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| Vol. 25, No. 1 |
| January 15, 2003 |
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The WOW Factor -- By ALISON COOK Houston Chronicle Restaurant Critic Copyright 2002, Houston Chronicle Publishing Company. Reprinted with permission. All rights reserved. What if I told you the next great Houston restaurant was in a parking garage? Get used to it. Trevísio, the ambitious new Italianate venture in the heart of the Texas Medical Center, happens to occupy the top floor of what must surely be the city’s most glamorous parking garage. It’s not even called a “parking garage,” this recent manifestation of the Medical Center’s current building boom: It is rather grandiosely titled the “John P. McGovern Texas Medical Center Commons.” Two granite waterwalls front the massive six-story structure. The ground floor houses a very flossy modern food court, shimmering with silvery steel and populated by such vendors as Starbucks and Kim Son. The next five floors offer thoroughly modern (and somewhat spooky) parking in which human hands never intervene, from the moment you take your ticket, through the moment you pop your machine-purchased parking token into a little slot, whereupon a bar lifts to free you from the building. At the summit of this Neverland sits Trevísio, a svelte semicircular space defined by gleamy glass partitions, concentric ceiling billows of pleated fabric and a dramatic miniwaterwall that glows deep, electric cobalt behind its nighttime lighting. From the sweep of floor-to-ceiling windows, the twin hypodermics of the St. Luke’s Tower wink in the dark. This is the kind of sexy, self-assured room Houston has come to expect from downtown nightlife entrepreneur David Edwards, the orchestrator of the Mercury Room, Boaka Bar and Zula. Edwards has kept Trevísio relatively understated, probably in deference to the conservative tastes of the medical establishmentarians who are the target audience. Even the color palette is restricted to deep rich blues and pale terra cottas. But the “wow” factor is definitely there. And the food lives up to it, making Trevísio the kind of amenity the Medical Center has needed since good-and-good-for-you Chez Eddy shuttered many years ago. Chef Alan Ashkinaze is as talented in his way as Lance Fegen of Zula, Edwards’ other smart chef hire. You can tell Ashkinaze has tried manfully to put the concept-dictated Italian spin on his menu, but his cuisine is really New American with a vaguely Italian overlay. And what of it? Three visits have convinced me that Edwards & Co. might be wiser to ditch the Italian format and just let Ashkinaze be Ashkinaze. He’s full of brilliant momenta and good ideas, and truth to tell, his overtly Italian dishes are seldom the best items on the menu. Why bother with a perfectly nice, perfectly uninteresting bowl of linguine with mussels, garlic and white-wine clam broth when you can wallow in such knockout creations as Ashkinaze’s “Sliced Pastrami of Foie Gras” with apple salad? I don’t think there’s a better version of this now-obligatory luxury item in town. Ashkinaze rolls the rich duck liver in a surprising mix of dark seeds and spices (fennel and poppy among them) to achieve the pastrami effect, then chills and thinly slices the gently poached log. It is as voluptuous as expensive satin. And the bracingly tart salad of julienned green apples alongside it is an original touch. I’d come here just to eat the foie gras or Ashkinaze’s chilled Maine lobster, a theatrical-looking plate in which the head and foreshell rear up as decoration, while the claw and tail stretch out unencumbered, save for a sprightly accent of avocado mousse with a marinated-pepper confetti underneath. Lobster often is a chewy disappointment. This one is not. It’s worth the 18 bucks ($17 at lunch), and there’s enough to make a light meal. In case you haven’t noticed, this is not one of those overtly heart-healthy menus in the style of the late Chez Eddy. But aside from the obvious luxury-dish excesses, Ashkinaze’s preference for lightness and minimal saucing fits the health-conscious setting. Trevísio is one of those restaurants where I’d be happy just eating appetizers, a form at which Ashkinaze shines. His roasted, barely gelled sea scallops with tomato compote and asparagus profit from a lively Parmesan vinaigrette. Pomegranate-glazed quail gets a rich, dusky sauce and one of the ingenious small salad garnishes the chef seems to love – here, it’s a tart mixed-cabbage slaw. Opulent tuna sashimi gets another eye-opening salad, of pungent daikon radish and fresh orange, but it’s the tuna’s basil-oil marinade that is the revelation. I figured it would turn out to be a labored attempt at Italianization; instead the dark raw tuna and light herb emulsion tasted like ingredients born to be together, and a puddle of ginger oil was an extra added attraction. Ashkinaze loves to drizzle his plates with various oils, emulsions and especially balsamic syrup, in which the vinegar is reduced to its dark, sticky essence. It’s a refreshing change from the usual ponds of sauce; and it gives his dishes a lightness and definition I admire. His flavors are bright and immediate; they seem to bloom. Even a standard like grilled Atlantic salmon comes alive when it is seared only until the inside grows custardlike, then given a meadow-green river of parsley-and-olive oil sauce. And a plate of roasted pork tenderloin ticks like Swiss clockwork, from shiny-glazed fennel bulbs to tender gnochhi, from sweet grapes to salty linguica sausage. Many chefs would kill this dish off with a sweet sauce; Ashkinaze doesn’t succumb to the impulse. Really, the only entrees that left me indifferent were the linguine with mussels and the too-salty ravioli stuffed with shredded duck; however the latter swam in a bath of truffled Parmesan broth that was good enough to serve as a soup. The salads here are interesting and finely composed – particularly the “napoleon” of mixed greens layered with papery tiles of ricotta salata – but the kitchen has a tendency to overdress them slightly, and a mixture of arugula, grilled corn and candied pecans would be nicer if its sherry vinaigrette were less sweet. But kudos are due to a house salad of fresh mozzarella and beefsteak tomatoes that are decent even in midwinter; its marinated peppers and swizzle of basil oil and balsamic syrup are just right. So what’s to complain about? A wine list that seems lifted from Zula, except for some purely perfunctory Italian choices, and the startling absence of a by-the-glass list. The choices offered from memory by the staff are only so-so. Or worse: a minibottle of Cristallino “champagne” was as dead as a doornail, and so was its replacement. I’ll admit I was mystified by the inclusion of Zula’s signature barbecue shrimp appetizer on this menu. It’s a swell dish, but its two-fisted Fegen style seems at odds with the Ashkinaze sensibility. I’d rather taste Ashkinaze’s take on shrimp and go to Zula for Fegen’s. Desserts here tend to be a bit too ponderous to match the menu’s light sensibility. The best option is the house-made gelatos; blackberry, pistachio and marsala-laced zabaglione all are subtle and delicious. The service can be good, but the room seems slightly understaffed, perhaps because the restaurant has not hit its stride yet. One Tuesday night, the expansive space was a bit eerie with only three tables occupied; but on a recent Saturday, the place was hopping with Christmas parties, one of them in the glassed-in central room that offers “private” dining on full display, an amusing twist. A sign posted in the entryway noted that the Venezia and Roma rooms were reserved for “Infectious Diseases.” Lunch is a busy scene of doctors, support staff, vendors and visitors just looking for a moment’s relief from the cares of visiting sick relatives and friends. For them, Trevísio is true balm in the wilderness. And for any Houstonians who haven’t taken a look at what’s going on lately in the city-within-the-city that is the Medical Center, Trevísio is all the excuse you need for a visit. Go at night, when the room is at its most alluring. I’m betting you’ll be back. Trevisio, 6550 Bertner Ave.;
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