Alma Mater

This month’s dining episode comes to you from San Francisco. Well, not really, but that’s what it feels like supping at Restaurant Alma, with its jeans-clad servers and customers alike, bonding in a comfy, low-key but classy setting over a seasonal prix-fixe menu ($95).  On it, the star of each course is bolstered by sidekicks that buff and polish the main ingredient with their supporting presence. No trumpets, no spotlight—that would so L.A., and this is San Francisco!—simply a market-basket cast in harmony with the bold name on the marquee—er, menu.

As I settle into a window seat and watch the #6 bus lumber by, here come the evening’s antipasti, straight from the cocktail party circuit—twin dishes of brown sugar-spiked almonds and shiny Greek olives clad in threads of orange zest. A bread plate finds its way to the table, along with plentiful Hope butter to dress it. Next aboard, a trio of palate-prepping nibbles, leading off with a domino of Dumbarton Blue English-style Cheddar. It’s as tasty as it sounds, but accompanied by a crisp pepita-peppercorn brittle, which seems like the last piece in Grandma’s Fanny Farmer box—which makes for an ungainly pairing.

Also appearing on this vast, white plate (odd choice for three wee bites) is a silky-sweet slab of tuna crudo that goes down well, assisted by a segment of pink grapefruit as counterpoint, along with a spike of smoked roe and garlic foam. Star of the starters is a mini-dish of warm carrot flan that made my heart melt (seconded by my server as her favorite, too).

Two starter courses next take the stage. First, a rich, chestnut-toned tetsukabuto squash soup—a puree in which bob a couple of chunks of the veggie, abetted by bone marrow, saffron, and crisp-meaty golden beet chips—hearty and mellow without heaviness. Then a saucer of celery-like braised salsify, partnered with caramelized parsnip, smoked ricotta and a zippy sweet-sour golden raisin mostarda, all underscored with wisps of endive and a thick garlic cream: good, but more meh than memorable.

The trio of main courses appear simultaneously and prove to be the highlight of the evening. First, a sweet, tender segment of pork tenderloin consorting with spinach, olive salt and a smooth confit of fingerlings—a swell, simply- and well-conceived presentation. It’s followed by a perfectly timed square of silvery halibut given a Minnesota flair via bits of Honeycrisp apples and a supple cider cream, in which slither a couple of mussels that add pop to the dish. Finally, a farro risotto made ruddy with beets, then livened with crisped shiitakes and mushroom broth, plus visits of Parmesan and black truffle—the who-knew winner of this round.

The timing of the feast is as fast or leisurely as you, the guest, dictate: and now, it’s time for dessert. This evening, the finale is a petite chocolate torte. Built on a light chiffon cake base, the chocolate is baptized in a sarsaparilla (think: root beer) anglaise ands a dust of cocoa crumbs. As I sip the last of my sorghum Old Fashioned ($13), my sweet server delivers a parting gift from the kitchen (which, by happy chance, seems run by a cadre of women): a bag hiding a nugget of shortbread and a truffle for the road. Oh, and a copy of the menu, signed by each and every member of sweet Alma’s staff. Now you know you’re not in San Francisco: That’s Minnesota Nice!

Alma
Open Thurs.-Sun
528 University Ave. SE, Minneapolis
(612) 379-4909
www.almampls.com