Aldo ElSharif was a chef to watch before his name went above the door. Presaging the current mania for things Tuscan, the Egypt-born, Milan-bred transplant built the first incarnation of Buttarazzi's on intelligent Northern Italian cooking and reserved, mannered service, and the buzz that radiated from his kitchen on FM 1960 summoned enthusiasts from as far away as The Woodlands and Montrose.
Word of his culinary prowess -- and undeniably magnetic personality -- leaked into my neighborhood via an accomplished amateur cook whose habit of asking waiters knowledgeable questions about food preparation got an unprecedented response at Buttarazzi's: The chef emerged to thank him for his interest, then took him on an animated tour of the kitchen, complete with samplings of imported ingredients.
With the opening of Aldo's Dining Con Amore on lower Westheimer early last year, ElSharif made more than a geographic move. He stepped out of the periphery to center stage, where his natural graciousness and genial self-promotion erupted on impact into a one-man show. As chef and occasional host, head waiter and reservationist, he's turned one of the last elegant houses on the strip into a haven for pampering that borders on the decadent, with prices that cross that extreme.
His fare is still Italian, but without any pretense of modesty. Pastas are made not by just any hands, but, in the menu's own words, "Chef Aldo's." There's admirably tender chicken and veal, impeccably fresh fish and wild game, all graced by the mind-blowingly complex sauces that are one of ElSharif's fortes. Schmoozing is another; it takes an act of will to withstand his enthusiastic descriptions of his daily specials, delivered with an engaging smile and mesmerizing accent. Even when delivered by a less charismatic messenger -- which sometimes happens, alas -- the luscious, ornate concoctions sound impossible to resist.
Keeping an eye on the prices might shore up that backbone. Though pastas run less, and can be ordered appetizer-sized, entrees run from $14.95$39.95; daily specials of fish and game are advertised at market price, which has come in at a tidy $29.95 on four separate occasions over the past year.
Prices like that set up equally heady expectations for both taste and service. For the most part, ElSharif gives his well-paying clientele its due. Playing off the inherent grandeur of the building, which is full of the wide, unmitred molding that flourished 80 years ago, he's created a relaxed, elegant setting, in which recorded operatic arias give way weekend nights to a harpist. What began as seven tables has mushroomed to maybe 12, sprinkled among the porch, parlor and dining room of the old house. Within these forest green walls, time circumvents usual perception: The music, the unrushed service and the expansive stuffed chairs encourage a restfulness so thorough that hours pass gently.
The magic's greatest when ElSharif is afoot. In the early days, he was an inescapable presence throughout a meal -- accepting the inevitable compliments with leonine grace and rarely leaving the periphery of a diner's vision. The key to an extraordinary experience was jettisoning the printed menu and ordering whichever special he seemed the most excited about.
The specials are still the best bet, but ElSharif's recommendation is not always accessible as a guidepost. Increasingly, he's handing over customer contact duties to others, who are polite and competent but simply not as captivating. A dinner takes off when he stops by to offer effusive greetings, while the unobtrusive staff welcomes with a platter of cheeses, grilled vegetables and smoked salmon so flavorful it needs no adornment. When he doesn't acknowledge the presence of customers, as happened during my last lunch, the experience depends all the more on the merits of the cooking.
Fortunately, the main dishes make good the promise of dazzle. Pollo in affinocchiato charms with a rich brandy sauce, which envelops a butter-soft chicken breast laden with fennel and porcini mushrooms. While the very tender veal of the scaloppine al funghi has little inherent taste of its own, it's a sturdy base for the sensory fireworks that surround it: meaty mushrooms, including florets of chanterelles, and a dry vermouth sauce teeming with aromatic vegetables and a hint of sweetness usually associated with burgundy.
With the specials, Aldo's sauces become more elaborate and breathtaking. Like their scaloppine cousins, veal medallions enjoy a happily smothered fate, graced by handfuls of crabmeat and porcini mushrooms and a dark, savory base with a touch of cream and garlic. Bluenose fish soars with a hearty shrimp stock mixed with golden raisins, Key lime and Frangelico; crabmeat, lobster and an atomic-size prawn are bonuses. The same citrusy, liqueur-laced reduction, specked with golden raisins and dried apricots, softens a massive slab of albacore, and the dulcet concoction works wonders as well on the crab and shrimp topping. A powerfully sweet mix of berries forms the unusual sauce that's usually paired with game, which, the last time I had it, was a mix-and-match of boar, elk and kangaroo.
Pastas are equally rich and heavy, but more variable. Pine nuts and grilled tomatoes enliven the crescent-shaped pasta agnolotti alla musica, while black olives overwhelm the sun-dried and roma tomatoes of the penne al fratello.
