Once, a chef got upset with me for strategically garnishing a dish. “Just let it land on the plate,” he said. I was trying too hard, and it showed: My food looked fussy, constrained, and planned. It’s hard work to make things seem natural, and when it comes to Italian food in Austin, things can feel, well, mechanical.
The long list of new spots (often a result of restaurant-group overlords) specialize in spiced-up standard-issue fare “with a twist!” and dining rooms that look like IKEA’s “modern restaurant” floor model. They masquerade as down-to-earth, family-owned establishments – decorated with checkered tablecloths and that one famous mugshot of Frank Sinatra – but deep down, they’re the creation of some barely inspired visionary who went to school for hospitality and doesn’t eat carbs.
