It's a tiny place and easy to miss, Vin Antico, especially if you are driving west along the 800 block of Fourth Street. If a friend hadn't told me to check it out, I would never even have noticed it was there. But a quick peek I had at the interior of the three-month-old wine bar and restaurant revealed a seamless fusion of Big City chic and neighborhood charm. I couldn't tarry on my introductory foray, but I definitely wanted to return.
Subdued lighting, tile floors in burnt sienna, a brick wall punctuated with moody paintings in deep reds and sultry burgundies by Vakhtang, dark wood tables and a marble counter overlooking the open kitchen all lend a quality at once contemporary and timeless (Vin Antico translates to "wine of the ages"). Geometrically shaped glassware lined up just so, bowls and platters resting at oblique angles all done to aid and abet in presenting the food with simplicity and style.
Owner Kerri Cerundolo worked with San Francisco architect Michael Guthrie (who designed Bix and Tablespoon) to include a sleek wine bar, open kitchen with counter seating for singles, and tables seating up to 34 in the narrow room. High ceilings and a view of the leafy section of Fourth Street through a wall of windows help create an impression of spaciousness. There's a platter filled with fat candles hanging from the ceiling near the front, evoking the ambiance of a Renaissance wine cellar. Meanwhile, a changing selection of world music, perhaps a decibel too loud, provides a jazzy backdrop.
General manager Marisol Rodriguez, who designed the wine and cheese programs, described Cerundolo's vision as an Italian-style enoteca showcasing great Italian wines, with dining options ranging from a quick snack with a glass of wine to a leisurely multicourse dinner. Chef Paul Luna, whose Lunatique Café in Atlanta, and work as executive chef at the Oval Room in Washington, D.C., made him something of an East Coast celebrity, consulted during July and early August to pull the concept into focus and train the staff. New chef Roland Robles, whose crimson chef's hat is easy to follow as he moves around the kitchen and among the tables, is obviously enjoying the process of refining a menu that changes daily, showcasing fresh seasonal ingredients and house-made specialties.
The wine list, which like the menu is still evolving, includes approximately 150 bottles and almost 50 wines poured by the 3- or 5-ounce glass. We began with a glass of Prosecco di Valdobbiadene, Drussian Francesco Veneto NV ($8) and a half glass of lightly fruity Colonnara Verdicchio, Marches 2004 ($4). The prosecco had distinctive tropical notes, unusual in a sparkling wine.
Antipasto ($10), whose assortment changes daily, was an oval platter lined with translucent ruffles of prosciutto, coppa and bresaola, along with a selection of olives, roasted peppers, miniature artichoke hearts and a spoonful of house-made fresh ricotta drizzled with balsamic reduction. Two shards of toasted house-made focaccia were provided for sopping up juices. The plate seemed skimpy to me; it could have been fleshed out with more vegetables. But we had also ordered an heirloom tomato salad layered with fresh house-made mozzarella and basil ($7.50), which combined nicely with the salty meats. Garibaldi ($6.50), a lovely salad of spinach, rosy peach slices, pistachios and Gorgonzola with a light, lemony dressing, added further dimension to our first-course foraging.
Service was friendly and not inefficient, but a bit erratic. Although our server noted that we planned to share, we were not provided with plates for doing so, and made do with the very tiny saucers I assume had been provided for bread. But they were really too small to use for salads and appetizers; leaves of spinach fell around them as we tried to portion them out. We were asked if we wanted to order wine after we had already ordered it. And confusion about the menu choices on our server's part came and went throughout the meal.
Even though the menu changes nightly, there are also specials written on a chalkboard near the door. Agnello ($16), lamb sirloin braised until tender in tomatoes and wine, was served in slices over half-inch slabs of heirloom tomatoes. This summery, rustic take on pot roast came topped with a garlicky red radicchio slaw and French-cut green beans, so rarely seen on plates these days. It was a hearty dish, pretty and colorful, and the juicy tomatoes paired well with the earthiness of the lamb. With it, a recommended glass of 2000 Cir Riserva from Duca San Felice in Calabria ($9) provided a slightly fruity foil.
Escolar alla Griglia ($14), grilled Hawaiian white fish topped with a sauce of chopped tomatoes, roasted red peppers, olives and capers, rested on a bed of grilled fennel root with another spoonful of the finely shaved radicchio slaw. Chef Robles is clearly making creative use of the lush late summer bounty of tomatoes; almost every dish we sampled included them, but in each they were utilized in a different way. With the escolar, my companion savored a glass of 2004 Cantina del Taburno Falanghina from Campania ($8).
We thought we should be full. We had eaten an ample amount of food. But perhaps because the chef's light touch had made our selections less filling than expected (or perhaps because we hadn't eaten any bread or starchy foods), we weren't. We might have settled on a cheese course, but our server neglected to tell us about the cheese program. So we surprised even ourselves by ordering one more round of appetizers before moving on to dessert. By that time it was past 9pm, and some of the staff were sitting down to a family-style dinner. Chef Robles stopped by to congratulate us on our own eclectic grazing style.
Fichie e prosciutto ($5.50), sliced figs with prosciutto and radicchio, made a nice transitional dish. I loved my bowl of vongole ($5.50), steamed Manila clams in white wine and garlic sauce. We split an order of schacciata ($1.50), crackling thin, crisp flatbread brushed with olive oil and fresh herbs.
At that hour, the dessert list was limited. We chose crme brlée ($6.50), described by our server as citrus, but actually vanilla, and chocolate mousse ($7). Both were unusually small portions. The custard was creamy and lush, but its crust had been caramelized in advance, so it had softened. The rich mousse was really only a large spoonful served over macerated strawberries in a diminutive martini glass. There wasn't quite enough of it to savor. A heavy, modern glass of sweet Vi de Gel dessert wine ($8) also seemed to be barely more than a mouthful.
The check arrives tucked into an antique book. Ours was a small volume of Ovid's poetry. But it was too close to bedtime for me to start studying the classics.
Even though dinner service was clearly winding down as we left, folks were stopping in for glasses of wine and conversation. The atmosphere was convivial and relaxed. Chef Robles has instituted Spaghettata nights some Wednesdays, with live music and all-you-can-eat pasta. Once the menu and service settle down to a little more consistency, Vin Antico should provide just what its creators envisioned: a friendly, lively place for a glass of good wine and a selection of cheeses, a crisp pizzettine, a bowl of pasta or a meal of any size served with simple artistry and casual flair.
