Sotto’s was quite incredible a few nights ago. It’s quite the classy, urbane and soigne type of joint. And I like that you have to visit the restaurant by going below sea level, or street level as it were.
There’s bar seating plus a tall, long communal table.
The albacore crudo was decidely addictive; sashimi-grade albacore with a suave smoked eggplant puree and some of the most picteresque, piquant caramelized onions this side of the iconic GCM burger topping.
The soup with chesnuts was a little too nuanced and subtle for me, namely one who usually likes dishes to pop with profusive flavor. But the grilled bread on the side for dipping was a thing of utter pastoral beauty quite worthy of the celestial. Grilled to the proberbial tee brushed with olive oil and blistered at the edges so that each bite is different and varying but tasty every time. This may satisfy the perpetual, controversial debate that there is no good bread in this town.
The Margherita pizza does this simple, bucolic classic well. A fiendishly puffy cruast with molten, blackened spots endearingly begging you for more, and pools of mozzerella and acidic tomato sauce just when you may have pondered that you were merely consuming just a piece of bread, a great piece of bread at that.
And there’s old-fashioneds to drink and a full-range of the trendy mixology drinks we are more than used to now.
The paragon of a deceptively simple though complex in flavor Italian meal in a more quiet stretch of Pico, before one reaches the cafes, restaurants, and bakeries of the Kosher Corridor.