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Feb. 5th, 2013 10:32 pm
Sud dal Nord
Today I had to head down to my doctor's office again to give them a specimen. (Fourth time for the same test, for those of you keeping track.) So to take the curse off, I suggested to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
monshu that we make an outing of it. He agreed to kill some time after work at the Starbucks in the CTA station (little did we know how impractical this would be; who ever heard of a Starbucks with no seating at all?) and then meet me at Sono Wood Fired when I was done.
Yes, it's another representative of a lingering hot foot trend. Fortunately, it's a respectable one. It was two-for-one pizza night, which is a heck of a deal--a pizza apiece would've been plenty for each of us. But we decided to make it interesting and make a whole meal of it, which is to say bruschetta, antipasto, drinks, and dessert.
The cipollini bruschetta is piled high with caramelised onions soaked in lavender honey, resulting in something akin to onion marmalade. (There was also some Humboldt Fog in the mix, but we scarcely noticed it.) Satisfying, if small. (We were warned.) Compensating for that was the mess of loose leaves that constituted the fried artichoke appetiser. I wouldn't've thought these would be robust enough for dipping, but they mostly were (though the GWO preferred the expedience of dipping his fork in the surprisingly zesty lemon aioli and using it to schnag a bunch of them) without requiring too much breading to get them that way.
Now what really appealed to me about their pizzas was their whiteness. Most places offer one or two pizzas without tomato; here they were as numerous as the pizze rosse. The wild mushroom and the speck were praised online, and we can see why. The speck probably had the edge due to the wonderful smokiness of both the prosciutto and the mozzarella. (The oven-blasted radicchio contributed little, but at least it wasn't ashen enough to detract.) But we'd order either of them again in a New York minute.
The desserts were the typical afterthoughts, like crème caramel and brought-in gelato. But at least the gelati were from Black Dog. Since a serving is two scoops (unnecessarily, in my opinion--I'm eating it for the taste, not the calories), I had both the nocciola and the cashew caramel goat cheese, neither of which I liked as much as the salted caramel that came on top ofmonshu's chocolate cake. Of course, that could have something to do with the fact that mine was served too freezer-hard and his was perfectly softened.
As for atmosphere, there's something a bit contradictory in the way Sono presents itself. The decor says "casual but upscale" with its velvet drapes and low lighting. But then there's a tv above the bar broadcasting a Blue Devils game and the music is raucous indie pop (i.e. Arcade Fire, The Strokes). It must draw a bit of the Steppenwolf crowd--monshu wasn't the only whitehair at the early hour we were there and the server asked if we were "going to the show". I imagine the crowd gets more Trixie and Chad as the evening wears on. But for a 6 p.m. seating it's pleasantly sparse.
[Language pedant notes: They did pretty well overall, correctly pluralising bruschetta and pizze bianche, which made their total fail on the wine list--"vino bianche"--all the more unfortunate. I accidentally hypercorrected and asked for the "pizza ai funghi", which the serve took well in stride.]
monshu that we make an outing of it. He agreed to kill some time after work at the Starbucks in the CTA station (little did we know how impractical this would be; who ever heard of a Starbucks with no seating at all?) and then meet me at Sono Wood Fired when I was done.Yes, it's another representative of a lingering hot foot trend. Fortunately, it's a respectable one. It was two-for-one pizza night, which is a heck of a deal--a pizza apiece would've been plenty for each of us. But we decided to make it interesting and make a whole meal of it, which is to say bruschetta, antipasto, drinks, and dessert.
The cipollini bruschetta is piled high with caramelised onions soaked in lavender honey, resulting in something akin to onion marmalade. (There was also some Humboldt Fog in the mix, but we scarcely noticed it.) Satisfying, if small. (We were warned.) Compensating for that was the mess of loose leaves that constituted the fried artichoke appetiser. I wouldn't've thought these would be robust enough for dipping, but they mostly were (though the GWO preferred the expedience of dipping his fork in the surprisingly zesty lemon aioli and using it to schnag a bunch of them) without requiring too much breading to get them that way.
Now what really appealed to me about their pizzas was their whiteness. Most places offer one or two pizzas without tomato; here they were as numerous as the pizze rosse. The wild mushroom and the speck were praised online, and we can see why. The speck probably had the edge due to the wonderful smokiness of both the prosciutto and the mozzarella. (The oven-blasted radicchio contributed little, but at least it wasn't ashen enough to detract.) But we'd order either of them again in a New York minute.
The desserts were the typical afterthoughts, like crème caramel and brought-in gelato. But at least the gelati were from Black Dog. Since a serving is two scoops (unnecessarily, in my opinion--I'm eating it for the taste, not the calories), I had both the nocciola and the cashew caramel goat cheese, neither of which I liked as much as the salted caramel that came on top of
monshu's chocolate cake. Of course, that could have something to do with the fact that mine was served too freezer-hard and his was perfectly softened.As for atmosphere, there's something a bit contradictory in the way Sono presents itself. The decor says "casual but upscale" with its velvet drapes and low lighting. But then there's a tv above the bar broadcasting a Blue Devils game and the music is raucous indie pop (i.e. Arcade Fire, The Strokes). It must draw a bit of the Steppenwolf crowd--
monshu wasn't the only whitehair at the early hour we were there and the server asked if we were "going to the show". I imagine the crowd gets more Trixie and Chad as the evening wears on. But for a 6 p.m. seating it's pleasantly sparse.[Language pedant notes: They did pretty well overall, correctly pluralising bruschetta and pizze bianche, which made their total fail on the wine list--"vino bianche"--all the more unfortunate. I accidentally hypercorrected and asked for the "pizza ai funghi", which the serve took well in stride.]