Never before have I walked away from a meal so disappointed. My girlfriend and I had been looking forward to going to Etto since before the place even opened. It's owned by the people behind 2Amy's and Standard (or whatever it's called now), and the head chef formerly worked at Obelisk. Its pedigree couldn't be any better, and they even make their pizza flour in house. Yet somehow, Etto managed to fall flat.
But I'll start with the good: the hostess was friendly, as were the servers, who were also attentive, though bar service was a little bit slow. After putting our name down for a table, the hostess dropped by the bar (where we were standing) a few times to give us an update on the wait. Once our table was ready, our bar tab was seamlessly transferred to it without the problems that seem to beguile many other restaurants.
We started with a mixed plate of three charcuterie: the wild boar salami, calabrian salami, and mangalista ham. All three were excellent, and while the price ($18) was steep, we thought the portions were fair. But this is where things started to go downhill. We would've loved to have had a good, hard Italian cheese like pecorino or asiago to order with the salami, yet for some strange reason, the only options on the menu were burrata, ricotta, and mozzarella, none of which would've stood up to the saltiness and spiciness of the salami. It was as if they threw the cheeses on there because Italian places should always have cheese on the menu, but didn't give a thought to what people might actually want to order based on what else was on the menu.
When we turned to ordering a few pizzas, we grew increasingly exasperated. There were only four red pies on the menu, a marinara, a margherita, and two anchovy pies that were very similar. Now, I love anchovies, but many people don't and it's not something that I'm always in the mood for, so I would've liked to have seen a little more variety in the pizzas. Luckily I was in an anchovy mood, so we ended up ordering a red anchovy/capers/onion pie and one white pie with rappini and mozzarella.
The pizzas came out about fifteen minutes later. The red pie was adorned with four giant globs of mozzarella, each measuring about 1 inch by 4 inches. Half the slices were effectively cheeseless, while the others foundered under the weight and globiness of those massive hunks of thick cheese. It is beyond me why Etto doesn't cut up its cheese into more manageable hunks to be scattered around the pizza, as in the case with most neapolitan restaurants. Turning to the white pizza, our tastebuds were overwhelmed by the bitterness of the rappini, and we could barely even taste the sausage.
Perhaps the biggest tragedy of the night was the crust. I had read other reviews in which people had complained about the burnt crust, but being a bit (ok, very) pretentious when it comes to pizza, I assumed that these people simply had no idea that neapolitan pizza should have some char ("leopard spotting" in pizza parlance). Yet they were right: portions of the crust were downright burnt and inedible. The "tragedy" lay in the fact that the properly cooked parts of the crust were absolutely delicious. They're either running the oven too hot or keeping the pies in there too long, but the fact that they haven't attempted to address this issue is astonishing to me.
We somewhat begrudgingly finished most of our pizza, and finding ourselves lacking even the desire to scoop up every last crumb, chose to skip dessert. Our bill - which included the charcuterie plate, two pizzas, and a few drinks apiece - came to a staggering $120 (including tax and tip). I was flabbergasted that such a mediocre meal, one of simple pizza, of all things, could cost so much. Unless Etto begins paying more attention to detail and putting some more thought into their menu, I have no intention of returning. read more