Imagine a supernova, some kind of brilliant detonation that cleared all the interior walls of the former Pasqual’s Cantina in Hilldale, while turning the exterior to shiny glass. Boom, you figured it out Amara.
The third restaurant owned by Rule No. One Hospitality Group (Lucille, Merchant), Amara, may be a dramatic tonal change for this part of Hilldale, but will be consistent with Hilldale’s refined atmosphere. The Amalfi Coast aesthetic – radiant, acidic and seafood-focused – opens up a menu not found in many Madison kitchens. Lighting fixtures reminiscent of oranges and fishing baskets reinforce this point.
The open dining room is minimally divided by a triangular decorative space created by the backs of two rows of banquet chairs, and here a lush planter provides a visual centerpiece. The illuminated bar, reaching almost to the high ceiling, provides a jewel-toned glow in a space already seemingly designed to attract and absorb every drop of external lithe.
Atmosphere is the center of the Amara experience. This is a restaurant that wants to be seen. And it is indeed attractive, but splendor alone will not cook the pasta.
I enjoyed the bucatini nero with inky black pasta cooked to a springy al dente and decadently topped with calamari and shaved lobster roe, just enough. His ‘nduja added a noticeable spice to it. Special tender agnolotti stuffed with onions and potatoes was combined with tender pieces of stewed lamb.
If cacio e pepe, made here from knobby ribbons of mafaldine pasta, was a bit pasta-cheesy, it was at least good macaroni and cheese. Just expenses. And gnocchi with spinach and ricotta with fried sage may be a classic recipe, but it turned out a bit uninteresting. Luckily, pasta dishes are available in half or whole portions if you want to hedge your bets.
Overall, the menu should please vegetarians, although vegan meals may be more challenging.
The “spuntino” (“snack” or “light meal”) section of the menu offers smaller but still shared plates. Grilled charcoal is good for spiedini shrimp. Gigante beans are a elementary side dish, gently cooked and topped with sour giardiniera. The fried mozzarella may bring to mind cheese curds, but it’s powerful enough that cutting it in half didn’t seem too precious.
Lunch seems to be a hit with families, at least on the weekend. One Sunday, there must have been a half-dozen children of all ages in the dining room. The kids menu seems fun and varied. The adult tuna confit salad was generously portioned with gently cooked tuna, but perhaps too generously dressed. The fatty tonnato sauce pooled at the bottom of the plate.
Various bruschettas are served with breaded bread to scoop yourself, which prevents the leaven from getting soggy. The smoked eggplant caponata was surprisingly shadowy in color, not what I expected, but satisfying. Stracciatella and crab bruschetta provided contrast, all fresh and milky cheese with strands of slightly salty crab. If you prefer integrated bread and sides, dollops of winter vegetable panzanella with crunchy sourdough cubes, brown butter sherry vinaigrette, and Asian pear filled every inch of these plate-bowl hybrids, apparently designed specifically for giant salads.
Crispy-skinned porchetta just went from winter to spring and I got a huge ring of truth in advertising. Juicy on the inside and blistered on a surface that a culinary influencer would legally be forced to drag a knife through just for the sound, it was porchetta worth two meals. A lightly sour tapenade, in which I found no olives, but bears a powerful resemblance to giardiniera, perfectly balanced all this richness.
At the end of a meal that can be nutritious, dessert should really catch your attention. The burnt ricotta dough tempted me immediately, but with an already bitter layer of caramelization on top, the extreme bitterness of the candied citrus compote was too much to enjoy – and I’m a Campari guy, I love bitter Italian things.
Meanwhile, Amara’s caramelized white chocolate budino was not sweet. The raspberries cut it with tartness, and the crushed hazelnuts added nutty warmth and texture. It was the least pretty dish we were served, housed in a double rocks glass, but it did exactly what it needed to do.
Amara is a vast restaurant with substantial ambitions. Even with equally vast staff numbers, there were times when we were overlooked, with servers circling around us and not giving us a glance. But at another meal, our waiter was cordial, even affectionately attentive. Balancing sweet and bitter can be quite a trick, but sometimes anything sweet is just fine.
Amara
670 N. Midvale Blvd.
608-716-7989; amaramadison.com
11:00-21:00 Sunday-Thursday, 11:00-22:00 Friday-Saturday
$9-45
