Trentina
POP IDOL
I can’t begin to tell you how excited I’ve been waiting for this to land. A fresh pasta and small plates restaurant is just what Birmingham needs right now; it’s the meteor sized crater in our culinary landscape. And given it’s from the people behind Tiger Bites Pig my expectations are cranked up a notch higher.
Back in 2016, Padella opened in London with the concept of stripping back Italian menus to just 4-6 antipasti, 6 pasta dishes and a couple of desserts. Whilst the thrust of this was doing away with the ‘main course’ it also meant elevating fresh pasta into the spotlight, whilst showing us the true Italian ways with pasta sauces, not least with freshness, seasonality and provenance at their heart. The similarly stripped back drinks menu starring negronis, spritz, amari, grappas and a short, well curated Italian wine list merely sealed the deal.
As with all innovations and success stories, there came the imitators—as you’d expect some poor—but many excellent, including Flour & Grape, Bancone, Officina 00, Ombra, and even the rapidly expanding Lina Stores, although that may yet be the death of them. The list goes on, but they all serve fresh pasta, artisanal, traditional, authentic and all made in house. And finally, eight years on, it seems like we now have Birmingham’s own version, Trentina.
A quick glance at the menu of four starters, six pasta dishes and two desserts with a smattering of ingredients alla moda, is as stirring as hearing Pavarotti’s Nessun Dorma. First, the drinks and my head is turned one way by the sgoppino, then the other by the negroni, but we eventually settle on the Venetian spritz with the promise of a non-Aperol aperitivo in the mix. Our faith is rewarded with quite possibly my favourite spritz ever, with heightened floral sassiness alongside sublime amaro bitterness.
Venetian spritz
If I wasn’t excited enough already, I order a Gavi di Gavi. It’s the most expensive of the three whites on offer at £37 a bottle and it’s a stunner... dry, fresh with hints of pear and it’s floral on the nose.
The waitress starts explaining the ‘mystery’ of the menu “you’ve probably had burrata, but straciatella—perfectly pronounced it must be said—is like the...” But we stop her there and she recoils offended, like she’d just learned all the words of a new song and we’ve denied her the opportunity to sing it to us.
Unfortunately, there’s no fennel and grape salad so we opt for three pasta dishes between us. I’m pushing for a fourth but the waitress tells us most couples have three between them. Besides, I’m thinking we can always order an extra one when we’re done.
And then out of nowhere we get a red flag, warning us that things are not as they should be. The rosemary and sea salt focaccia, lacks rosemary (which I can live with) and more worryingly not even a greasy fingered hint of oil, although it’s nothing compared to the fact it has the spring and crust of supermarket sliced white bread… in fact, if Warburton’s did focaccia this would be it.
Rosemary & salt foccacia
The pastas land and I’m first onto the orecchiette friarielli as it’s called in Naples AKA cime di rapa in Puglia and broccoletti in Rome. It’s sitting in a puddle of oil that would have Doctor Foster worried, with strands of leafy, mustardy friarielli sauteed in garlic and chilli and this looks the part, but it’s way over salted. Although that’s insignificant compared to the too uniform discs of pasta that I refuse to believe have been made fresh in the kitchen or even by hand. By now, I’m realising the foccacia wasn’t so much a red flag, it was more like the rumblings of Vesuvius for the poor inhabitants of Pompeii on that fatal day in 79AD.
Orecchiette friarielli
But, as criminality goes when it comes to a pasta specialist restaurant, tagliatelle out the packet is right up there. If you’ve got fresh pasta in the kitchen—surely they do as there’s pappardelle on the menu—it beggars belief they’ve not gone those extra few centimetres. There’s far too much bite on the pasta for this to be fresh and whilst the cacio e pepe sauce is satisfactory, as a restaurant dish it’s poor.
Cacio e pepe
Never mind, there’s one to go and hope runs eternal. I’ve got half the parmesan topped, square of spinach pasta raviolo to tuck into, with its perfectly cooked golden duck egg yolk already run into its buttery sauce. Finally, I’m nodding contently, but two bites in I’m struck by the sense of there’s something not firing up my taste buds as expected. On close inspection I’m unsure if there’s just one streak or two of wilted spinach in the ricotta filling. It’s precisely the hit of tangy, grassy spinach that the rich, creaminess of yolk, the mild, freshness of ricotta and the buttery sauce is screaming out for.
Spinach, ricotta & duck egg yolk raviolo
Even if full, I’d fully expected to go in for a fourth pasta, but not now and whilst there is tiramisú for dessert, for probably for the first time ever, I’m not remotely tempted. Our bill is £88.55 inc. service charge.
It's early days and I can only hope—expect—they will get better. But, right now, this is a gossamer thin imitation of what’s happening in London’s fresh pasta world; much like a pop idol wannabe attempting opera.
5/10
33 Mary St, Jewellery Quarter, Birmingham B3 1UD
