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Given the location of Scott Conant’s latest
Scarpetta (the eponymous sister to his Meatpacking District dazzler)
in the newly renovated Fontainebleau
in Miami Beach, it’s not surprising that you enter the restaurant
almost expecting paparazzi. And when, midway through your meal,
photog Bruce Weber arrives with an entourage of ten, you could
easily be forgiven for indulging your own private celluloid
fantasies. Scarpetta is the kind of restaurant that combines the
sexiness of LA with the professionalism of New York—and then stirs
in a hefty dose of Miami Beach
glamour. After all, the Fontainebleau is Morris Lapidus’s
once-reviled chef d’oeuvre—now brimming with the confidence
of a $1 billion makeover.
Located at the base of
Sorrento Tower, the sleek sumptuous restaurant designed by David
Collins overlooks the Fontainebleau’s poolscape, with a wraparound
veranda for almost-oceanside dining. Exhibiting a kind of
restrained nautical design scheme—think Cunard Line with elements of
classic waterfront Newport “cottages”—Scarpetta feels like a private
yacht sailing through the Mediterranean early in September.
In 2002, Conant made a huge splash with the
gorgeous L’Impero in Manhattan’s
Tudor City—but Conant left and L’Impero closed—and Tudor
City’s loss is Miami Beach’s gain. A critics’ favorite for his take
on southern Italian, Conant continues his masterful touch at
Scarpetta—a name which translates to “little shoe” and is an Italian
expression for the shape that your bread takes on when you sop up
every last bit of a meal. As if to validate the restaurant’s
implied challenge, a brimming breadbasket commences the meal, served
with a tray of three luscious dipping sauces—one a mascarpone butter
that would break the willpower of even the most steadfast dieter.
As for the bread itself, you’ll probably have to ask for a second
basket before your second course arrives. This is Italian bread
that could make a French baker weep with envy.
Some of L’Impero’s most cherished dishes remain
on Scarpetta’s menu—such as the creamy polenta with a fricassee of
truffled mushrooms. Served in a small silver porringer accompanied
by a porcelain bowl, this combination is highly elevated nursery
food, hitting all the right comfort notes and designed to leave one
smacking one’s lips—and reaching for another scarpetta.
An assagini called tuna “sucsi” arrived plated like a Cy Twombly
painting, as did a beautiful scallop tartare served on a landscape
of baby greens, avocado, citrus salad and chives. Our fellow diners
stared in amazement, uncertain, at first, as to whether it should be
valued as art—or eaten. As for the mozzarella in carozza
(mozzarella in a “carriage”) served with stewed baby tomatoes, this
was Conant’s refined twist on the classic grilled-cheese-and-tomato.
Long celebrated for his ability to extract the most elemental
flavors from the purest ingredients, Conant has made his spaghetti
with tomato and basil something of a legend. Served in a bowl, the
dish is a tangle of pasta and summer’s bounty—and so toothsome and
seductive as to make you consider ordering a second.
Hold off, however, and order dessert. There’s deconstructed
tiramisu, for example, and also a caramelized apple “pie” with
polenta crust, black pepper-caramel sauce, and honey-vanilla
gelato.
As for service, expect the kind of polish and professionalism long
associated with some of
Italy’s finest ristorante. And if at meal’s end, you have to remind
yourself you’re not anchored along the Amalfi coast, relax—you’re in
Miami Beach, the American Riviera. Avanti! |
