Barberio Osteria, a new Italian place, has opened where, just six months ago, Ancora tragically shuttered after only seven months. I’d had high hopes for Ancora that were soon dashed, and this after the beloved Locanda (another Italian restaurant that had occupied the space for many years) closed at the beginning of the pandemic.
Barberio Osteria is a creation by the Nob Hill AltoVino restaurant team, helmed by Chef Nick Kelly and his wife and AltoVino wine director, Calli Martinez. Both Kelly and Martinez hail from the Financial District’s Barbacco (sadly, yet another recently dead Italian soldier) so, once again, hopes are high. Such culinary losses hurt our city to the bone.
Three of us convened at Barberio Osteria on a chilly Monday night, and found the place fairly empty. Having just undergone only a minor refresh from the Ancora makeover (in fact, I feel certain I recognized some of the tableware as hand-me-downs. No shame in that, however; the pieces were as beautiful then as they are now), the décor was still warm and inviting.
Crusty bread for the table came with a bowl of olive oil, orange juice/zest and muddled anchovy. Reminiscent of a citrusy bagna cauda, the starter provided an umami-ful welcome to the evening.
We started out with three small plates; first, a plate of prosciutto, marinated pears, and little bread pockets that looked rather like deflated croissants.
Gnocco fritto — fried dough from the Emilia region of Italy — came perched atop crispy, red-skinned pears over silky, pink prosciutto. The pears, unfortunately, did not taste like they were marinated in anything, and for me, the gnocchi were rather flavorless, lacking any depth of bready goodness. Also missing in action was any hint of the aged balsamico. The dish just seemed to be missing something to tie it all together.
Next, the ascolani.
Mio Dio! Plump and juicy fried green olives, implausibly stuffed with wine-braised oxtail, caramelized onions and rosemary, then showered in snowy parm emerged as luscious, briny meatballs. I’d come back for this dish alone, and a glass of whatever red Ms. Martinez has up her sleeve on her all-Italian list. I did order a glass of Calabrian ippolito rosso, whose intensity went very well with the tender orbs. My only sadness came later, when I requested a second glass that never came.
The last of our small plates was the house-made nduja:
Cured pork, delightfully blended into a slightly spicy, smoky, creamy spread, a Calabrian specialty. Served here cold in a jar (would have been better at room temperature), this was our favorite of the three small plates, and made newfound converts of my friends (who dubbed it the “N-Judah spread”!) Well-grilled bread, crunchy pickled onions, Calabrian chilies, and little Lonely Mountain Farm pickled peppers provided excellent textural contrast to the sublimity of the nduja.
For mains, we went with all primis, it being a good night for the comfort of pasta.
One of our trio ordered the tagliatelle di spinaci.
Stemple Creek Ranch braised pork belly ragu with fennel, porcini mushrooms, braised greens, sage, thyme, lemon, pork jus, porcini crema, and Parmigiano-reggiano. For such a host of ingredients, I found the flavors in this dish a bit muddy, and fairly indiscernible from each other. My friend, however, enjoyed it and ate every last morsel. The pasta itself had a good, toothy chew.
His wife had the caramelle.
Caramelle are pasta parcels made to look like wrapped candies, a stuffed-pasta shape thought to have originated in Northern Italy. In concept, these were lovely, filled with a puree of coal-roasted beets, ricotta, and lemon zest that shone enticingly through the thin pasta and looked just like a child’s handful of sweets, served over tender, braised cabbage. But the pasta knots were so al dente as to be inedible, at least to me; had it been mine, I might have sent the dish back. I also found it a tad too sweet overall. But, had the little “candies” been silky and delicate, melting into the caramelized cabbage, I wouldn’t have minded as much. My friend, however, said she liked them and cleaned her plate. So what do I know? A ciascuno il suo gusto!
My main was the pappardelle with a veal/beef/pork ragu.
Here was my tender pasta! Wide, slippery noodles, such a satisfying pasta texture, cooked perfectly in this dish. The ragu’s flavor was wonderful, meaty and rich, but unfortunately, some bites of the meat were actually tough, with that slightly wooden texture shredded beef can get when overcooked. Still, I felt mine was the best of all three primi, though I was disappointed that all of our mains suffered from some flaw.
For dessert, we shared two, an affogato:
Dramatically served in a bowl with a pour-over show, this was tasty but basic, somehow lacking in oomph. Perhaps the ice cream (gelato?) wasn’t quite rich enough.
And the panna cotta:
A robust yet silky texture, sprinkled with candied, crumbled pistachios, and tangy, supremed mandarin sections. A refreshingly light and sweet ending.
Service was a little uneven; our server never really came back to check on us after the pastas arrived and, as mentioned, someone was supposed to come take my order for a second glass of wine, but never did. Our runner/busser, however, was very attentive and warm. I’m hoping these are all growing pains, as I think they’d only been open a month and a half when we dined there.
And we didn’t even touch on the actual mains. I want to try the tonno e fagioli, and the marinated acciughe from the antipasti section, the bagna cauda in the stuzzichini (appetizer) section, and the secondi of salt-crusted black cod, duck confit, or the 35-ounce Fiorentina. After such a vibrant start to our evening with the appetizers and small plates, to then segue into the lackluster showing of the primi, I honestly wasn’t sure I’d come back. But I have high hopes that once they work out the kinks and get a few months under their belts, Barberio Osteria will become our new neighborhood go-to for Northern Italian cuisine. Here’s hoping.
Barberio Osteria
557 Valencia St.
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A couple of minor Italian errors: the plural of gnocco is gnocchi (not gnocci) and the term for apps (primi) is already plural so saying “primis” is a double plural, ergo redundant.
Thank you for this! Fixed! And I should have known that.
I really have to wonder what “secret sauce” they think they have to make their concept work where Locanda and Ancora could not. Charging 30% more than Locanda probably isn’t the answer. That being said, I’ll be checking out their wine, the njuda and the olives
It’s sad that good people who make such heroic efforts to create worthwhile amenities for San Franciscans face a city bureaucracy that does not care about them, as they are focused on enabling the devolution of our city. Progressives are wedded to their ideological straight jackets and have no capacity to contemplate unintended consequences, unless the destruction is actually their secret goal.