I corresponded with a reader recently about my approach to these columns.
Our dialogue was prompted by his initial suggestion that I need to bring out the fangs a bit more often because he has never seen me say that I categorically hate a restaurant or use the word “awful” in association with any dining experience over my three years of contributed writing for the North Shore News.
I think this idea comes from a common conception of restaurant criticism informed by the popular cultural tropes that attend it. People think of a critic as a special sort of elitist, versed enough in the mechanics of operating a restaurant to point out minute flaws that others might overlook and equipped with an acerbic wit of sufficient potency to reduce a truly substandard business to rubble with his pointed words should the inclination strike him.
Critics issue dry, sardonic comments like “Chef Doe has inflicted upon the unwitting diner his 2016 Autumn Menu, an abomination of such dire magnitude as to prompt one to suggest it be renamed the Fall Menu, foreshadowing the swift and inevitable fall from grace that will surely ensue once others experience this unforgivable affront to good taste.”
There is a perverse cultural fascination with vitriolic criticism. It is darkly engaging entertainment and perhaps gives the reader a sense of cathartic schadenfreude, a reward for all those times he or she wished that scathing, tongue-in-cheek retort hadn’t been conceived hours later, well past the heat of the moment in which it would have afforded the upper hand.
Alas, I am not a critic. I am a reviewer.
My job is not to seek faults at all costs but rather to report on my experiences. If something avoidable falls short during my experience, I will invariably report it. If things mostly go well, you will read about that too.
The guiding principle I employ is that a restaurant ought to be evaluated on the basis of its effective provision of the sort of experience it sets out to offer. For example, does that neighbourhood pho spot with eight menu items and as many seats, with no dish priced over $9, seek to become the North Shore’s finest eatery, collecting dining awards and topping international lists of excellence? I doubt it. So it would be unfair to fault the place for not pursuing this course.
And so it is that I offer to you now my impressions of Presto Cucina, a unique casual Italian eatery that shares a neighbourhood with some of the North Shore’s heaviest hitters in the Italian category, restaurants that cite the same broad regional influence as Presto but produce fare that is worlds apart.
Presto Cucina straddles the line between traditional bistro (in the original sense of the term, which implies simple, well-made food served quickly and at reasonable prices) and well-made fast food. Diners order their meals at the till from a small, simple menu displayed above. Fare includes a handful of appetizers (minestrone soup, salads, bruschetta), pizzas, pastas, value-minded red and white wines, beer, soft drinks and three pre-fab desserts.
Large pizzas hover around the $30 mark, which may sound pricey until you get a load of the size of them. I sat agog as I watched a neighbouring table, occupied by a family of three, receive their meal, a positively enormous, sprawling pie that quite literally covered the entire table top.
I don’t know how far that family got with their dinner, but I suspect a second meal’s worth of the pizza went home with them.
Along for my visit to Presto were my wife DJ and three kids; we were fresh from swimming in the waves and playing on the beach at Dundarave. We were feeling sun-baked and lazy, so a nearby joint serving family friendly fare felt like it fit the bill.
We all ordered pasta. The two older kids opted for spaghetti and meatballs from the children’s menu. Their meals, well priced at just $8, were decently portioned, featuring a dense, meaty Bolognese and about three meatballs each.
DJ and I shared an appetizer of bruschetta, thin rectangles of chewy, baked bread topped with a very simple mixture of fresh tomatoes, purple onions, and basil, all drizzled with balsamic and olive oil. Unable to steer away from pizza-ish things entirely, we ordered a second appetizer of bread sticks (basically sliced, baked pizza dough) with marinara sauce as a share plate for the table.
The marinara, which also featured in my main of Penne Rustica with Italian sausage, olives, red onions, and feta, was thick with chunky bits of fresh tomato and had a subtle fragrant flavour of basil and garlic. On my pasta, the sauce paired nicely with the basil-enhanced sausages and the sprinkling of salty, briny feta.
DJ’s meal of Baked Cannelloni was the standout, however, with its rich and creamy ricotta filling and golden mozzarella melted overtop.
If Presto seeks to deliver casual, straightforward but well-prepared, Italian-inspired, family-friendly fare, I would suggest it is doing its job effectively.
Note that pasta for kids (under 10) is free with the purchase of an adult entree from noon to 4 p.m. on Saturdays and Sundays.
Our meal for four was $80, including soft drinks for the kids and a modest glass of wine each for DJ and me.
Presto Cucina is located at 1746 Marine Dr. in West Vancouver. prestocucina.wordpress.com 604-925-2229
Chris Dagenais served as a manager for several restaurants downtown and on the North Shore. A self-described wine fanatic, he earned his sommelier diploma in 2001. He can be reached via email at [email protected]. North Shore News dining reviews are conducted anonymously and all meals are paid for by the newspaper.
