A Tuscan culinary sojourn at Toscana

JAKARTA (JP): Italian food was the last thing on my mind that Monday night. Still reeling from post-weekend exhaustion and gluttony, I would say abstinence best fit the bill. More meat, wine, cream? See you in another life.

But fate intruded in the shape of visitors from afar (it always does). They were all revved up (they almost always are). The night was still young (it almost always is). Halfway through the niceties, they decided on homespun candor: "Gee, we kinda feel like pasta tonight". I could feel self-respect slipping away from me. Worse, my partner seemed to relish the moment.

The lesson here was that a dinner of raw tomatoes and steamed broccoli simply was not meant to be. So we packed them into our car and went south to -- where else? -- Kemang.

As if to add insult to injury, Jl. Kemang Raya in South Jakarta had the gall not to live up to the hype, genuine or not. Granted, Monday night is not the hottest time to be anywhere, but the sight of a bright stretch of road deadened by inertia was worse than a lonely highway in Canyon country.

But Toscana proved that fatigue makes a coward, not to mention a sullen brat, of us all. Beyond its obvious popularity (not once in our two-hour visit was it not full-house), it is an up-tone and elegant restaurant, a kind of floating, hazy otherworld of urban rustic that is way more edifying than Rp 15,000 worth of escapism to a Hollywood-manufactured fantasy world.

The structure is vernacular with ceiling-less roof, wide construction beams, wood, limestone, stuccoed finish. The substance is pure cafe culture, and a subtle nod to Melbournian hip, with its friendly, understated chic and a glossy bar off to the side. Yet the amalgamation is effortlessly smooth: bustling but private, trendy but not ostentatious.

Crowds - mostly expatriates -- kept pouring in, as if certain that on their way out they would reenter Jakarta Proper replete and replenished. In keeping with this belief, they seemed to be hanging around for ages in perfect homage to Sicilian laissez- faire. Vinegar, olive oil and superb bread sticks take their place coyly on individual tables, followed soon by assorted antipasti that looks like dummies for a Vogue Living spread.

By the time we were seated, I was almost in love with my companions. They had long since mellowed, their gaze beady with a mix of pleasure and anticipation.

As intoxicating as Toscana's warmly seductive lighting is its menu. The selection seemed an early portent of authenticity -- enough to concoct images of the Adriatic Sea or the hills of Umbria. Two orders of bruschetta (grilled sliced bread with chopped tomatoes, garlic and fresh basil) and a mixed salad arrived just after we bonded over our perfunctory soft drinks.

I was given the privilege to dress the salad, and I did so unsparingly. The result was fruity and bracing, thanks to a particularly refined balsamic oil. The bruschetta is clearly a standout among the entrees. Wonderfully fresh tomatoes and basil leaves rested atop generous slices of vintage French bread, grilled just this side of tender and doused with a gutsy dose of garlic and olive oil. It was nothing short of fabulous.

Opinions slightly varied regarding the pastas. Our friends tended to take the negative side: one found his spaghetti carbonara satisfactory, though it could have stood a lighter hand on the chili (which I found almost a contradiction in terms). The other deemed her macaroni with eggplant and basil sauce downright peppery. Another mini complaint came from my partner, whose ultra-pricey seafood risotto was deemed "too sticky".

While the first two complaints could be dismissed as a matter of taste, I do not believe the last one could have been done any better (although that still doesn't justify its Rp 26,000 price). Risotto, preferred over pasta in northern Italy, has no way of avoiding being a mite sticky, especially when it is cooked in butter, tomato-based sauce and fish stock.

A more valid criticism would be about the fish soup (zuppa di pesce). Too rich? Too flaky? Definitely.

Individual tastes aside, I always maintain that food is like musical interpretation. Finesse is not necessarily the high watermark of culinary achievement. Finesse, like a faultless technique, can be boring. My spaghetti with garlic, olive oil and chili was a case in point. The fundamentals were perfect: the spaghetti al dente, the presentation artful, the portion just right. But that extra dash of garlic and chili gave it a punch, which made all the difference. It made it special rather than merely piquant.

Adhering to the dictum "less is more", we stayed clear of the second main course. Choices include hearty veal dishes and popular classics such as osso bucco and deep-fried assorted seafood. Pizza lovers would also delight in a wide selection of thin-crust, Italian-style pizzas.

My personal kudos, however, stopped there. Passing up on cappuccino wasn't actually my style, but my dessert habit took the upperhand this time (which was just as well, since the visitors told me their cappuccinos were only lukewarm). My choice fell on zuccotto, a special dessert from Florence whose shape is said to resemble the dome of Florence's famous church, the Duomo. Instead of a heavenly mix of sponge cake, dark chocolate, cream, brandy, Maraschino liqueur, hazelnuts and almonds, what I got was a moussey strawberry bavarois that reminded me of airplane dessert.

But, yes, I would go again, maybe many, many times more. For those myriad dishes that I haven't tried, the ambience, and for the bar, where the action rarely amps up to more than mellow. It is an expensive place (Rp 177,265 for four, minus wine), for sure, but on that Monday night, it was the fullest house in Kemang.

-- Epicurus