La Fontana opened in January to barely a whisper. With Amada deservedly capturing the rapturous praise and hoi polloi, La Fontana has quietly set about establishing itself as a neighborhood Italian restaurant. The decor is fairly elegant, and the deep crimson carpet beckons one to make oneself at home. A quick glance at the menu reaffirms this, and comprises the types of dishes that people can eat every day.
For starters, we tried two ubiquitous Italian staples: fried calamari ($8) and arugala salad ($7). The salad, which I would challenge any restaurant to screw up, arrived exactly as advertised, coated in olive oil and topped with tame shaved Parmesan. By contrast, botched calamari is almost a proverb, and La Fontana distinguishes itself accordingly. The batter was light and greaseless, and the calamari faultlessly fresh. More importantly though, this was real calamari, in taste and appearance. Sadly, most restaurants now serve greasy pretenders that are dead-ringers for onion rings.
Onto my main course, the daily special of Lobster ravioli ($25) with crab-cognac sauce. This was far better than the cemetery of leftover shellfish I was frankly expecting, as strands of tender crabmeat melted effortlessly into a creamy but over-flambeed sauce. The ravioli themselves didn't quite match up -- the pasta was thick and jagged, and the lobster muted by its seasoning. I also tried the Veal Fontana ($21), scallopine of veal topped with Mozzarella and swamped with a Porcini sauce. These accompaniments, munificently heaped on, were unfortunately a little congealed. Still, the dish was rustic and comforting -- archetypal Italian fare.
Dessert called for a return to the omnipresents, so selection was all too easy. Tiramisu and creme brulee or some bombastic permutations thereof (see your local Starr restaurant) are on most dessert menus in Philadelphia. Much to my surprise, the creme brulee ($7) was a disaster on both fronts: distressingly frothy inside and insufficiently torched outside. Thankfully redemption was at hand, in the guise of a Tiramisu cake ($7). The mocha cream was at once gossamer and unctuous, and though hidden under fluffy pastry, it was far from shy on the palate.
La Fontana is definitely a welcome addition to Philly's bulging portfolio of Italian BYOBs. The service here is far better than in many others. While unlikely to satisfy the adventurous epicure, La Fontana is all about the simple pleasures of dining out.
