Not much, as it turns out.
First, the setting. Scusi is in Heartland's old home on St. Clair in St. Paul. Other than being directly across from a Super America, it's a perfectly lovely neighborhood spot. The inside has been reinvented to resemble an Italian country bistro of sorts, with blue and white checkered table cloths and rich wood paneling on the walls. There is the ubiquitous open kitchen, nicely countering the tightness of the table spacing. I assume they were going for that European feel-like-you-are-sitting-in-your-neighbor's-lap vibe, but I worry how well that will go over in our personal space sensitive culture.
To say the place was boisterous is a bit of an understatement, and the bizarre choice in decidedly un-Italian music and a weird movie playing on several screens over people's heads didn't help. But then again, they are not trying to be La Grolla. Groups of women clinking wine glasses and two large groups of hipsters on a Friday night group date dominated the space, with a few couples struggling to hear each other thrown in.
While this is not exactly a "theme" restaurant, the creative team clearly had an idea in mind (insert mental image of a group of scruffy entrepreneurs drinking local, seasonal beers and throwing random ideas around until one sticks.) What Scusi seems to be going for, and has trained their staff well to convey to us, is a refined Bucca. Our plates, while regular entree sized, are meant to be shared, explained our server Randall, or Robert, or Ricky, I couldn't hear. They come out of the kitchen as they are ready instead of waiting for each other under a heat lamp and we are just to dig in and share them as they appear. I am not sure why this needed an explanation.
We began with an assortment off the salumeria portion of the menu. We chose a cheese, a meat, and a choice of olives, which arrived on a rustic cutting board with roasted garlic in a tiny pool of olive oil. There were only four slices of bread with which to enjoy this assortment, but luckily a server also placed what seemed to be a doggie bag and a crock of white bean dip on our table. Inside the doggie bag was rosemary flat bread, which we smeared with the garlic and topped with prosciutto and brie. Our choices were not exactly adventurous, but it was a very nice start to our meal.
For dinner, we chose lamb pappardelle and shrimp ravioli to share (because if nothing else, we are good at following directions.) The lamb dish, while largely lacking in said slow cooked lamb, had a subtle Mediterranean flavor, with sweet carrots and golden raisins in a lamb ragout. The pappardelle noodles were perfectly cooked, fat and satisfying. It was exactly what the doctor ordered (I had a cold, you see.)
Although I had originally ordered the shrimp ravioli, we switched plates after a small taste of each. The robust vodka sauce on the ravioli was the highlight of the evening, but the texture of the shrimp did not work with the delicate ravioli pasta. I should mention that the pasta at Scusi is home-made, so it is a bit more chewy than most Americans might be used to. But give it a chance, it is delightful.
We declined desserts, partly because I am staying away from sugar until Thanksgiving, and partly because we had tired of the noise. But the cake placed on the table next to us looked divine, so I would recommend trying something dolce if you decide to visit Scusi.
All in all, it was a good attempt at homey, rustic Italian cuisine. While the menu selections were innovative and promising, something was lost in the execution.
Italian food does not photograph well. You'll see what I mean below.
Our salumi selection.
Lamb pappardelle.
Shrimp ravioli.
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