An old favorite, comfortingly imperfect.

2007.11.05.

Dopo, Piedmont Ave., Oakland, CA

Cicerchie bean and kale soup
Tuna (crudo) with navel orange, meyer lemon, olives, and onion
Tagliatelle with porcini, pancetta, and gremolada
Glass of Cabernet/Sangiovese blend
Lemon ricotta zeppole
Macchiato
(and a sad lack of notebook. I didn’t do the usual and steal menus, either.)

I don’t NEED to order three courses and dessert, I thought to myself. But I seem to have developed this pattern. I perplexed the server when I listed my courses and then asked for a red wine suggestion. I probably should have gone with my usual Dolcetto but instead went for a poorly matched but tasty (and unfortunately unidentified) Cabernet/Sangiovese blend.

It was freezing (for the Bay Area, at least) when I stepped out and I was still shivering when I arrived, so I ordered soup. Simple, salty, heartily Italian, and fulfilling the greens quota, it suited its purpose. I stopped shivering enough to remove my coat and turn the pages of my novel without shaking. Wish I had received bread and butter, which never arrived.

Avid sashimi fan that I am, I’m still having difficulty in being convinced that Italian crudo is the best use of (tasty, tasty, rapidly depleting but oh-so-good) fanatically fresh seafood. I started on the tuna, frowned, and instead ate all the orange slices, which were overpowering everything. The velvety tuna, bittersweet meyer lemon rind, and salty olive nubs were a nice, clean but ultimately unimpressive dish. I’ve definitely had better crudo at Dopo (see the glorious salmon from a few months ago), and it’s disappointing that tuna was demoted to the level of intermediary palate cleanser that only lettuce deserves.

Then, almost as expected, I had a really long wait. Two chapters worth — even short, non-sequitur Murakami chapters — would be unacceptable anywhere else. It’s amazing how consistently slow the service is, nearly a year (?) after their expansion. But after long last, my tagliatelle arrived, and balance was restored in the world. THIS is why I come here. Fresh pasta, bashfully beginning to adhere to itself in spite of the nearly invisible cream sauce, interspersed with tender but toothsome porcini, dotted with pancetta, spiked with lemony gremolada. Simple, warm, and with a flavor profile that I can’t quite verbalize, but is distinctly Dopo.

“What are zeppole?” I asked.  She replied, “They’re like beignets, with lemon ricotta in the batter.” Who can go wrong with anything beignet-like? The batter was perfect and not quite sweet, the outside crispy and coated in powdered sugar. The macchiato was, well, a macchiato (courtesy of Ecco Caffe). This would be a perfect pair for breakfast if I were a glutton. Er, wait….

I got out of there for $65. They must have raised their prices a little, or perhaps I’m just becoming MORE gluttonous. O, Dopo, I’m glad you’re still delicious and slightly unkempt, imperfect but thankfully ever-present, like a frumpy ex-boyfriend whom you adore but still secretly smirk at for being single. Maybe I should go back tonight and get pizza.