East End Eats: Scarpetta Beach

Scarpetta Beach

290 Old Montauk Highway

Montauk

631-668-1771

Open for Dinner

Tuesday through Sunday

New York City, Las Vegas, Miami — and now, Montauk! The upscale, Italian, fine-dining establishment Scarpetta has arrived at Gurney’s Montauk Resort and Seawater Spa, courtesy of LDV Hospitality. That LDV stands for “la dolce vita,” and who doesn’t like that?

Scarpetta Beach, as this outpost is called, will only be here for the summer of 2015, but it is a welcome and delightful change from last year’s whatever-it-was-called restaurant. Last year’s renovation has been re-renovated and this, too, is a great improvement. Some of the walls have barn-board paneling, sleek sconces, and several beautiful woven rope sculptures, which are apparently a Scarpetta signature design element but seem particularly appropriate by the sea. The atmosphere is light, airy, and modern. The view, of course, needed no renovation.

Upon our arrival we were greeted by a lovely and cheerful hostess, which is always a good sign. To begin, we were served a basket of excellent bread and a few slices of stromboli, one filled with provolone and salumi, the other with broccoli rabe. Along with this was a little dish with three compartments, one containing a quenelle of mascarpone butter spread, another with citrusy olive oil, and the third with a savory caponata. All delicious, and fresh as a daisy.

For appetizers, or primi piatti, we tried the creamy polenta, market salad, and fluke crudo. The serving of various dishes is executed with much fanfare. The polenta arrived in two dishes with lids, upon a napkin-lined platter. A young server removed the lids and helpfully started to spoon the mushroom fricassee onto the polenta, spilling a good bit as he did. (They also have a rather elaborate method of angling a napkin around the water pitcher before they pour so the water doesn’t splash you, although it still manages to splash upon the table as they pour.) Get some pitchers designed to pour down, duh.

The polenta was quite refined, creamy and rich with butter and perhaps mascarpone. The mushrooms were in a meaty demi-glace with just a whisper of truffle oil. The market salad was exquisite, delicate, and colorful. Most of the vegetables had been sliced on a mandolin, so they were paper-thin ribbons of zucchini, asparagus, radishes, beets, yellow squash, a few sprouts of arugula, and some dollops of truffled ricotta cheese.

The fluke crudo, four small slices topped with a lemony sunchoke dressing and some arugula microgreens, was a bit puny portion-wise, but delicious nonetheless. Somebody in the kitchen got a little too enthusiastic with the black Hawaiian sea salt garnish, but this did not deter too much from the delicacy of the mild fish.

For entrees we ordered the halibut en croute, spaghetti with tomato and basil, short rib agnolotti, and a side order of crispy vegetables. We’re not sure why the halibut was described as “en croute,” which means it would have been wrapped and baked in a pastry, but it was slightly crisp on one side. It was served with braised leeks and endive and had a nice vinegary caper sauce. I had ordered the simple spaghetti dish because sometimes this is a good indication of how much attention is paid to the simple dishes. This version was quite nice, the spaghetti made in-house (as are all the pastas at Scarpetta), a bit chewy and lacking uniformity, almost rustic compared to the other dishes. The strands were twirled into a nice little bundle, and it was lightly sauced, the way it’s done in Italy.

The agnolotti were truly beautiful and delicious, tiny pasta pockets filled with rich short ribs and bone marrow, with a hint of sweetness. A crunchy layer of fried garlic chips gave them texture and a sharp contrast to the decadence of the filling. A grating of fresh horseradish and plenty of chopped parsley throughout enhanced the whole.

The crispy vegetables were excellent, fried in a salty batter, not greasy at all, and paper-thin. There were bits of zucchini and potato, fried lemon slices, flat-leaf parsley, sage leaves, and rosemary.

The service on the night of our visit was very good. Our waiter knew the menu well even though Scarpetta Beach has only been open a few weeks. He does get one strike, however, for responding to the question, “Are the desserts made in-house?” with “Uh-huh.” Sorry — for these prices, the quality of the food, and the fanfare of every dish coming out under a ceramic dome, “yes” would have been a more polite response.

All of the staff were friendly, and the manager that evening was making the rounds to all of the tables, making sure all was well.

Scarpetta is expensive. First courses are $16 to $19, pastas are $24 to $32, entrees $28 to $49, and desserts are $12. There is a whole page dedicated to vegetarian dishes (with the option of being prepared vegan), which we found impressive.

We were quite full, so we only sampled two desserts. They were truly outstanding. One was a limoncello semifreddo. Semifreddo is a bit like half-frozen ice cream, usually a mix of whipped cream, whipped egg whites, and flavorings. This version was super-rich and not as airy as some, but it was intensely lemony. There was a thin layer of a citrus gelée on top, along with a delicate pistachio tuile, some finely diced and macerated strawberries, and a few blackberries. A dark, dainty scoop of blackberry basil sorbet was superb with the lemon flavors. The only dissonant notes to the dish were two blobs of pistachio cake set on top and on the side. This brought to mind Coco Chanel’s admonition to “always take one thing off before you leave the house.”

The second dessert, which was also insanely good, was the espresso budino. Budino is like a pudding or custard. It was served layered in an old fashioned glass, with the espresso budino on the bottom, layers of crumbled chocolate biscotti, salted caramel sauce, and hazelnut gelato. Little Miss Bossypants here made her guests try each layer individually to get the true essence of the flavors. The genius part was that the espresso layer was highly caffeinated but barely sweetened. Combined with the sweeter sauce, cool nutty gelato, and crisp crumbs, it was just heavenly.

When we complimented our waiter and the manager on the biscotti, they brought us a few more; these were different, lightly spiced with a bit of cinnamon or allspice and faint heat from pepper.

Translated, “scarpetta” means “little shoe,” but is also a word to describe your last bit of bread used to scoop up the last bits of deliciousness on your plate. This place lives up to its name.