I live in a city with more than five thousand restaurants; but I usually go to my ten or so favorites, a bit out of laziness and a bit out of being afraid to try new things and regret later. Since I have been thinking about moving out of San Francisco, a sheer-horror-thought invaded me: "I must try at least 100 good ones or so, or else I might regret eternally". So this is it: every Monday, if the Almighty permits, I will post my sincere chronicling and humble opinion about whichever restaurant I manage to go in the weekend. One may ask if I am entitled to do so; you should know that I am the pickiest eater, a not so bad cook, una buona forchetta, and I have a nose that can identify every ingredient in a meal, or at least say "they've used oregano, parsley, and something else I can't quite put my finger on".
So last night was The Last Supper Club turn, the second one in my list right after Incanto. My great grandparent came to United States from Valle di Maddalloni and I have a longing about Southern Italy that goes beyond the rational. The Last Supper Club features cuisine from that exact region, and they serve lasagna everyday, which is amazingly hard to find in Italian restaurants, to my amusement and deception. Lasagna is a very simple plate, so for me it is like they say in Brazil "show me your rice and I'll tell if you can cook". So, show me your lasagna and I'll tell you if you can cook Italian.
The LSC can. They could use a dash more salt and less cinnamon and nutmeg in theirs, but I am suspiciously Brazilian (probably the spot in the world that uses the most salt in its food), so it is probably my fault, not theirs, that I find it missing salt. Nevertheless, it was delicious and worth it, at a very reasonable price. The featured region at the moment was Sardinia, so the novelties in the menu came from there. After making sure their lasagna was ok, I jumped in for surprises: fennel soup, light hearted, refreshing and fun, a great summer soup. The fregola (a pasta made out of semolina that resembles in shape to a huge couscous and was cooked al dente perfecto - as it must) with zesty tomato, white wine and clams sauce (which my 4 year old son devoured) was memorable, simple and hearty to the point of sophistication. I even found a recipe in the web (which seems a bit more simple when it comes to ingredients) and I might give it a try. The Pollo alla Cacciatora was pretty good; at least as good as chicken can go. The wine was Aglianico, 'Fidelis' Cantina del Taburno, Campania 2001. I have been in a Campania wine itch, in what I like to imagine I am drinking the wine my ancestors used to (and my uncle used to make in his Brooklyn basement, with their own Brooklyn grown grapes, fairly described as the most horrible grapes ever grown by this family...). The Panna Cotta, immersed in primitivo laced huckleberries, was divine; each spoon was like tasting clouds, just the right amount of sweetness, the perfect finish for a fine meal. The service wasn't the fastest, I was halfway in my Second Course when the wine finally arrived, but one could tell they were experiencing a shortage in waiting staff. I usually don't mind; many vacations in Bahia have taught me to be patient in restaurants; if they are taking their time, occasionally it is for the best. Slow food supporters might agree with me, and I am very forgiving, as long as the waiter does bring me a meal that makes me forget the wait.