SA Weekend restaurant review – La Locanda

The sublime gnocchi and panna cotta more than make up for the glitzy decor at a new Italian eatery, writes Simon Wilkinson.

I have a borderline obsession with panna cotta. If it’s on the menu, as it so often is, I’m going to order it, even though the chances of it being made properly are disappointingly low.

Serving it in a bowl or other form of mould is an automatic fail. It needs to stand up on its own. So is making it with so much gelatine that it bounces back from the prod of a spoon like the rubber man in Fantastic Four.

The panna cotta at La Locanda, a surprising new Italian in the CBD, is the complete opposite. Give the plate a little jiggle, and it doesn’t just get a bad case of the shakes, it begins to quiver uncontrollably. One harsh word or sideways glance and it could completely fall apart.

The fragility of this dessert, the exquisite judgment of its surface tension, is the whole point. As well as being sublime when it slips across the tongue, it is a true test of the skill and bravado of its creator. Otherwise you are just making jelly.

La Locanda gets this, and most other things, absolutely right.

We’ll get to the extraordinary gnocchi and beef cheeks in a moment.

That’s not to say I like everything about this restaurant that opened at the base of an apartment complex on Frome St just a few months ago.

Supplied Editorial Gnocchi with pork sausage at La Locanda, Frome St, city

Owner/chefs Giuseppe Marra and Laura Middei, both Italian, based its look on the Giorgio Armani hotel in Milan. One wall is covered in a mural that has the cosmic feel of a sci-fi book cover.

Golden chains hang from the light fittings like a strange form of lichen on a tree branch. Overall, it has the faux-luxe feel of a discount jewellery store.

Where it really counts, however, La Locanda is the genuine article. Our waiter is welcoming but reassuringly professional, in that old-school Italian way. And while the cooking does slip in a few a few questionable accessories – hummus foam, spun sugar netting – it is underpinned by the kind of technical mastery that is a rare find in a restaurant of this type.

The fritto misto, for instance, is the equal of any I’ve come across for some time. School prawns, whitebait and the curled tubes and separate tentacles of slender, pint-sized squid are each handled in a way that show both great attention to detail. Crisp and clean-flavoured, they could only have come from the fryer a minute earlier, before being tossed with a dice of pickled capsicum and other vegetables. Underneath all that is an intriguing smoked garlic aioli that might have been better left to the side.

Before grilling, octopus tentacle has been gently poached to the point it loses all springiness and cuts in the way you’d expect from a fillet of deep-sea fish. It looks all charred and glossy, has the right smell and flavour, but for me the texture is disconcerting, a slight itch that is aggravated by the addition of foamed hummus and olive dust.

The four pasta options avoid the cliches. A long mound of spaghetti is coated in a thick, green pesto that combines the basil from the classic Genovese recipe with tomatoes, almonds and pecorino cheese from Sicily, an unlikely alliance that comes up trumps. A pair of fried Coorong mullet fillets are draped across the top.

Supplied Editorial Spaghetti trapanese with Coorong mullet at La Locanda, Frome St, city

Gnocchi with clumps of fried pork sausage and shredded friarielli (the pungent green better known as rapini) is bound in an emulsion the chef calls a “cheese fondue”. It isn’t particularly inspiring looks-wise but those little potato lozenges are so incredibly light and more-ish that everyone at the table is oohing and aahing, even giggling at the wonder of it all.

A beef cheek braised in red wine brings close to the same reaction. Yes, you expect the meat to fall apart but rarely is it kept so gloriously gelatinous and luscious as this. A simple carrot puree also plays its part.

“Millefoglie” is the Italian name for a mille-feuille, though rather than usual layers of pastry this version is like a biscuit with a vanilla-scented custard and berry compote piped on top.

The panna cotta, as noted above, is in a league of its own, the cream set with such skill it hardly matters that it is surrounded by a rather naff assortment of pureed mango blobs, smashed meringue and a curved lattice of spun sugar.

A little like La Locanda itself. Adelaide has plenty of Italian eateries to pick from that look the part but don’t get the basics right. Perfect panna cotta or a flash setting? I’d pick the former every time.