First Look: Piccolo Sogno

Some kids grow up dreaming of playing shortstop for the Cubs. Others harbor Hollywood dreams. Not Tony Priolo. He grew up dreaming about cooking.

You could say Priolo achieved his dream more than a decade ago, when he started at Coco Pazzo Cafe. But there, he met wine specialist Ciro Longobardo, and together, they started dreaming bigger. There would be another Italian restaurant, and it would be theirs.

Even after Priolo went on to become executive chef at Coco Pazzo, he and Longobardo kept dreaming. And when the space most recently occupied by John Bubala’s Timo (and before that, Thyme) became available, their dream had a home.

When it came time to name the spot, they chose Piccolo Sogno, Italian for "little dream." It would be very fitting—except that Piccolo Sogno is not all that piccolo.

At first, it seems this week-old River West spot will be grand in the way only Italy does grand. The first thing you notice are the shimmering glass chandeliers above the glossy marble bartop. But pass through the bar into the main dining room, and you’ll find a comfortable, terrazzo-floored space with soothing cobalt walls. From there, glass doors open onto a sprawling deck with ivy-covered walls. It’s easily one of the best alfresco dining spots in town, a step above the usual seasonal setup with its stylish wicker chairs and wood tables.

It’s all quite lovely—some might say dreamy—but Priolo seems more concerned with what’s on his tables than what they look like. Before opening Piccolo Sogno, he and Longobardo spent two weeks traveling through Italy, selecting the specialty ingredients for the restaurant. They searched far and wide before landing on just the right olive oil in Tavarnelle Val di Pesa, Tuscany, then had it bottled exclusively for Piccolo Sogno. A similar quest for 5-year-aged balsamic ended in Emilia-Romagna. The creamy burrata comes from Puglia by way of Piedmont. Even the flour is D.O.P. (Denominazione D’Origine Protetta) certified.

You’d expect the worldly ingredients to drive up prices, but Priolo keeps things relatively affordable. Entrees top out at $24; pastas run $13-$15, with appetizer portions for even less. Longobardo’s all-Italian wine list follows suit with more than a dozen bottles clocking in at $40 or less.

For the most part, Priolo does right by his carefully chosen ingredients. The hand-stuffed burrata is served as an antipasto course, surrounded by prosciutto and drizzled in olive oil ($13). The fancy D.O.P.-certified flour forms the dough—along with imported Italian water—for wood-fired pizzas. Even the locally sourced Green Acres Farm rapini is well cared for, cooked just enough to bring out a subtle nutty flavor.

Whether it’s liberal use of that Tuscan olive oil or something else, pastas are a highlight. Our ravioli di Piccolo Sogno (appetizer size $9, full portion $13), swimming in a buttery Marsala glaze with toasted pine nuts, disappeared quickly. Better still was our malfatti ai funghi misti (appetizer size $10, full portion $14), huge, golf ball-sized spinach and ricotta gnocchi tossed with rich mushrooms and herbs.

The kitchen puts its wood-burning oven and grill to work on dishes such as wood-grilled fish, served whole and de-boned tableside, and griglia mista ($14), a simple antipasto course of grilled shrimp, calamari and baby octopus with a hint of lemon juice.

Sometimes, the oven works a little too hard. One of our rosemary-marinated lamb T-bones ($24) was cooked to medium (a bit much for lamb); the other verged on well (too much for lamb). Our porchetta alla Romana ($21), a Roman-style preparation of suckling pig marinated for three days in fennel, garlic, olive oil and sea salt, then slow-roasted and finished with beer to crisp the skin, also came out a little dry.

But we had no problem forgiving any opening-week kitchen kinks once our stainless steel coppetta of chocolate and white chocolate gelato ($8) arrived. The dense, silky stuff was so good we almost asked if they’d pack up a pint for us to take home. Hey, a kid can dream, right?

M. Kathleen Pratt is the Metromix dining producer. kpratt@tribune.com

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