SOMEONE SHOULD GIVE Duke Moscrip an award for stamina. Ordinary restaurateuring requires that and then some; Moscrip, who has just opened his 11th Seattle-area restaurant (four are currently operating), has persevered undaunted through 22 years of changing appetites, risky experiments, and crashing failures. With the opening of the original Duke’s Queen Anne in 1977, the man virtually invented the singles bar in this town, establishing the template that would later define success for a whole gaggle of South Lake Union restaurants. Moscrip would own two of those: One, the Chowderhouse, is still printing money serving fried food to beautiful people, both there and at Green Lake. Five times the size and just up the shore stood a sister Duke’s that never gained a foothold; Moscrip turned it into a fancy Asian-fusion joint called the Bambu Grill, and it tanked grandly after just four months.
La Palina, Duke’s Italian Kitchen
236 First W, 283-4400
Mon-Thu 11:30-10, Fri 11:30-11, Sat 5-11, Sun 5-10, abbreviated late-night menu every night until 1am
AE, DC, MC, V; full bar
In short, what Moscrip does best are waterside restaurants with limited culinary pretensions, Lake Bellevue to Lake Union to Green Lake. It’s when he ventures inland (remember his restaurant trade with Carmine Smeraldo to put a chowderhouse in Pioneer Square?) or upscale that his reach begins to exceed his grasp.
Which brings us to the inland, upscale La Palina. A remake of the original Duke’s Queen Anne, which Moscrip admits had been on life support in recent years, La Palina represents the restaurateur’s long-emerging desire to go Italian and his reverence for a chef he’d been admiring for years, Dino D’Aquila. D’Aquila virtually grew up in the kitchen of Il Bistro while his father, Frank, established its fine reputation, then took over the toque there in 1990. One Belltown Billiards stint later, D’Aquila accepted Moscrip’s offer to open La Palina in November 1998, and wrote a menu strongly reminiscent of Il Bistro’s glory days.
Indeed, walking into La Palina is vaguely reminiscent of Il Bistro’s glory days. Not that the remodeled Duke’s approaches the backstreet charm of the Pike Place Market classic, but its sexy amber glow and crisp-white-tablecloth formality strike similar chords. Successfully excised—in the dining room, at least—is Duke’s ’70s fern-bar ambiance. (The bar, bizarrely illumined by hanging red globes, still screams 1978. So did the music on one of our visits, a vexing blend of easy listening and smooth jazz. Let it die, Duke!)
The dinner menu begins with three salads; so did we. Best was the Caesar ($5), long spears of crunchy romaine smoothly and nobly dressed in D’Aquila’s old anchovy-heavy family recipe. The “balsamic and blue” salad ($5)—bibb lettuce with threadlike onion rings and blue cheese—had spunky flavors but, in the words of the computer geek at the table, “bad user interface.” The greens were so large it was impossible to eat without drenching your face. The insalata al formaggio ($5) had similarly bad UI, with its “crumbled goat cheese” all clumped in the middle and its wild greens only sporadically drizzled with raspberry vinaigrette.
The Dungeness crab bisque was a tempting starter, as were the half-dozen antipasti, but we opted instead for one of the evening’s four pizzas. A fine decision: D’Aquila makes a killer cracker-thin crust, then tops it, in the case of the Caprese ($9), with sweet red sauce, sun-dried tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, pecorino, and strips of sprightly basil. The flavors in this pie were bright and well-defined, the harmonies brilliant.
Off a list of eight pastas, we chose two: smoked duck ravioli ($15) and linguine della Sardegna ($16). The former, crafted of ravioli D’Aquila makes and stuffs with a Muscovy duck mixture he smokes in-house, was deep and smoky, draped in a savory reduction of wild mushrooms: a lush, intense dish. The latter, a close cousin to a plate I can recall from Il Bistro, featured Dungeness crab in a creamy tomato sauce with shiitakes and basil. There’s a fine line between subtle and bland, and this plate stood just astride it. It should be noted that the person who ordered this dish pronounced it just right for his mood that night, just as it should be noted that I thought it a pitiable waste of perfectly delicate Dungeness.
IT WAS WHEN the rack of lamb ($25) arrived that we realized that for all his obvious gifts as a chef, D’Aquila’s modulations can be off. The merlot demiglace was as strong as the crab pasta was bland—too strong for the wonderful meat. I’ve had D’Aquila’s rack of lamb at Il Bistro, and I believe the preparation was similar: a heady wine-dark glaze rich with the flavors of tomato and rosemary. I don’t remember it drowning the meat before. (Perhaps with tweaking it wouldn’t have to.) This dish was served alongside nicely done beans and squash, and a serving of nondescript orzo.
Much better was a blue-ribbon plate of osso buco ($20), that fall-off-the-bone veal dish that, as a kind of rich man’s pot roast, defines traditional rustic Italian cooking. D’Aquila’s version was exquisite: a moist and rich veal shank served atop delectable triangles of crunchy grilled risotto and smothered in sauce. You want to come to La Palina just to order this.
We finished with a nice creamy tiramisu ($4.50) and a parfait glass of zabaglione over fruit ($4.50), and sat savoring the ambiance. Looking around, we realized that most of the surrounding tables were empty. Dino D’Aquila or no Dino D’Aquila, Moscrip clearly has his work cut out for him if he wants to make this forgotten-side-ofSeattle Center address into a destination again.
He could start by improving the service, which ranged from chilly, slow, and neglectful (our waiter didn’t say a word about the specials) to obsequious and, I dare say, emotionally needy. (When will servers in this town stop fishing for compliments? If one more busboy or dishwasher had asked how our dinner was, I would have thrown it at him.) Service has never been Moscrip’s strong suit; he seems to believe that good looks alone can get the job done. As a result, there’s a polish of professionalism missing from his properties. He would do well to look to Il Bistro’s glory days for a lesson in this department.
That done, La Palina could become a fine pre- or post-theater spot. The prices are good, the food often fine, and the atmosphere romantic. C’mon in, Seattle—Duke’s been in his clam chowder rut for far too long, and here’s your chance to help him climb out of it.
