneys, and garbanzos in your mouth at the same time as the balsamic vinegar and you won't be able to whistle for a week. If the beans were given the can, Pasta Trio would have a respectable little insalata.

When the pasta arrived, all eyes went to Ullrich's tortellini, its tomato cream sauce adding some sophistication to the average, distributor-purchased, cheese-filled pasta. And though the meatballs were too heavy for an already rich dish, they were a delicious discovery. Each the size of a lady's fist, the meatballs were nicely browned with a moist, finely ground interior of beef, garlic, and pepper.

Marlena's purposefully spare penne, to my pleasant surprise, delivered a light and even distribution of pesto. And for the finishing touch, highlights of extra Parmesan cheese. Uncomplicated, yet sweetly flavorful, the penne was so filling that Marlena had food for the next day's lunch.

Sadly (at least for me) my spaghetti, a heaping plate of noodles with overly generous marinara, was the least favorite of all three plates. A watery marinara, lacking any distinguishing taste or significant character, caused the spag to pale beside Marlena and Ullrich's meals. Despite the Italian sausage being well-seasoned and well-cooked, it couldn't save the struggling spaghetti. Unlike the other sauces, the marinara needs some further experimentation and kitchen testing before it's ready for the dining room.

Dolci came in the form of cannoli ($3.95) or a slice of Milky Way cake ($3.95). The cannoli, featuring filling made at the restaurant, was too loose for easy eating and the ricotta-sugar blend had a grainy mouth feel. The Milky Way cake was significant in size, but much more disappointing, with dry chocolate layers and shortening-slicked icing.

Marlena, Ullrich, and I agreed that we'd like to keep Pasta Trio downtown, but just like it's namesake starch, Pasta Trio should be served al dente. Currently, it's still crunchy, still a bit undercooked. Problem is, if we walk away from the proverbial pot, we risk the water boiling away before we return. Pasta Trio will have said arrivederci. Our other option is to stay close to the stove, tasting a noodle now and again, testing its doneness to catch that point of perfection. If we give Pasta Trio the occasional twirl and offer our honest opinion to the kitchen, there's a chance our downtown could earn another permanent resident.