You can imagine that Theo Gilbert would have sided with the free commune of Perugia in the Salt War of 1540. That’s when the Umbrian city rebelled against Pope Paul III after he dumped a new salt tax on their heads. Perugians lost the war and were absorbed into the Papal States, but stopped putting salt in their bread, an act of civil disobedience that resulted in the pane sciapo, or “bland bread,” they still bake today.
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Marcella Hazan, the doyenne of classical Italian cooking, disapproves of the quintessentially American practice of sopping good oil up with table bread, but Gilbert, the uncompromising chef-owner of the late Terragusto, has earned some slack. The Roscoe Village location he opened five years ago (one in Lincoln Park followed) was among the first midscale—i.e., not Spiaggia—restaurants educating Chicagoans on the sublimities of fresh house-made pasta. If he and his staff could, on occasion, be supercilious or condescending, that’s something we routinely forgive of culinary artisans who show a higher way (see Great Lake and the now-closed Pasticceria Natalina). Theoretically, we should be grateful that Gilbert, after closing both BYOBs—citing the lousy economy (and, bizarrely, Two Buck Chuck-swilling Occupiers)—found a way to return in a narrow Wicker Park space once inhabited by the unlamented Caoba.
You could take Gilbert’s saltless bread as an auspicious sign that what they’ll be bringing you after it will be both rigorously authentic and delicious. It’s unquestionable that, as at Terragusto, the pastas are the magnet, many carrying over from that menu. The cappellaci is particularly recommended. Often referred to as “pope’s” or “brigand’s” hats, these tender pillows are stuffed with sweet squash and Parmigiano, sauteed in sage and brown butter, and sprinkled with crumbled amaretti, the almond cookies that transport this sumptuous northern recipe into the region of dessert.
1619 N. Damen 773-342-8799ripassochicago.com
