Herald on Sunday rating: * *
Where: 263 Ponsonby Road
Ph:(09) 361 1556
Open: Dinner, seven days; lunch, weekends.
Vegetarian: Salads and pasta.
Wine list: Only two Italian reds by the glass. There is a cellar list.
Watch out for: Garish lighting.
Bottom line: Disappointing.
KEY POINTS:
The Caesar salad is not an Italian dish. If it belongs to any culinary tradition, it is Tex-Mex, since the Caesar after whom it is named was actually Cesar Cardini, a Mexican chef who knocked it up (the circumstances are hotly disputed) in either Tijuana or San Diego in the 1920s.
At Gusto, they dress it up with an Italian name (Cesare), but they make a mess of Senor Cardini's idea. The mandatory croutons, crisp cubes of bread toasted in garlic oil and tossed through so as to soak up the dressing, morph into thin bread discs arrayed on the edge of the bowl. Bacon is added - a hideous habit, unknown in America - and the rashers are big, warm and greasy.
Inexplicably, slices of sun-dried tomato insinuate themselves into the mix. The dressing is bland, not tangy.
There's nothing wrong with adapting a classic, of course, but it is like setting Macbeth in the 'burbs or in space: you need a damn good reason for doing so, and the change needs to add something to the original.
But Gusto's Caesar was a culinary masterpiece compared to its insalata caprese.
This Italian delight demands that prince of cheeses, mozzarella di bufala, but we got the inferior cow's milk fior di latte, a hard, rubbery and tasteless cheese made for use in pizzas.
The waitress explained that a dioxin scare in Campania has halted exports of the buffalo version - although there was plenty in my local supermarket the day before. But if a vital ingredient is unavailable, the dish should be dropped from the menu. At the very least, diners paying $15 for a salad should be told that an ersatz product is being served.
Gusto occupies the space that was for years home to Leonardo's, whose eponymous proprietor has moved on (although he remains in spirit, in the (ungrammatical) "alla Leonardo" dish on the menu).
It has changed little, if at all, since his day: the brick walls and worn wooden furniture lend a homely atmosphere that strings of winking lights cannot entirely dispel (why does the land that gave us Michelangelo and Verdi do such appalling pop music and restaurant decor?).
The greeting is likewise warm and hearty as befits a cheerful neighbourhood trattoria.
But, like its predecessor, Gusto charges ristorante-level prices, not far short of those at the sublime Toto and higher than those at the excellent O'Sarracino.
I should add that the helpings would have satisfied a trencherman's appetite, but I always think that in dining out, as in many areas of life, size ain't everything.
In any case, the prices raise expectations on which chefs Luigi Mattioli and Armando Koci sadly fail to deliver.
The house-made ravioli, filled with mushrooms and pesto, were too thick-skinned for my liking - too much outside and not enough inside, not unlike the kind you can pick up at the supermarket.
The Blonde's pumpkin gnocchi, by contrast, were excellently delicate, devoid of the stodge factor, but the busy, creamy, cheesy tomato sauce drowned the subtler pumpkin taste.
The single main we chose, of thin-sliced veal scallopine in a creamy mushroom sauce, was tasty enough although the hint of promised truffle pesto was, to say the least, subtle.
In short, this is hearty fare rather than fine food, but the prices - most mains north of $30 without sides - make it questionable value for money.
THE BILL
$153 for two
Salads (2) $31
Pasta (2) $49
Mains (1) $32.50
Dessert (1) $11.50
Wine (three glasses) $2
- Detours, HoS
