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DineOut
By
Shelley Barnes
 Not
for the Spaghetti-and-Meatball Crowd
Westheimer’s newest restaurant, Da Marco,
is serving creative Italian food that’s deliciously
unlike any you’ve tasted before.
If karma has anything to do with a restaurant’s
success, Da Marco was a sure thing even before its March
14 opening. Just look at chef and owner Marco Wiles’
impressive roster, which reads like a “Top 10”
from Houston’s restaurant industry: Tony’s,
Aldo’s, La Griglia, Mingalone.
Like learning the classical repertoire before venturing
out into jazz, Wiles honed classic cooking skills from
each of his brilliant mentors before venturing into
gastronomic improvisation. And like other great chefs,
Wiles creates synergy from unlikely food couplings.
But this alone isn’t what differentiates Da Marco
from classic or even trendy Italian restaurants. Indeed,
Wiles’ creation is a stand-alone for its complete
lack of anything traditional or trendy. While many of
Wiles’ dishes are inspired by his northeast Italian
homeland—fare that, as he puts it, consists mainly
of gnocchi, polenta, and pigeon—Wiles’ take
on tradition is far from the familiar spaghetti-and-meat-sauce
repertoire we’ve come to call Italian food here
in America.
Truth be told, Da Marco’s menu isn’t looking
for popular acceptance, which is fine since it probably
won’t appeal to the lowest common denominator.
You won’t find any Caesar salad or fried calamari
here. Wiles is not marketing a crowd pleaser—he’s
pleasing himself. Lest you think this is snobbery, let
me clarify. Da Marco is the incarnation of Marco Wiles’
long-time dream, and no one, no one is going to make
him compromise a menu he has mentally and literally
honed for 20 years. So if you consider yourself a lover
of Italian food, please don’t let unfamiliar terminology
like artichoke alla guidea or obscure combinations
like shaved celery salad with beets and pecorino put
you off, or you’ll miss out on an extraordinary
experience. Because despite its unfamiliar bill of fare,
De Marco’s is quite capable of broad spectrum appeal.
In fact, my own experience should serve as a guide.
My husband, whose tastes reflect his simple meat-’n’-potatoes
Midwestern roots, found Da Marco so alluring he now
touts it to his golfing buddies. This is, trust me,
more of a testament than any esteemed food critic can
possibly bestow.
What does have Everyman appeal, however, is the décor.
Walking into Da Marco is like diving into a giant sunflower
in full bloom, something you’d never fathom from
its solemn, brick-red exterior (sitting demurely in
the triangular wedge previously occupied by Awash).
Pale wood floors gleam from the natural sunlight that
reflects off the mellow yellow walls. Crisp white table
linens are topped with sparkling wineglasses and brilliant
silver, and strands of Mediterranean music probably
cause a subliminal urge to order successive bottles
of interesting Italian wines, which we did. To California
wine lovers, the Italian-only wine list may look daunting.
If so, I urge you to get over any Napa/Sonoma ethnocentricity
and let your waiter match each glass or bottle to your
food. Wiles has his waiters well trained, and on their
recommendations, each wine we sipped—from the Vescovo
Tocai Fruiulano ‘l Fiori’ 1996 ($24 per bottle
and well worth every drop) to the Prunotto Barbero d’Asti
Fiulot ($8 a glass) to the ’97 Moscato d’Asti
dessert wine—seemed deliberately made for the sampled
dishes.
Without further ado, let the verbal unveiling begin.
Amid the more familiar seared tuna and spicy shrimp
appetizers, we started with a seemingly ladies-doing-lunch
salad of shaved celery with beets and pecorino ($7).
With flavor a definitive attention grabber, crisp wafers
of celery are crowned by fennel, red onion, Parmesan,
and a citrus vinaigrette. Neither bland nor heavy, this
salad is just crunchy enough to satisfy anyone with
an oral fixation. In fact, Da Marco boasts several items
that appeal to the orally fixated.
Take, for example, his artichoke alla guidea
($7). Or take it out, as you’ll be prone to do
often once you sample this edible ancient flower. Chef
Wiles prepares it as did Jews during Roman rule, plucking
off the thick, course exterior leaves and leaving the
tender ones intact. In a quick oil flash fry, the leaves
are rendered edible in their entirety, chewy and delicately
crunchy with a barely perceivable essence of mint and
lemon. After this version, artichoke purists will never
be satisfied with those sticky bread-crumbed charlatans.
Really, we feared it might render the rest of the meal
anticlimactic, so sure were we that we’d stumbled
upon lasting greatness early on in the game.
But Wiles has a few other sleepers stored up his chef’s
sleeve that turn classic Italian into an Academy Award-winning
Italian Beauty, not the least of which is the prosciutto
san daniele ($9). The meat is just as you’d
anticipate—lean, salty parchment paper-thin strips
meant to be scooped up with crispy crostini. And artfully
hidden within is a generous slathering of fig jam. Yes,
you read “fig jam.” And yes, you’re still
reading the same food review of Da Marco, just in case
you thought you’d slipped into some kind of Edible
Twilight Zone. It’s these little details that make
Wiles’ cuisine so unforgettable. If you thought
Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, chocolate-covered pretzels,
duck á l’orange innovative, the fig jam/prosciutto
combo will really float your boat.
 The
entrees were no less inventive, although the conformist
in me secretly wished for just a bite of buffalo mozzarella
with tomatoes or anything that would jog my taste buds
into Italian mode. But the sea bass jarred me back into
reality: With my first bite came the stark realization
that I simply should not expect to see anything remotely
familiar to the Italian fare I know and love. Yet with
that came the revelation that Wiles was introducing me
to a symphony of flavors and combinations that make my
beloved Italian favorites seem dull by comparison. So
taken was I by this luscious flaky fish tinged with grapefruit
($19) that Lent would have been a cakewalk had I known
fish could be prepared so succulently.
Wiles knows how to prepare a good cut of meat, specifically
the pork shank zia Milena ($18) and venison tenderloin
($25) that played musical plates at our table to the
sounds of mild slurping. How one manages to slurp cuts
of meat would have been completely lost on me had I
not witnessed this with my own eyes and, embarrassingly,
been a willing participant. “Tender” doesn’t
do justice to these morsels that literally cave in when
cut.
One caveat about Da Marco that warrants just a tad of
caution is the lack of embellishment. If Wiles knows
how to prepare a potato, you’d never know it, and
you won’t find many accompanying his entrees. Instead
be prepared for braised cabbage, polenta, brussel sprouts
with pancetta, and garlic spinaci that, at $5 per side,
add color and flavor if not bulk. If bulk is what you’re
after, this is not the place, even if you order what
I consider the heaviest of all Italian dishes, risotto.
For me there is nothing better in the carbohydrate department
than a good risotto, one with character and enough variety
of flavors to keep you entertained well after the first
few bites. Wiles’ versions aren’t remotely
heavy, and clearly risotto is a dish that sparks his
imagination, to the point where I’m hoping his
three creations will serve as archetypes for future
restaurateurs. Wild asparagus risotto with smoked salmon
($14), green apple risotto with chianti braised beef
brisket ($17), even the requisite risotto con porcini
($11), left me elated instead of overwhelmed.
After such sumptuous fare, the meal’s unexpected
pièce de résistance was a simple pizza
margherita ($9). The mozzarella was as pure as it comes,
the roma tomatoes were flown in from Italy, fresh strands
of basil delicately swirled over every inch of chewy
dough, and in a single bite I knew I’d experienced
rapture. No, I am not exaggerating; in fact I challenge
anyone to find a pizza margherita this exquisite in
all of Houston.
Now, here’s the rub: Other than a brief stint in
a New York culinary institute, Wiles has had no formal
chef’s training. He’s self-taught, which is
probably why his food is so inspiring. For any aspiring
chef with a little time and imagination, Da Marco is
a heck of a role model.
Da
Marco, 1520 Westheimer, 713/807-8857. Mon.-Fri., 11:30
a.m.–2 p.m. and 5:30–10 p.m.Closed Sundays.
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