It would be stretching the truth to say that Rome has an array of high-end, posh ristoranti serving cuisine of a kind that French Michelin Guide inspectors go ga-ga about. In fact, almost no one ever asks me recommendations for such restaurants, preferring instead to know what the best trattorias are in various parts of the city.  Of those I shall be writing about soon, but for now let me report on two ristoranti—both perched high above the Eternal City—with the kind of style and service that matches the superb food prepared by highly imaginative chefs whose work is like none others’ in Rome, in Italy, or in the rest of the world for that matter.

LA PERGOLA
Rome Cavalieri Hotel 
Via Alberto Cadlolo 101
011-39-06-3509-1
Romecavalieri.com

    Sprawling across the broad terrace floor of the Rome Cavalieri Hotel (about which I wrote recently), La Pergola is easily one of the most romantic restaurants in the world, purposely lighted that way and configured so that simply walking through it puts you in mind of all the sweeping American-in-Rome movies of the 1950s—“Three Coins in the Fountain,” “A Light in the Piazza ” (right),  “Roman Adventure,” “Roman Holiday”--as well as Fellini’s “La Dolce Vita.” 
       You wind your way through La Pergola, immediately stunned by the view, with Michelangelo’s dome of St. Peter’s Basilica shining white in the distance, and you notice the impeccably set tables are wide and well-spaced from one another; the handsomely dressed captains and waiters part the way as you walk toward your table (all have a grand view of Rome), and may point out the artwork that includes a rare Aubusson tapestry, Sèvres porcelain, an 18th Century bronze candelabra, imperial furniture and a fine collection of hand-blown glass by Emile Gallé.  Each day a florist makes his own art set into a 17th Century Celadron vase. Plates and silverware are vermeil-gilded.
    You are presented with warm breads that include the best focaccia you’ll ever taste as you peruse a wine list of astonishing breadth and depth—3,500 labels and 60,000 bottles, not only Italian wines but bottles from all over the world, all under the eagle eye of Marco Reitano, who has been awarded the title of “Greatest Sommelier in Italy.”  (Ask the maître d’ if you might visit the beehive-like cellar.) There is also a list of 29 types of regional bottled waters, even a selection of sea salts.
    Executive Chef Heinz Beck (above), who has been here since 1994 and who has, in fact, held three Michelin stars for years, is German, married to a Roman, and he combines his love of global cuisine with his passion for Italian.  There are some modernist tricks up his sleeve and a nod towards the molecular,  as evidenced by the number of well-out-of-the-ordinary kitchen appliances, like a unit that keeps different bread doughs at different, ideal temperatures before baking.
    His cooking always shows whimsy but is always backed by good taste. Every dish that comes to the table is the result of intense experimentation resolved only when perfected.  There are eccentricities, like making a powder from foie gras and crafting a dish called “Hole 18” to look like a golf course (below).  But what sounds odd becomes a revelation, like his cod on kidney beans with iced parsley snow; the idea of a “Composition” of John Dory, squid and prawns treated to a citrus fruit steam adds amazing flavors, each morsel of seafood individually cooked till tender.
    More traditional dishes, like rabbit tortellini (right) with an essence of peas and broad beans, outshine similar dishes anywhere else, as does the classic, very simple spaghetti cacio e pepe, commonly made with nothing more than cheese and pepper, which here takes on briny nuance from the addition of lime-marinated white shrimp.     A Mediterranean-inflected loin of lamb is crusted with fennel in a cereal crust, with goat’s cheese pearls. Desserts, as you might imagine, are final flourishes like cannelloni filled with salty pine nuts and Chantilly cream.
    Clearly, anyone seeking the pleasures of Roman food is likely to find Beck’s cuisine idiosyncratic, even strange.  But as you linger over coffee (dozens of varieties offered) and bon bons brought to you in a Sterling silver chest of drawers, finding yourself satisfied but not sated, you’ll look out again at the blue-black night sky of Rome and you’ll know just how unique your entire evening has been.

La Pergola offers a 10-course tasting menu at 230 euros, as well as à la carte. Dinner only.

IMÀGO
The Hassler Hotel
Piazza Trinità dei Monti, 6
+39 06 699340
Hotelhasslerroma.com

      As does La Pergola, Imàgo sits within a great hotel, The Hassler, from whose sixth floor you look out over a gorgeous panorama that takes in lighted sites like Santa Maria Maggiore, San Giovanni in Laterano, the Quirinale, Villa Colonna, the Campidoglio, the Victor Emmanuel II, Palazzo Venezia, Pantheon, the Trinità dei Monti Church and Spanish Steps,  and the Borghese gardens, with St. Peter’s glowing like a holy beacon in the moonlight.  The dining room epitomizes contemporary Roman elegance and has hosted every international movie star, potentate and magnate imaginable, including Jackie and John Kennedy back in 1963.
    You come off the elevator, see the glassed-in terrace across the room, with its inlaid marble floors, Doric columns, soft ceiling lights, antique vases, upholstered armchairs, tables topped with thick white linens and red roses or tulips, exquisite silverware and china, and in the center an effusion of flowers. Soft music sets a mood but never intrudes.
    Naples-born Head Chef Francesco Apreda creates menus in constant evolution—he’s held a Michelin star since 2009—grounded in Roman cuisine but boldly married to Asian flavors and cooking techniques, like octopus and seaweed with a spice he calls “uma-mia”—an Italian pun on the vague idea of umami. 
    The Hassler’s owner, Roberto Wirth, consulted on the Imperial Hotel Italian restaurant, Cicerone, in Tokyo, sending Apreda to work there before bringing him back to take over as Imàgo’s chef, and his fascination with Asian overtures returned with him.  Thus, even a classic Roman dish of penne all’arrabiata is melded with a Mumbai blend of spices. Soy vermicelli are graced with an amberjack sauce, while silky black cod is glazed with sake and served with purple vegetables. Tandoori-roasted duck breast comes dusted with cocoa powder, while rigatoni pasta adds shiso to a traditional pesto, as well as bacon and pecorino cheese mimicking a Roman carbonara. With a tip of his toque to London, foie gras comes with English scones and "sweet rain" (below).
    Given his birthplace, Apreda can be expected to revel in food from his home town but always with a twist, as in a Neapolitan sfogliatella “Samosa” style, green tea ice cream.  He even evokes a New York cheesecake, with a “Big Apple” sour blend.  There is also a difficult-to-resist selection of two dozen cheeses.
    Imàgo’s wine list is one of the finest in Rome, running to 51 pages and 1,100 labels, with 21 spumanti, dozens of Champagnes, a daunting array of the best Italian white wines, six vintages of Sassicaia, scores of Barbarescos and Barolos, and a good selection from the nearby Lazio vineyard.  You may have a pairing of six glasses with your dinner, arranged by sommelier Alessandro Crognale.
    Like his colleague Heinz Beck, Apreda is not making a cuisine intended for the traveler who is merely interested in Rome’s traditional culinary culture.  You have to open your mind to the way his works in an international style full of color, texture, contrasts and provocations, without straying over the line into fluttering sensationalism.
    Imàgo, in Italian, does not just mean “image.” It is more poetical, with connotations of singularity, and a reflection of all The Hassler and this extraordinary restaurant stand for in every detail.    

Imàgo offers two tasting menus at 130 euros and 150 euros and a vegetarian menu at 120 euros.  Dinner only.

    I had only the slightest reluctance about going to Rosemary and Vine, a charming new Mediterranean vegetarian restaurant in Rye, N.Y., but was immediately won over by the tantalizing items on the menu: gazpacho blanco, babaganoush, truffled fettuccine, and a great deal more I was ravenous to try.  My hesitancy was based on visits over the years to vegetarian restaurants where the owners’ philosophy was writ large and the food just wasn’t particularly tasty. (For my own philosophical reasons, which include disregarding ferocious, often vicious polemics, I avoid vegan restaurants entirely.)
    What is proudly proclaimed on a sign over the kitchen at Rosemary and Vine is that everything you will eat is made fresh, (exceptions are the thin, crispy Lebanese pita breads and the pastas), which is immediately evident when you taste the food of Consulting Chef Erica Wides as conceived by Lebanese-born proprietors Tania Rahal and Berj Yeretzian. He had left investment banking, of which the world needs less, to open his dream Mediterranean restaurant, which we need many more of; she was in event planning, so it was a natural leap.
    Both wanted to be rigorously true to their Mediterranean roots, and, after some tweaking in response to locals’ requests, the menu is now a panoply of well-known favorites and new dishes to be found only here. With nothing on the menu more than $22, you’re likely to share everything and take something home, as I certainly did with the potato kibbeh and bulgur layered with sautéed turmeric onions, toasted pinenuts and sauce with greens  ($18). 
    The space is a sun-lit shingled storefront with tall windows on the street and a couple of tables outside; the interior is bright with colors of cream contrasted with barn wood, brick and blackboards, with black and white tile floors beneath a pressed tin ceiling.  There is a communal table and an open kitchen that has a small counter bar holding the restaurant’s well-chosen wines, all of them available by the glass or bottle, stressing small batch Mediterranean wineries.
    It would be good form to use cloth rather than flimsy paper napkins.

    The problem for a carnivore at Rosemary and Vine is not finding something you want to eat but trying to decide among so many delectable options.  The use of nuts and spices, creaminess and cheese, crusts and other textures add measurably to the enjoyment of foods that might otherwise be one-dimensional. 
    Gazpacho blanco ($9) is a summery puree of cucumbers, grapes for sweetness, and almonds, garnished with fresh mint and labneh.  As you would expect, hummus ($8.50), in various forms, is a stand-out in a Lebanese restaurant, this one based on a family recipe of simmered chickpeas, sesame-rich tahini, garlic and lemon served with warm pita.  Grilled country bread is the bed for avocado, charmoula (a Moroccan pesto), chopped parsley, coriander, cumin, feta and mint ($8.50), which makes a good appetizer for two people.  The babaganoush ($9.50) has the requisite smokiness in eggplant that has been fire-roasted, blended with spices and garnished with bright red pomegranate seeds that crunch in the mouth, while the lovely, rosy mouhamara ($9.50) is a similarly smoky mash of red peppers, toasted walnuts, olive oil, pomegranate and the delightful addition of molasses.  A too-simple plate of roasted beets ($8), with more molasses and pomegranate, was bland.
    The pride of tradition about flatbreads (below) in the Middle East causes Tania to wince a little if you call them pizzas, though the offering here called “Ella" ($13), with ricotta, caramelized onions, baby arugula, evoo, parmesan and toasted pine nuts. might pass muster in Naples.
    Since every dish is meant to be shared, the main courses are generously proportioned, like the Turkish ragout of eggplant braised slowly with lentils, Anaheim peppers, and that apparent staple, pomegranate molasses, served atop tender quinoa ($15).  A hearty Moroccan tagine with chickpeas, zucchini, squash and savory spices ($16.5) gives off the evocative aroma of saffron, while a very good five-mushroom lasagna ($22) that incorporates mozzarella, ricotta, parmigiano and Comté cheeses along with cremini and porcini mushrooms in a rich béchamel is one the best dishes on a menu of stand-outs.
     So, too, the housemade truffled fettuccine ($20) is a vegetarian triumph of grilled asparagus, sweet corn, bitter radicchio and fresh basil with truffle butter (below)—a very colorful, lovely presentation of wholly complementary flavors.  The only disappointment was falafel ($15), whose little cakes of chickpeas and favas were dry, as, for some reason, they often are.
    Of course, they make the desserts here, and I recommend the almond rice pudding ($5.50) made with almond milk touched with cinnamon, or the dark chocolate pudding that uses Valrhona chocolate, coconut milk and toasted almonds.
    It is surprising to find Mediterranean food of this caliber anywhere in the U.S., and particularly in an affluent suburban town like Rye on a street lined with boutiques, a steak house, and an oyster bar. Indeed, much has been made by the media this year of the superb Mediterranean food at Shaya in New Orleans—an opinion I wholeheartedly share—but in every way I can think of Rosemary and Vine is as admirable, even without meat on the menu.  Everything is fresh, in concept, in ideas, in careful cooking, and in the way Tania and Berj, who live in Rye, greet their guests.

ROSEMARY AND VINE
29 Purchase St, Rye, NY
914-481-8660
rosemaryandvine.com

Open for lunch and dinner Mon.-Sat.

                                                                                                                          ❖❖❖

GAMBLE FAMILY WINERY
By John Mariani

    If you believed all the lyrical lingo on wine labels, you’d think that owning vineyards and making wine is some kind of idyllic life of dreamers and the gods who love them.  In fact, winemaking is a business, one guided as much by the vagaries of the market as by weather, and all the winsome blathering, best satirized in Evelyn Waugh’s Brideshead Revisited—“It is a little, shy wine like a gazelle ... dappled, in a tapestry meadow ... a necklace of pearls on a white neck”—cannot change the fact that wine begins down in the dirt and ends up being boxed and shipped out in a truck.
    One of the least prepossessing and therefore honest winery owners I’ve met  is Tom Gamble (above) of the Gamble Family Vineyards, whose name suggests just how much risk there is in being a small winery in California’s Napa Valley, whose huge, well-invested wineries like Robert Mondavi and Berenger have tremendous clout in buying land, grapes and supermarket space.
    “It’s difficult to get distribution,” Gamble, who has the easy, laid-back California swagger down pat, said over dinner in New York. “Thank God we have one thousand subscribers who buy 40 percent of our wines, and our biggest dollar gross is in selling our grapes to other wineries.” (In fact, Beringer leases a large chunk of Gamble’s properties.)
    Gamble is a third-generation farmer. Vineyard owners don’t often refer to themselves as farmers, though Tom has some cattle ranchers in his bloodline and, with 100 years of agriculture in Napa behind him, now owns 175 acres of prime estate vineyards from the most respected AVAs—Oakville, Mt. Veeder, Rutherford and Yountville, where grape-growing plots can sell for hundreds of thousands of dollars per acre, with few left to buy.
      “That’s one of the great things about being in this valley for a century,” he says. “You get to know the microclimates and the growers who always know of a little section of prime terroir no one else ever knew about.
    “Given this legacy, one does not continue farming for dispassionate reasons alone,” he says. “There are easier ways to make a living. So, taking the next step and putting my name on a bottle of wine does not come lightly. I didn’t know much about winemaking or wine sales, but I knew I had good land to work with.”
    Gamble Family Vineyards was flunded in 2005 and the winery built in in 2012 on land that holds the ancestral farmhouse, water tower, and barns, which Gamble and his wife, Colette, whose family and farmland have been in the valley since 1873, are committed to maintaining. Her brother, Morgan Conolly, did the design of the property’s new structures, which includes a tasting room (by invitation only).  Tom and Brit-born winemaker Jim Close (right) are, as you’d expect, also insistent that they follow sustainable agriculture; his winery and vineyards are certified Napa Green and Fish Friendly.  That’s in his blood, too. Tom’s mother, Mary Ann McGuire, was active in establishing1968’s Napa Valley Agricultural Preserve, an ordinance that protects vineyards and wineries from commercial development and ensures that the land is used strictly for agricultural purposes.
    Rather than follow the blockbuster style of many Napa Valley colleagues, Gamble  and Close hue more closely to the traditions of Bordeaux winemaking, whereby blending varietals and heeding the nuances of terroir produce distinctive wines without high alcohol levels.  In addition, they use both French and California grape clones they believe thrive best in one plot or another. They also want their  wines to age gracefully and take their time to mature.
    “We aim for vivacity, richness and lift,” said Gamble. “If there’s too much alcohol, or imbalance of tannin and acid, the wine won’t marry with food.”  When it came to marrying Gamble’s Sauvignon Blanc with peppery focaccia made at  Lincoln Ristorante that evening, the flavors were indeed highly complementary. The pepper perked up the taste of the wine and the wine imparted a tangy sweetness to the warm, olive oil-brushed bread.  Gamble also makes a beautiful series of well-structured Cabernet Sauvignons that echo some very fine Bordeaux while still showing the effects of California sun and soil.
    The naming of estates on Napa Valley wine labels is often a mixture of mysterious numbers and letters, but Gamble prefers them to have personal meaning tied to his family, so it’s no surprise to find names like “Homestead” and “Water Tower” referring to blocks.  Two wines are named after his parents, G. Thomas and MaryAnn.  It is, then, a little odd to find a vineyard named “Cairo,” which has no seeming relevance to Napa Valley.
    “Oh,” said Gamble, “That’s named for our beloved rescue dog. He’s gone but he lives on on the label.”
    I should have guessed. Spoken more like a farmer than a vintner.