Extra Virgin (VA - Arlington)

Chef Daniele Catalani, alumnus of Galileo restaurant in DC, has opened Extra Virgin amongst the bustling oasis of restaurants that have cropped up on South 28th Street in Arlington/Shirlington.

The sleek, modern, night club feel of the restaurant is a fitting setting for Catalani's progressive and imaginative brand of Italian cooking. Unfortunately for him, not since Redskins owner Dan Snyder dismissed coach Marty Schottenheimer has the DC area witnessed such a dysfunctional marriage of front office and back office.

While Catalani's cooking is excellent - and at times brilliant - the wait staff possesses a dangerous combination of carelessness and indifference. Specials were read off a list (with Italian pronunciations botched at every opportunity), routine questions about the preparation of several dishes elicited blank stares, we were informed that certain dishes had been "86ed" only AFTER ordering them, water glasses went unfilled and dishes arrived several minutes apart - often cold.

Catalani has managed to hire a front office that is even worse than that at his alma mater, Galileo - no small feat considering their notoriously rude and inattentive dining room staff.

We began our meal at the bar with the restaurant's signature beverage: the Extra Virgin Dirty Martini. This martini is not dirty, it is filthy. The bartenders keep squeeze bottle of olive juice behind the bar and gush the contents liberally into each and every shaker. The default is vodka but they were more than happy to customize mine by substituting gin.

[Note: I consider it another sure sign of the Apocalypse that vodka has become the default ingredient in traditionally gin-based drinks. Forget the cold war - when I have to opt out of vodka to specify that I want my martini or gimlet made with GIN, the Russians have already won.]

The murky liquid is dispensed into an oversized martini glass and accompanied by six enormous green olives - each stuffed with gorgonzola. Whoever thought of this should be beatified.

People at the bar struggle with how exactly to eat the olives - Emily Post never really laid down rules for dropping cheese stuffed olives into a vat of vodka [sic] or gin - but the consensus seems to be to gently roll them into the martini glass and after a few sips, fish it out with a cocktail straw, then repeat.

Sure, the whole thing costs $14, but the combination of flavors is incredible. The meaty, herbal tartness of the olives yields to the rich, creamy, spicy gorgonzola and the generous soaking of alcohol clears the palate.

Once our party of four made it to our table, we dove into the bread basket as we perused the menus. I don't know where Catalani is getting his bread, but it is excellent. Generally speaking, DC is in dire need of quality baked goods, but at Extra Virgin, you will find classic Italian bread - thick crusty stuff that is soft and pillowy in the middle and not, as Dante's compatriots in the Inferno complain, "salted" at all.

They also served a fantastic caramelized tomato focaccia and a less well received sun dried tomato flat bread.

For starters, we had tuna carpaccio on white beans salad, a classic Caesar salad, fried calamari and a salad of fresh mozzarella, tomato and balsamic. All were very solid, with the calamari and the tuna as the most obvious standouts.

The tuna arrived as lightly seared strips - still rare and jewel-like in the center - astride a mound of white beans. The beans were tossed in olive oil, maybe a little bit of lemon juice and very fine ground black pepper and the whole dish received a dash of sea salt. This was simple, elegant cuisine that let the quality of the ingredients speak for themselves.

The calamari were very lightly breaded and fried to perfection - the tender, delightful morsels that all calamari strives to become - not the usual, chewy, leathery stuff. The accompanying red pepper remoulade was a nice pairing and was light and airy.

The Caesar salad was pretty standard - better than average dressing (clearly made on the premises, with anchovy) over chunks of romaine, a handful of pecorino and served in something reminiscent of a tortilla shell. Weird.

For main courses, we had porcini risotto with truffle oil, fresh crab meat ravioli with yellow pepper coulis, strozzapretti with tomato and pork sausage, and a NY Strip steak.

The risotto and the ravioli arrived first, followed approximately three minutes later by the steak and the strozzapretti. This allowed the risotto to cool and develop a nice thick skin and provided the ravioli the opportunity to cool down to room temperature. Disgraceful.

Despite the service gaff, the food was quite good. Everyone at the table liked the risotto the best, and while I agree that it was good, the truffle oil was unidentifiable.

The ravioli got my vote as best dish simply because I am a slave to seasonal ingredients. Blue crab stuffed ravioli served in a roasted yellow pepper coulis - it doesn't get any simpler than that - and on the banks of the Potomac in August, it doesn't get any fresher either. The only critique of the dish is that it was almost too sweet. The sweetness in the crab meat played off the sugar in the yellow pepper coulis and was almost too much.

The strozzapretti were also very good. While I admire Catalani's attempt to serve lesser known pastas, this delightful variety lost something in both the waiter's inability to pronounce it and his difficulty in explaining what the hell it is.

[The name strozzapretti translates as "Priest Strangler" presumably after a particularly gluttonous priest who ate too many of these. The pasta itself is a long, skinny dumpling, with a slight twist to it - like a cross between a thick cavatelli and rotini.]

Anyway, the dumpling-like consistency of the pasta paired beautifully with the hearty meatiness of the pork sausage and red sauce. This dish also benefited greatly by being one of the only two that were served warm.

The steak was awful. Over-cooked and served with a sad looking roasted tomato and some potatoes. I have already spent more time describing it than it is worth.

Somewhat shell-shocked by the uneven performance, we cut our losses and skipped dessert.

I wish Chef Catalani luck in turning this project around. His cooking is certainly worthy of a better supporting cast.

Perhaps he should skip the strozzapretti and strangle his wait staff instead.