Like an old lover, we keep coming back to Dolce Vita, again and again, forgiving every one of its faults. The crust is perfectly seared one night, but it’s too thick, doughy, and undercooked the next. Yesterday, orecchiette with escarole and sweet sausage was the porky, glutinous, slightly bitter pasta dish of our dreams; today, a plate of spaghetti, clams, and chickpeas is dry and incoherent. On one evening, our waitress is perfect; on another, she goes AWOL for 45 minutes.

Yet still we love Dolce Vita with all our hearts. Granted, the whole thing is a carbon copy of Mario Batali’s Otto. But we love Otto, too—so what’s the problem?

Sometimes the very qualities that most attract you to lovers, or restaurants, are the same ones that irritate you. Maybe the service is spotty because they cram in so many tables, so that they can keep down waits and accommodate as many people as possible. Maybe the kitchen is occasionally inconsistent because they’re operating on a cost base that allows them to keep nearly every item on the menu under $15. The truly unusual thing about this restaurant is its principled devotion to certain priorities, like preparing strictly authentic Italian dishes, without a single concession to American tastes; serving them in a warm, bustling, effortlessly enjoyable two-story space with a patio; and doing it at prices that are accessible even to starving students.

As such, we take an off-night at Dolce Vita as just another excuse to come back the next: to dip another piece of crunchy fennel into bagna cauda, the vegetable dip to end all others, made simply and gloriously from garlic, anchovies, and oil; to revel in another plate of spectacular marinated whitefish, or of delicately fried baby artichoke; or to relax once again with a simple pizza margherita, made with buffalo-milk mozzarella, which—when it’s on—is rivaled in Houston only by the pizza at Marco Wiles’ other restaurant, Da Marco. And then there is the truffled-egg toast, whose elemental pleasure can only be experienced, not written about.

As with any rocky relationship, drinks help. The wine list is exemplary; it’s all Italian, all small-production, and more about terroir than they are about emulating big California styles. For under $30, you can have an evocative, balanced wine.

Oh, Dolce Vita, you know how to keep us hanging on.

Been a long while since our last trip. This time was disappointing. Service was slow and the food quality declined. The pizza did not smell like something I wanted to eat. Not sure whether the ingredients were old or what but could only tell it was the pizza. Maybe after a few months I'll give it another try but definitely not in the near future.

matthou - 2010-01-28 09:55

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