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  August 26, 1998, Wednesday A Radical Departure With Sure Footing By Ruth Reichl They have taken one of the city's most beloved old restaurants, the Coach
House on Waverly Place, and completely gutted its interior. James Beard, the
celebrated food writer, would have a hard time finding anything in this spare,
casual trattoria to remind him of the restaurant of Early American fare he once
loved.
Meanwhile Mr. Bastianich has created an entirely Italian wine list filled
with names that are unfamiliar to most Americans. ''Try it,'' you hear him
urging his customers, ''if you don't like it, I'll drink it myself.'' He isn't
serving wine by the glass, either; he is serving quartinos (250 milliliters, or
a third of a bottle).
Even the service is eccentric. When the meal ends, the table is swept free of
crumbs with a serving spoon. People tease Mr. Bastianich about this but he does
not seem to care. ''It's how they do it in Italy,'' he shrugs. ''I like the way
it looks.''
In a time when chances are rarely taken, when menus are made by focus groups
and too many restaurants cater to the bottom line, Babbo is a breath of fresh
air. Risk-taking restaurants tend to feed the very wealthy, but Babbo is meant
for those in the middle: it is moderately priced with two seven-course tasting
menus at less than $50 each.
Mr. Batali is a celebrated chef with a television show on the Food Network
and a popular restaurant, Po; Mr. Bastianich owns Felidia, Becco and Frico with
his mother, Lidia Bastianich. Seasoned restaurateurs, they have the courage to
trust their customers.
Order the marinated, fresh anchovies with summer beans and you will instantly
understand that you can trust them back. The tender, pungent little fish fillets
taste nothing like those things that come in cans. Mackerel tartare is terrific,
too, the fish so fresh it has a sweetness you do not associate with this
ordinarily oily variety. And summer lettuces with a black olive and blood orange
vinaigrette has an appealing bitterness that gives lettuce an entirely new
character.
In place of the antipasto table that has become such a restaurant cliche, Mr.
Batali serves plates of cured meats with fruits or vegetables. Sopressata from
the great, old Greenwich Village pork store, Faicco, comes with roasted beets
and shaved fennel. Spicy capocollo meat is served with raw artichokes and
pecorino cheese. And prosciutto appears in the form of fettunta, which is Tuscan
for ''bruschetta.''
There are, I might mention, two antipastos that are less successful. Braised
artichokes with goat cheese and roasted peppers is surprisingly lackluster, and
marinated portobello mushrooms with sticks of grilled polenta is dry in the
mouth.
The pastas, however, are universally impressive. My all-time favorite is a
ravioli that tastes like clouds wrapped in tender sheets sprinkled with fragrant
flowers of sage and thyme. The clouds, in this case, turn out to be calf's
brains, and they are extraordinary. Mint love letters with spicy lamb sausage
are small, explosively flavorful little packets. The beef cheek ravioli is
intense, too, and very rich. Other hits have been a special, a linguine tossed
with broccoli rape and sheep's milk cheese that emphasized the bitterness of the
vegetable and the simple ragu.
I like Mr. Batali's pastas so much that I am always tempted by his pasta
tasting menu: five different pastas followed by two desserts. But I cannot
imagine a meal at Babbo that did not include the calamari. Spicy, robust and
simplicity itself, the two-minute calamari tastes absolutely wonderful. Eating
it, I always imagine myself on a wind-swept beach in Sicily. Wild striped bass
in preserved lemon broth is also transporting, and tiny grilled lamb chops
''scottaditi'' (meant to be eaten with the fingers) are a treat. Barbecued squab
with farro (a grain) cooked with golden beets is superb.
Babbo is such a wine-oriented restaurant that it is tempting to order a plate
of cheese at the end of the meal. This is an excellent idea, so long as you save
room for dessert. The ice creams and sorbets are impressive The ice creams are
creamy and concentrated; the sorbets are so powerfully flavored that each
spoonful tastes like a bite of frozen fruit.
Satisfying as these are, the best ending to a meal at Babbo is saffron
pannacotta with poached peaches. It is like the restaurant itself: an unusual
combination of ingredients that seem destined to be together.
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