Mulberry is a closet-sized wine bar tucked neatly into a quiet corner of Austin’s new 360 building. Chances are slim that you’d stumble upon it while walking from one downtown destination to the next, but it’s more than worth the detour. This is not because the place feels so trendy—it would seem more at home in SoHo than in this laid-back city—but rather because of the Italian-influenced modern American cuisine that has taken Austin by surprise.
The space is barely a restaurant. Mulberry can go from cozy to cramped quickly. There are only two tables for groups of three or more, and many—perhaps most—people who dine here, even on dates, sit side-by-side at the horseshoe bar that faces the small kitchen window.
But it’s what happens on the other side of that window that has so quickly caught the city’s culinary attention. Depressed fans of the excellent, recently deceased Italian restaurant Cibo will be happy to know that its former sous chef is in charge of this kitchen, and he’s still constructing delicious dishes from classic Mediterranean ingredients.
An Achilles heel of many chefs is not knowing how to self-edit, favoring cleverness for the sake of being clever instead of just letting the ingredients speak for themselves. This is a trend that’s thankfully absent at Mulberry, from the wisely chosen oysters to the ridiculously good lamb agnolotti with sage and Parmigiano-Reggiano, a dish that tastes like you’re eating little bites of autumn. A house burger with gruyère, pancetta, and a fried egg allows you to indulge your craving for breakfast anytime. The richness of braised veal is lifted by a fennel-and-apple salad, although it’s overdressed—a frequent problem here. There have been other problems, too, with consistency and execution—many of them arising since the publication of the Second Edition—from hot food coming out cold to haphazard salting. But then there are the meatballs, which are hands down the best in the city; the combination of veal, pork, white wine, lemon, and bay leaf satisfies your soul on a deep, visceral level.
Cubbies filled with wine bottles form a halo around the room. While the wine list is full of appealing choices, we wish there were a dry sherry to go with the salty baked cod spread, roasted almonds, and olives under the “snacks” menu.
But the positives far outweigh the negatives, and this is an exciting arrival indeed. We would like to recommend that the leasing office at the 360 building hand out one of Mulberry’s meatballs to every potential resident—we would hazard a guess that they’d sign the lease after the first bite.
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