Saturday night I remained happily in the company of my fun-loving family members. After traveling back at various times from New Hampshire, we reconvened at my apartment for some apertivi before making the walk over to Tresca Restaurant for a 7:30pm dinner reservation. The manager greeted us warmly and made friendly conversation as fourteen of us trickled in off an ever-crowded Hanover Street. We were lead up an elegant marble staircase to the second floor and settled into a table that ran the length of the balcony front windows. Tresca was bustling with a romantic yet lively energy, the restored old world Tuscan Villa atmosphere was a scene everyone could appreciate.
sourceThe signature antipasti plates were plentiful (and unphotographed, apologies.) The Polpette di Vitello consisting of crispy veal meatballs served with pomodoro and poached garlic and basil dipping sauces were excellent, easily the star of the antipasti plates. The Calamari Fritti garnished with pomodoro and spicy aioli sauce was a suitable preparation. I didn't care for the Spiedini di Agnello which are southern Italian marinated and grilled Lamb skewers; the flavors didn't hit home for me, neither did the texture of the lamb. 
Once our secondi course consisted of a Rigatoni Bolognese. The pasta at Tresca is handmade daily and the large coils of rigatoni were done to a perfectly toothsome al dente. The traditional northern style veal and pork ragout was hearty and flavorful, enriched with pancetta and tomatoes. The dish was finished with melted Parmesan cheese dusted with thinly sliced strands of basil. 
It was everything I would expect from a great bolognese, rustic with a refined simplicity.
Service was sufficient but not standout. I thought our waiter was pleasant, but not 100% on the ball. Normally, I wouldn't gripe about service woes for a party of fourteen, but for what Tresca aims to be - a fine dining establishment charging prices to fit the bill, I held them accountable to a higher standard. (For example, clearing plates timely in between courses.) Perhaps I set my expectations too high, since I know certain restaurants in the North End won't even consider taking reservations for parties as large as ours on a Saturday evening or at all. 
Once our secondi course consisted of a Rigatoni Bolognese. The pasta at Tresca is handmade daily and the large coils of rigatoni were done to a perfectly toothsome al dente. The traditional northern style veal and pork ragout was hearty and flavorful, enriched with pancetta and tomatoes. The dish was finished with melted Parmesan cheese dusted with thinly sliced strands of basil. 
It was everything I would expect from a great bolognese, rustic with a refined simplicity.
Service was sufficient but not standout. I thought our waiter was pleasant, but not 100% on the ball. Normally, I wouldn't gripe about service woes for a party of fourteen, but for what Tresca aims to be - a fine dining establishment charging prices to fit the bill, I held them accountable to a higher standard. (For example, clearing plates timely in between courses.) Perhaps I set my expectations too high, since I know certain restaurants in the North End won't even consider taking reservations for parties as large as ours on a Saturday evening or at all. 
The evident strain on the kitchen and restaurant as a whole were highlighted on a few more ocassions. First, it began to get hot. Really, really hot. The room appeared to be well ventilated, but whatever air was circulating from the ceiling vents was doing nothing to cool us down. Rarely, if ever, will you hear me complain about temperature, but I honestly can't recall a time I became so uncomfortably sweaty and hot in a restaurant. Second, my principali course was a disappointment entirely. The Selvaggio della Sera which is the chefs hand selected game special was Duck served with pear au jus, a rosemary polenta cake and pear salad. 
The waiter made sure to question if the chefs preparation of the duck medium rare would suffice. Duck cooked to medium rare is ideal, I was happy to oblige. The duck served to me was rare, with certain slices border-lining on completely raw in the center. 
This isn't an ahi tuna steak! To make matters worse, my (serrated) knife was met with an abrasive coarse exterior, the skin on certain slices impenetrable. The polenta cake was underwhelming and the sad looking pear slices were just that. They did nothing to elevate an already defeated duck. 
No one around me had this entree, but once I finally looked down to the other end of the table, my Mom and Aunt Cheryl were sending their duck back. At that point I had already poked an prodded and didn't have it in me to send mine back too, but I am glad they both did. Others who ordered the Seared Sea Bass, were the lucky recipients of a superb fish entree. They sang its praises. I did try a few bites and concurred with its greatness. However, to add insult to former injury, the Lobster Gnocchi (ordered by Adam and a few others) wasn't quite up to par. The usually plump and pillowy dumplings were tiny and meek in appearance and rather soggy in texture, overwhelmed by a thick cream sauce. It was so uninspiring I opted not to photograph. 
The waiter made sure to question if the chefs preparation of the duck medium rare would suffice. Duck cooked to medium rare is ideal, I was happy to oblige. The duck served to me was rare, with certain slices border-lining on completely raw in the center. 
This isn't an ahi tuna steak! To make matters worse, my (serrated) knife was met with an abrasive coarse exterior, the skin on certain slices impenetrable. The polenta cake was underwhelming and the sad looking pear slices were just that. They did nothing to elevate an already defeated duck. 
No one around me had this entree, but once I finally looked down to the other end of the table, my Mom and Aunt Cheryl were sending their duck back. At that point I had already poked an prodded and didn't have it in me to send mine back too, but I am glad they both did. Others who ordered the Seared Sea Bass, were the lucky recipients of a superb fish entree. They sang its praises. I did try a few bites and concurred with its greatness. However, to add insult to former injury, the Lobster Gnocchi (ordered by Adam and a few others) wasn't quite up to par. The usually plump and pillowy dumplings were tiny and meek in appearance and rather soggy in texture, overwhelmed by a thick cream sauce. It was so uninspiring I opted not to photograph. 
The traditional slices of Tiramisu for dessert were delicious, the espresso soaked lady fingers layered with rum infused mascarpone hit all the right notes. But the final course as a high point was not enough to have me shouting from the rooftops of redemption. 
I come from a family of positive, blissfully happy people who manage to, like me, enjoy themselves even through major kitchen downfalls and malfunctioning air conditioners. I still smile about the cocktails and the veal meatballs and the rigatoni bolognese, even after I was served raw duck and was sweating profusely from lack of proper ventilation. What I am trying to say is, while Tresca did manage to hit some high points, I was disappointed with the experience overall. In a fiercely competitive neighborhood you need to consistently deliver in order to become worthy of long lasting praise. You need to shine in every aspect of the experience and Tresca falls short. They can't all be Mamma Maria's, they can't all cook duck like Keith Pooler, and so it goes.
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