J. Devoti Trattoria, formerly Five Bistro, serves up a new approach in The Hill

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Photography by Kevin A. Roberts

It’s not often that you read a restaurant review that commences with lavish praise for a side. Neither is it often, though, that a restaurant’s side dishes are as splendid as J. Devoti’s roasted potatoes. Hefty starchy wedges are dusted with flaky salt and dressed in the violent ochre of an aioli pigmented with saffron. With its delicate crimson stems swirling in the aioli, the luxuriant saffron’s inimitable fragrance perfumes every bite. Roasted potatoes have never been more resplendent.

Located at the edge of The Hill, J. Devoti’s blooms anew from the sturdy stalk of the former Five Bistro. The choice of verb is deliberate: There are raised gardens in the courtyard and fresh flowers on the table. On the spring evening that we first visited, fallen blossoms from fruit trees whirled in the wind, a pink snowstorm against the window beside our table.

Apparently they ran out of paint near the top of the walls, which are charmingly decorated with photographs, including some of the chef’s great-grandfather (the restaurant’s namesake) and other family members. The atmosphere’s intimate, with enough linen, fine glassware, and polished wooden floors to make it worthy of a night-out date. Service is friendly. At a nearby table, a server toted out three wines, then patiently—and knowledgeably—explained each to a pair of diners seeking a good match for their meals. (Even though the place is small, two servers were not enough on the night we visited, and courses came too slowly.)

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Photography by Kevin A. Roberts

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Photography by Kevin A. Roberts

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The menu is not intimidating. It’s a spare though beautifully constructed display of homey American cuisine writ with a polished, upscale charm and a decided emphasis on seasonal choices. Portions are on the smallish side; ingredients and preparations are way above average. Take the scallops: Just two on the plate, they’re delectably sweet, broiled to a golden crust and served with grilled asparagus. The chunk of beef is a bit more substantial, so luxuriously braised, it’s hard to think of it as pot roast. It’s paired with slices of thick French horn mushrooms in a reduction of sherry that accents the roast’s juices. This is the dish to match with those splendid potatoes—and one of the excellent Old World reds.

Fortunately, the place has kept Five Bistro’s extraordinary burger. (Even more happily, they have not kept the billboard-size Lempicka paintings that inevitably startled anyone who wandered into the dining area.) The burger consists of ground beef, lamb, and pork. Presented on a puffy buttered bun, it’s loaded with ham slices, a fried egg, greens, and pickles—a monument to Burger Greatness.

The pasta is house-made, with a perfectly chewable al dente texture, and a couple of the pasta dishes are superb. Ravioli cushions are fluffed with creamy pumpkin purée and topped with a housemade ricotta, shavings of Parmesan, and a lustrous herb butter. Even more extravagant are the fettuccini strands, tossed with a light pesto-and-garlic sauce and some lovely cubes of lardo with a smoky sweetness.

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Photography by Kevin A. Roberts

Deviled eggs exemplify the small-plate offerings. The filling’s spanked with sriracha, which adds a bright, spicy element to the starters. Butter-fried breadcrumbs do the same for a plate of translucent pink carpaccio, a nice contrast to the mineral richness of the beef. Sides (reasonably priced, by the way) are essential: silky polenta, grilled asparagus, a turnip gratin…and did we mention those potatoes? Also not to be missed are the breads, served with fragrant herb butter and olive oil. On one recent visit, our bread basket included focaccia baked with onions and dried tomatoes, as well as a hearty rustic ciabatta—both fine ways to start the evening.

Desserts are suitably rococo. A vanilla bean pound cake, with lemon curd and buttermilk ice cream, is spritzed with a balsamic reduction. The apple sorbet simply explodes with flavor. Do consider, however, the dessert cheeses, all local and craftsmanlike in quality. The page-long cheese menu is among the most engaging in town. The wine list is balanced between New and Old World vintages and holds some good bargains.

In a kind of homage to the Devoti family’s onetime grocery store, a boutique market of sorts is located alongside the bar. All those wonderful cheeses are available, along with olives, olive oil, and fresh bread. A semiprivate room is perfect for small dinner gatherings.

The attitude is convivial enough, comfortable and relaxed. There is, however, a sense that the kitchen is serious about ingredients and presentations. Dinner is enjoyable. It also represents some very fine culinary connoisseurship—for instance, those roasted potatoes.

The Bottom Line: New American offerings in an intimate neighborhood setting