La Stanza del Gusto

Mario Avallone was an enthusiastic gourmet who had the immense fortune of not knowing how or being able to say no to the irresistible vocation that tempted him belatedly to become an innovative restaurateur. He is one and the same ideologue who has dedicated himself to modernizing the culinary history of Campania without altering its essence. He takes his inspiration from the land’s recipes and products, and then projects them to transform them into valid and acceptable haute cuisine. There are no noticeable leaps of faith, nor do such moves tempt anyone here—among other reasons, because they are very conscious that as much as one would like the region’s tastes to evolve, these are profoundly defined: there is a patent tendency toward majestic, concentrated flavors. It is not in vain that this population and city have primary culinary manners—they are ancestral and relatively enclosed on their own identity.

Mario has arrived late to the profession, and this is evident in certain weaknesses, such as professional firmness, theory and practice, which develop over years of routine. His work, though obviously modern in scope, is more so in intention and form than it is truly ground-breaking. For instance, the vegetables—chicory and Swiss chard—with pieces of fresh pancetta swimming in their broth, adorned with fresh cheese, suffer from a conventional preparation that alters their color, texture and flavor; but it does not prevent the whole from being very satisfying. The spaghetti Bolognese with pork loin and entrails boasts impeccable al dente cooking and a succulent refrito (olive oil and sautéed garlic), but it occasionally burns the palate; spiciness is not modernity, but rather a step backward. These are two examples that should be revised for not adhering to modern sensibilities. Modernity can be found, however, in a lucubration created from an ancestral Neapolitan snack: cicoli and ricotta—a pork roll hiding cheese in its center—adorned with a beautiful and triumphant lentil flour crisp dusted with black pepper. The variety of cod dishes is superb: in a delicate cream served in a glass, exceptionally battered in chunks, and in an iridescent, juicy and gelatinous loin sprinkled with ground red pepper. Another dish contributing to the success of the restaurant is the lacquered pork filet—exceptionally buttery and flavorful.

The city’s most interesting table from a sybaritic perspective, and one that we must visit to momentarily escape the pizzas at L’Antica Pizzeria da Michele, at 1 Via Cesare Sersale, and at Antica Pizzeria di Matteo at 94 Via Tribunali.