Impromptu Nostrana

Mr. B e-mailed for a lunchtime rendezvous, and I got giddy like a schoolgirl. Twelve years and a ringed finger haven't gotten in the way; we giggled (yes, Mr. B, you giggle) in the parking lot about how illicit it felt to meet midday! Destination: Nostrana.

It was all over the grapevine for months - Cathy Whims was opening a new place, she was gonna do pizza, it was gonna finally fill one of those oddly empty spots in the renovated building at SE 15th and Morrison. So she did, and she does, and it's amazing how the space has utterly left behind its past as a Su-Bee grocery. Ultra-high ceilings, dark cork floors, massive sliding windows - nothing pretentious whatsoever (plastic chairs), but an easygoing classiness and that inevitably cozy feeling that comes from a woodburning oven.

So we ordered hot drinks and food to share, and have this to report:

The antipasti misti were weird - greens marmalade that would have been better warm and needed salt; roasted peppers with marjoram that just weren't special in any way; fried pumpkin that was delicious, but again, would have been much better served hot. The "irresistable crostini" were just that - irresistable - but for the price of the plate, those three little crostini didn't quite cut it. Next time, I'll try the white bean and olive oil-poached tuna salad over greens.

There'd been talk that the pizzas might rival Apizza Scholls, but I can firmly report that they do not. It's not really a fair comparison, because they aren't really the same sort of pies. They reminded me a whole lot of the pizzas I ate while studying art history in Italy. Super thin, lovingly made, so thin and stretchy it's better to tear off chunks than attack it with a knife for slices. There will be Nostrana pizza moods, and Apizza pizza moods, and never the twain shall meet. For the record, Apizza pizza makes my eyes roll back in my head and sends endorphins shooting through my brain. It's that kind of good. Nostrana pizza: yummy lunch. That's just fine. Sometimes you want a martini, sometimes you want a microbrew.

Now, for the kicker: Nancy's Yogurt Panna Cotta with Blackberry Syrup. Ohmigod. Ohmigod. I must puzzle out how to make this. Now that my tastebuds have undergone this epiphany, I suspect American panna cotta is often made solely with cream. Some quick research tells me that panna cotta is a Piedmontese speciality, where the local cream has a faint sourness, like creme fraiche. Yogurt, then, makes perfect sense. This dessert had a brilliant whisper of tartness, the most pristine white color, and the light, smooth texture ... Praise jesus.*

Our server was a little spaced out, the cappucino took forever, and it was really irritating to watch three employees gabbing casually with friends - who seemed to have stopped by to say hi, not to eat - at various spots around the bar. C'mon people, give me a little mystique. This isn't your living room. But otherwise, a great neighborhood spot with a menu that will pull me right back in the door.

What an excellent way to spend a workday lunch hour. Mr. B is so easy on the eyes ... sigh.

*I've long considered getting a yogurt maker, the kind that actually heats the milk ... this would be a perfect reason.