Oops. I did that thing where I kept forgetting about a local restaurant simply because it’s been there forever.
I mean, locals find comfort in there-forever businesses in Santa Fe, no question, but sometimes we tend to overlook them and think to ourselves something like, “Eh, it’s not going anywhere, I’ve got time.” But then you find yourself all amped up after seeing a bunch of Alphonse Mucha art at Vladem Contemporary, hungry and downtown on a Friday night without a reservation. Luckily, the folks at Andiamo (322 Garfield St., (505) 995-9595) obliged, and my companion and I were seated at the bar within moments of our arrival—and it mostly got better from there.
First, a brief history: According to the restaurant website, the adorable little building that houses Andiamo Sprung up in 1880, which is probably well before it was called Garfield Street, but who’s counting? For a long time, I assume, nothing happened in there, at least not of consequence—or at least until owner-founder Joan Gillcrist opened her cozy, jaunty little spot in 1995 with chef Chris Galvin. Galvin has long since left Andiamo, and there have been other chefs in the kitchen since then. Perhaps most notably, however, is that Jill’s sister Marion Gillcrist is currently at the helm, and she clearly knows what she’s doing.
As I said, we were seated insanely fast for showing up around 6 pm on a summertime Friday. Of course, the bar is almost nobody’s favorite way to dine out, but Andiamo’s is trés cute and can only reasonably fit about four people, maybe five if they squeezed together hard. Cute or not, the bartender that evening was visibly none-too-pleased by our arrival, and though I can understand how stressful it must be to add dinner for two to your already busy night of drinkmaking, I did not particularly enjoy the curtness. This bartender was absolutely timely and made no mistakes whatsoever, it just felt very mechanical and like we were burdensome. I’m precisely who you want in your section, too, as I will eat quickly and leave immediately and I will tip you well no matter what happens. Perhaps the lack of friendliness came down to neither of us ordering booze or sparkling water, but if these concepts are an issue for Andiamo’s waitstaff, maybe they could simply not offer bar seating?
Those concerns quickly melted away, however, as we perused the menu. Andiamo’s is an interesting one that offers Italian hits ranging from comfort food to elevated takes on classic dishes and fun little surprises. Present, of course, are no-brainer choices like fried calamari, spaghetti bolognese and tiramisu (and though we didn’t sample the wines or cocktails, we did take note of how many local brands—like Tumbleroot and Santa Fe Spirits—make their way to the drinks menu). Chef Gillcrist also has a number of duck dishes on the menu that sounded lovely, plus some consummate must-haves like a ribeye steak, a grilled salmon and, of course, a Caesar salad.
We, however, had been craving specific tastes since the museum, which made an otherwise challenging selection process so much easier. I, for example, have had professionally prepared chicken on the mind ever since Dinner For Two’s Frenched chicken blew my mind last year, and seeing chicken piccata on the Andiamo menu ($26) felt like kismet (or at least another enticing chicken meal at a popular restaurant). My dinner companion was (and remains, actually) a bit of a mushroom fiend, so coming across a fettuccine dish with portabello and cremini mushrooms, plus spinach, tomato, fried artichokes and truffle oil ($24), practically made them tear up. Still, we had to begin with a starter, and the crispy polenta ($10) did not disappoint. Think of it almost like cornbread in its texture, but with just the right level of creaminess inside, beyond the crisp. This polenta came in a small pool of gorgonzola sauce that added a mild buttery tang. A+ for the polenta, Andiamo.
As for our mains, allow me to sing their praises. My companion’s pasta dish was a real mushroomy number as I’ve said, and one that displayed chef Cillcrist’s pasta prowess quite nicely. Through pilfered bites, I learned that Andiamo’s cremini were among the most flavorful I’ve tasted anywhere, and the same goes for the portobellos. I have to assume the restaurant’s mushroom shopping protocols are stringent, as these were not only bursting with outrageous flavor, but each bore an almost meat-like texture that could’ve swayed the most ardent carnivore. The fried artichoke added a little crisp, too, and a hint of what you might call citrus-esque taste. When melded with Andiamo’s house-made pasta, the quality was clear, and you can even get any pasta dish gluten-free at no extra cost should you desire.
My chicken piccata, meanwhile, was a fine example of the storied dish. In my restaurant days, more than one chef told the tale of the piccata—one that likely originated in America in the 1920s or ’30s within Italian immigrant communities. This one’s about as comfort food-core as comfort food gets. Probably that’s about the signature lemony butter sauce, but the sautéed spinach in Gillcrist’s hands was such an earthy delight that it almost outshone the chicken—almost. Andiamo’s take on the classic dish boasts a chicken breast so tender and well-cooked and aligned to augment the flavor of the butter sauce that I’m having trouble getting it out of my head even now, days later. And I was, indeed, comforted.
For dessert, we settled on chocolate smothered profiteroles with vanilla bean ice cream in place of the more common thick whipped cream or custard. And though the ice cream was a real stand-out in terms of creaminess and strong vanilla flavor, the pastry itself erred a bit too far into density. To be fair, choux is a real challenge at our altitude, and had we been smarter, we might have followed our instincts and ordered the dreamsicle with that same vanilla ice cream and a fresh fruit ice, but now we know and have yeat another reason to return. Even so, the entire experience made clear how Andiamo has been able to keep it going for decades now. Our entire bill clocked in at around $75, too, which is none too shabby for such an elevated experience, especially downtown. I won’t make the mistake of taking Andiamo for granted again.
Dining and Cooking