Dell’Anima
38 Eighth Ave., at Jane St. (212-366-6633)
Early in the evening, the back door of this tiny enoteca is often left ajar, to reveal the red neon sign of the Corner Bistro across the street. Inside, youthful attitude and precocity abound. The executive chef, Gabe Thompson, previously worked at Le Bernardin and Del Posto but has never run a kitchen; the general manager, Joe Campanale, a former sommelier at Babbo, is only twenty-three years old. The patrons—suits and just-back-from-Turks-and-Caicos tans—nestle in sleek banquettes, so high that their feet dangle, or perch at a bar overlooking the chef and his two line cooks, working feverishly in a tiny open kitchen.
The food is both faithfully Italian and surprising. An order of bruschetta might include toppings of chickpeas perfumed with preserved lemon or a “lily” confit of translucent bulbs (shallot, onion, garlic) whose pallor belies its intense flavor. Glossy cuts of pork belly are strewn with persimmons that implode when pricked. In the pastas, ingredients are pleasingly textured, whether in a chunky calamari ragù (spooned over squid-ink fettucine, a cute joke) or a savory mix of sage, Fontina, and shaved Brussels sprouts. Standards like wild boar and seared tuna are given new contexts, the meat atop mascarpone-rich polenta, the fish surrounded by chestnuts, crisped artichoke, and a velouté-like swath of sunchoke purée. Other dishes seem designed primarily to stoke your thirst, like the chicken “al diavolo,” rubbed ferociously with smoked paprika, or a salty serving of ricotta ravioli. This is food as the consort, not peer, of drink. Fortunately, the wine list is fairly democratic, although it’s easy if you’re ordering by the glass to wind up with a single pour that costs more than your entrée. (A dark, moody Sangiovese was a breathtaking twenty-five dollars a pop.)
Dell’Anima has a stylish brashness that can be the cause of some uneasiness. On a recent night, two long-term denizens of the neighborhood (four decades and counting) were shunted nearly out of sight in a back corner. “Anaïs Nin once lived in our building,” one of them said. The couple reminisced about the site’s former tenant, Freddy Ristorante, where they’d often celebrated New Year’s Eve, then admitted that they did, in fact, like Dell’Anima’s food. Still, they couldn’t quite give their hearts to the new kid on the block. “The people moving in here now aren’t artists,” the wife said wistfully. “They’re businessmen.” (Open daily for dinner. Entrées $15-$25.)
(Photograph: Sarah Mangerson)
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