11712 San Vicente Blvd. | Los Angeles, CA 90049 | (310) 826-9222 | www.adotecabrentwood.com | Prices: $$$
Nestled amidst the hustle and bustle of San Vicente Boulevard is a tiny restaurant serving big flavors. Owners Paolo Cesaro and Chef Antonio Mure have created a sanctuary with tables dressed in white linen and walls paneled in rustic timber.
The moment you step inside a sense of calm washes over you. This is the third venture of its kind for the native Italian partners, having already established their brand in Venice and Marina del Rey.
Brentwood is awash with Italian dining establishments. However, Adoteca stands out among them.
If you’ve ever enjoyed the nuances found in a thin slice of Parma Prosciutto or dusted your pasta with the fruity nuttiness of Parmegiano-Regiano, you have good reason to appreciate the city of Parma.
Chef Antonio, also a product of Parma, offers a third reason to be in awe of this food capital.
No matter how tempted you are to dip the fragrant focaccia in the dish of grassy olive oil don’t let yourself get carried away.
The portions at Adoteca aren’t huge – and if you’re looking for a trough of pasta this is not the place for you – however, they can be rich and are certainly filling.
On this particular visit, I lunched on the Chef’s Tasting Menu. The festa began with an antipasto of Carpaccio di Branzino ai Ricci di Mare.
Imagine transparent petals of sea bass, uni, scallions and micro basil drizzled in olive oil and lemon. It was light and fresh and inhaled within seconds.
The next dish was equally bella. Beads of aged balsamic reduction circled Fichi alla Griglia con Aragosta e Burrata.
Grilled fig topped with butter-poached lobster and melted Burrata is translation for heaven. It was served slightly warm with a sprinkling of Alea salt.
As luck would have it, I was just in time for truffle season. Chef Antonio presented a basket cradling three truffles the size of my fists.
Right before my very eyes he selected one from the basket and ceremoniously shaved transparent slices that fell like snowflakes to our bowls of awaiting pasta.
Tiny pillows of the best cheese-filled pasta I have eaten (forgive me Nonni) were soon blanketed in truffles. I smelled and tasted Italian terra.
I could have easily ended on that note, but Chef Antonio was unrelenting.
Another version of Branzino, this time grilled, was served atop various brassicas and a puddle of blood orange reduction.
The skin was perfectly crisp, the flesh tender.
The grand finale was a Napoleon with a crisscross of caramel and dusting of powdered sugar.
The crackling sound the fork made as it broke through the puff pastry was almost as satisfying as the pop of a cork.
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