Photo by Caitlin Abrams
Hyacinth
Hello! I have scrolled through every picture in my phone last year trying to figure out what was spectacularly delicious in 2018, and it was a lot. I can confidently report that I experienced various levels of divine, gustatory ecstasy at: Heyday, Kado No Mise, Rabbit Hole, Salty Tart, Octo Fishbar, Parlour, Ngon Bistro, Hai Hai, Meritage, Pearl and the Thief, St. Genevieve, Tilia, Mevyn, Burch Steak, Animales Barbecue, Grand Café, Monello, Terzo, Corner Table, In Bloom, Revival Smoked Meats, Colita, Popul Vuh, and Hyacinth. That's nearly two dozen restaurants, two dozen restaurants I'd argue that could hold their own against those in any city in America. The state of our restaurants is strong, Twin Cities—even though I may never forgive you for not loving Heyday and Rabbit Hole as much as they truly deserved to be loved, and so R.I.P. to those spectacular wonders.
In picking a dish of the year, however, I've been vacillating all day between the venison at In Bloom, or the cacio e pepe at Hyacinth. It's an interesting dilemma, not least because St. Paul has had a staggeringly strong year. Between the Keg & Case development and the energy around the north end of the farmer's market with Octo, Salty Tart, and Birch's Lowertown, we really have never had such a good, high-quality St. Paul year. (More St. Paul excellence: Brake Bread, Mucci's, St. Dinette, the HmongTown Market, Rose Street Patisserie on Snelling, and the Naughty Greek.) I finally have come down on the side of the cacio e pepe at Hyacinth, for reasons.
One reason: I've been at In Bloom a lot recently. Look for the review in the print magazine. (please subscribe, $10 a year is such a bargain!) and it's hard to know whether a restaurant is really significant until you've had some time to let the razzle-dazzle of a first-impression settle. The other reason: The more I think of the talent that is chef and owner Rikki Giambruno, the more I think that his exacting interest in and attention to detail really do set the stage for significant work yet to come.
The cacio e pepe, that classic Roman peppered pasta, really is the dish that makes this case most clearly. To make it, Giambruno gets a special peppercorn, from Zanzibar, toasts it in olive oil, adds the oil to Hope butter, adds more fresh Zanzibar pepper, and then fresh, buttery Spanish Arbequina olive oil, and a little more black pepper. That might sound like a lot of pepper, but it comes together as a sort of rainbow of black pepper, mainly warm, not hot, woven through a weft of richness (the butter and good oil) and simplicity (the pasta). It's such an artful and complex process harnessed to such a simple end, it reminds me of an artist's workshop where apprentices grind raw pigments to make paint—it's the labor in the little steps that no one could possibly think are worth it that make the masterpiece. And it is a masterpiece, warm and earthy, fragrant and simple, sensual and rustic. Stupendous.
It's one of those dishes that the more I think about it, the more significant it becomes. The word 'masterpiece' came into being because it was the work a craftsman presented to his art's guild to make the leap from journeyman to master. There's a painting I love at Mia, of a silversmith with his guild masterpiece. I love it because it shows such enormous regard and pride in craft. Masterpieces were also a protection for the average member of the public, if you ordered silver from any Joe with a storefront, who knows what you'll get, but if you order it from someone who already made a masterpiece you know they can make something great.
That's how I feel about Hyacinth's cacio e pepe today. True, I loved it when I reviewed the restaurant, and said so. But the more I think about that pasta, the more I think it was a masterpiece in the old sense of the word, as well as the contemporary one: An important announcement to the community, and so I am conveying the announcement to you.
790 Grand Ave., St. Paul, 651-478-1822, hyacinthstpaul.com
