Great Capers
A proven team pulls off yet another success.
(page 3 of 7)
The unique fried polenta sandwich resembled an artful mozzarella stick. It even tasted a bit like one until the layers of creamy polenta began to spread across the palate. There’s no bread in the sandwich, only layers of fontina cheese, spinach, marinara sauce and polenta. The textural play of crispy outside and creamy inside worked, and it got better toward the center.
Capers & Lemons also does handmade pasta. Agnolotti filled with spinach and ricotta was my first choice. The agnolotti itself, sort of a rustic cousin of ravioli, had a firm al dente bite and fresh flavor. I tried a few other shapes, namely linguine in the puttanesca) and capellini (in the scampi), and they shared the same wonderful traits. The agnolotti was dressed in a sweet mushroom sauce that left me wanting more.
If nothing else, C&L could hang its hat on great gourmet pizza and pasta, but there’s so much more.
Braciole lived up to the hype. The hand-rolled beef cutlet arrived fork tender atop a bed of polenta. The tomato-based braising liquid, given sweetness and body from chunks of carrot, revealed the time and care that went into the dish.
Chicken picatta—a pivotal dish, considering its main flavors come from capers and lemons—was mostly successful. The chicken breast was as tender as chicken gets, and the sauce was solid. The accompanying mashed potatoes seemed in need of garlic and were slightly undercooked, however. I’d have preferred pasta as a side.
Rare disappointments with the food can usually be explained by the kitchen’s dedication to simplicity. Scampi Romano and pasta fagioli were perfectly fine, but seemed a bit boring next to the deeper flavors of braciole and other dishes. The Romano-crusted chicken—a breaded chicken cutlet aside linguine in blush sauce—was a letdown. Bruschetta, made simply with diced tomatoes, onion and sweet basil, was delicious, but it arrived with crostini on the side, some assembly required. Ever tried wrangling diced tomatoes with a fork? It’s like eating peas with a knife.
Page 4: Great Capers, continues...

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