First Impressions: Underground Kitchen
Years of living with the specter of an economic meltdown that could quickly turn into a Mad Max-style dystopia add resonance to efforts by expert butcher-chefs at the new Underground Kitchen (127 E Mifflin St., 608-514-1516). Fresh and local foods prepared by a band of self-sufficient, punk rock-informed survivalists are exactly what the zeitgeist calls for, right? But don’t wait for the apocalypse; we can get better cheeses now, before bands of crossbow-wielding, motorcycle-driving maniacs take over everything.
The space: The Kitchen’s room retains the essential form of previous occupants Café Montmartre, but it’s all sanded down and re-buffed, creating a lighter, more airy, open space. The old stage area now houses tables, which will provoke a sad sniff from old-timers, as so many shows at Momo over the years, from Ben Sidran to the Know-It-All Boyfriends, have passed into Madison legend.
The service: Mostly solicitous, if too laid-back. No one likes to resort to waving down a server, arm flailing embarrassingly in the air, or even to think about it.
The A.V. Club’s food: The cheese board is a taste pop skull: plum reduction and organic honeycomb with baguette crusts mixed with soft, tangy Brebis from Butler Farmstead, or a smoky and sublime Moody Blue from Roth Käse produces a riot on the taste buds. The smoldering, complex, long-lasting Alpine Renegade from Bleu Mont Dairy stands on its own—a chunk thrown right down the gullet is like an affirmation of life itself—but, too, neatly fits bread like hand in glove. “Deconstructed Caesar,” with bigger-than-usual anchovies draped over toasted, hardening bread, nestling against a choke of romaine lightly dusted in dressing, and clotted with a snow of Parmesan cheese, is tangy, intense, sharp, and acidic. Crudités were addictive pickled vegetables: broccoli; crisp, fat carrots; and beets—and beets are a tough sell outside of borscht. Salty-tart-tasty, but unfocused, chicken “oysters and hearts” with buttermilk is less successful in presentation, strewn too aimlessly over parsley and microgreens. But warmed spinach salad with sherry vinaigrette feels subversive: Caramelized apples are almost hot, and spicy Andouille sausage makes savory war on bitter and savory pickled red onions. Breathtaking, pillowy ricotta gnocchi is set off by oyster and shiitake mushrooms and peas in sage butter, a revelation of light touches on a usually heavy dish.
The verdict: Food here is raw, powerful, direct, vigorous, but also delicate, a taste approximation of Bowie’s “Aladdin Sane”-era shows. But, like Bowie’s mid-’70s output, the energy of the execution is matched by highly innovative menu authorship.
