A Mano

Photo: Marzena Abrahamik

Our poor waitress was shaking like a leaf, a manager was pouring water, the owner himself was delivering the wine we ordered, and chef John Caputo was peering through the open kitchen at our table, averting his gaze when our eyes locked. So somebody must have spotted me as a critic. They did the same with Reader critic Mike Sula, who happened to be dining at A Mano, the new Italian restaurant from the BIN 36 team, on the same night as my second visit. I wanted to tell the waitress to relax, that I’d already been in once, had a really good meal, and that so far, there was a four-star review in the bag. But I would have spoken too soon.

Recognition made no impact on that night’s execution, as the second visit was a bit disappointing. This time around, the ribollita (“fried soup”) that earlier had been a moist, savory cake of minestrone-soaked bread cubes topped with a fried egg was a bit dry, like stuffing with not enough stock. The meaty monkfish was overcooked and chewy. And while the words braised veal shoulder conjure up a juicy hunk of tender meat falling apart with each poke of the fork, this one arrived remarkably tough, with the only bit of jus on the plate soaked up by the ho-hum lentils.

That’s not to say that take two was a failure. In fact, a few dishes were outright successes, as good as the standouts from the first dinner. The raw hamachi and day boat scallop on the crudo plates were silky and snappy, with acidic elements for balance: citrus segments for the hamachi, spiced grapes for the scallops. The pumpkin ravioli in brown butter stepped out of boring land with black walnuts, brussels sprout leaves and shards of pecorino, while a raisiny ragù of wild boar was perfectly paired with yellowish, eggy, toothsome strands of pappardelle. Both pastas are made in-house, and while the salumi aren’t (an impossibility given city-enforced codes), you have to give A Mano credit for sourcing from great suppliers, including the  line of Salumi Artisan Cured Meats from Seattle’s Armandino Batali.

I’m told the BIN team had some extensive travels to Italy to research gelato and pizza. In Chicago, it nails the gelato, but misses the mark on the pizza. The sauce is tasty, the toppings are flavorful, but the wood-burning oven that perfumes the dining room (a sprawling space directly below BIN 36) just can’t seem to turn that pliant, chewy crust into magic. In contrast, texture is the backbone of the gelato, which is consistently fresh, dense and packing pure flavor, whether pistachio, ginger snap or pumpkin. I was really looking forward to showing off pastry chef Matt Kelly’s ricotta-robiola cheesecake to my dinner companion, as it was the star of the show my first meal. But the server “took the liberty” of bringing out a gelato tasting, proving that while it’s not good at hiding what it knows, the A Mano crew is good at showing off what it does best.