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Savor the Flavor of Sardinia in TexasBy Liz Berger
The brothers themselves come from a dynasty that has carefully tended the time-honored secrets of Sardinian cuisine. Their father and mother live to this day in the rural eastern coastal town of Orosei, where their father’s vineyards lie. Growing up, Efisio and Francesco worked as espresso baristas and busboys in their aunt’s and uncle’s nearby restaurant. Since childhood the brothers have absorbed the fundamentals of Sardinian wine and food—the very freshest of shrimp, prawns, and fish chosen right off the fisherman’s boat, the gathering of wild asparagus, dandelions, arugula, and aromatic herbs that nestle among olive orchards, grazing sheep, and rocky foothills. Game, savory meat, and cheese are found in the craggy hill country, and fresh fruits and vegetables are picked from the local flatlands and river banks. While Sardinian food has changed little over many centuries, being the staple of farmers and shepherds, it has grown extraordinarily complex in texture and flavor. This is a cuisine distinguished by ingredients which are almost impossible to find anywhere else—the “bottarga,” mullet eggs served either fresh with salads and bread, or sun-dried, aged and grated over pasta. Bitter honey, fregula (the couscous of Sardinia), pane carasau (a crisp, thin bread), and pungent wild herbs are indigenous to Sardinia but exotic finds elsewhere. But now the brothers Farris as master chefs have brought all of these wonders to Texas appetites, creating a well-deserved culinary sensation with their Dallas and Houston restaurants that preserve and extend the Sardinian tradition with scrupulous integrity. “Arcodoro and Pomodoro” on Routh Street lie in the heart of Dallas’ Uptown district, two restaurants in one. The entry way delivers the diner into the heart of the veritable piazza, filled with chic crowds and complete with roof-tops and a “Romeo and Juliet” balcony. Directly in one’s line of sight lies the famous Arcodoro wood-burning stove, with pizza makers tossing the Margherita, finished with buffalo mozzarella, or the Napoletana, with capers and anchovies, or the Mare & Monti, with marinated shrimp, mushrooms, and artichoke hearts. Hot coals grill the award-winning Costata d’Oro, an aged rib-eye steak marinated in herbs. On the walls, faux surfaces recall the architecture of antiquity, and the floors—stone and marble imported from Sardinia—contributes to the mood of sophisticated fantasy. Collections of plates from dozens of restaurants in Italy deck the spaces, as do colorful fresco murals by the Sardinian artist Alfonso Silba. The central granite-topped bar offers a splendid spectrum, including the restaurant’s trademark’s offering, the “Grapparita®.” This signature drink resembles a margarita but contains only Italian ingredients and features grappa instead of tequila—a powerful traditional beverage distilled from pomace, the pulpy remains of grape seeds, stems, and skins that is left behind from the wine-making process. Also notable is the Mirto Martini, made from the Sardinian myrtle trees and distilled into mirto, the quintessentially Sardinian liqueur. Mirto itself is a classic digestive, served here chilled, after dinner.
Proceeding to the right, the formal dining room of Pomodoro strikes a majestic note with its series of Fortuny ceiling fixtures of Renaissance patterned glass, fine table crystal and sparkling linens. But it is the many-courses of the full dinner that commands one’s focus—masterful, aromatic, exquisite, and plentiful to a ridiculous degree. Both the classic Sardinian dishes—so identified by appearing on the menu in red ink—and the chef’s personal interpretations of these dishes are redolent with a mysterious depth and dignity that the qualifier “rustic” does not properly capture.
All of these marvels are enhanced by the impressive offerings of the lengthy wine list, but one cannot leave without sampling the red and white house wines, whose labels are charmingly decorated with images from the family photo album. Desserts with mystical names—sospiri (the sigh)—rounded out a stunning gustatory experience. As the sojourn to Sardinia draws to a close, one is tempted to send a postcard home. Here is food of the here-and-now, but with majestic echoes of the there-and-then. Our hearts have been conquered! Arcodoro & Pomodoro Arcodoro |
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Pictures
of the island of Sardinia—remote and archaic, lying to the south of
Corsica—have stared out of Latin school books since the beginning of time.
Mountainous, fragrant, rustic, covered with swaying myrtle groves and
populated by a hardy agricultural and fishing people known for their
extraordinary longevity, Sardinia has long been a mysterious cosmos all to
itself. The ancient Phoenicians and Carthaginians made their outposts there
before the island fell to the Romans two hundred years before Christ. In
turn, the trading empires of Arabia, Africa, and Greece all left their mark
on the Sardinia’s evolving culture.
But
now its unique cuisine has itself established a beachhead in Texas (of all
places!) thanks to the genius of two brothers, Efisio and Francesco Farris,
chefs and owners of two fraternal restaurants “Arcodoro and Pomodoro” (in
Dallas), and “Arcodoro” (in Houston). 
On
Thursdays, a special Arcodoro Happy Hour beckons with an array of sumptuous
Sardinian appetizers and a lively salsa musical accompaniment (at other
times the music is Italian). Off to the side of the see-and-be-seen central
area lies a series of private dining rooms. The Cork Room (La Sugheretta)
seats thirteen around a single spectacular table, and another—the wine
room—holds a small part of the Farris’ extensive and award-winning wine
collection (bring your evening wrap to eat in this uniquely low-temperature
but elegant setting!)
The
fourteen antipasti offered on one particular evening include an immortal
Polenta al Nero de Seppia con Calamaretti, baby calamari in a black squid
ink sauce. Other deservedly famous favorites on the dinner menu include
Maccarrones de Puntzu—handmade semolina dumplings topped with a ragu of baby
lamb—and Gnocchetti Sardi al Cinghiale, Sardinian teardrop pasta in a sauce
derived from red wine and wild boar. Here one finds the likes of Costolette
d’Agnello al Vino Cotto, broiled rack of lamb simmered in an aged balsamic
caramelle sauce and served with “music bread”—or Scaloppina Arcodoro, veal
medallions sautéed with a reduction of Monica di Sardegna and oysters.