Big Night

Bocca Osteria Romana, 411 S Main St, Fort Worth. 817-386-4812. 11am-5pm Sun, 4-9pm Mon-Thu, 4-10pm Fri-Sat.

Locating Bocca Osteria Romana plays out like a European experience of Old-World charm. Walk down an alley under crisscrossing garden bulbs connecting historic buildings on South Main and enter an open-air courtyard, where during sunset recently guests were merrily drinking wine and dining.

At the host stand of what was formerly a West Texas-exported winery, a dry erase board announces that Bocca is bringing “authentic Italian flavors to Fort Worth,” which seems innocent enough if your expectations include Rome, Tuscany, Sicily, or Naples. Research, though, points to the original Bocca Osteria … in San Juan, Puerto Rico.

I had questions. Starting with the décor.

On the walls, the bucolic landscapes and scenes seemed more fitting for a nursing home than a nice restaurant, and a random Campari poster had found its way to the dining room, not the bar, where you would expect it. There’s also a mural of what could be perceived as a soccer player next to an Italian flag. Not everyone has an eye for design just as not everyone can cook, and that’s OK. The food and drinks are what matter most, so let’s get to those.

Bocca’s impressive cocktail menu leans heavily into classic Italian beverages: six types of spritzes and five different negronis, everything rounded out by a collection of Bocca’s own cocktails. My guest and I started with the simple three-ingredient negroni (equal parts Campari, gin, and dry vermouth, garnished with orange). Arguably one of the best cocktails on the planet, Bocca’s delivered a whirlwind of floral, bitter, and sweet notes to swish around in your mouth. We also tried the bianco, the negroni’s more approachable French sister in which the Campari and vermouth are swapped for Lillet Blanc and Suze. Magnifico.

On the antipasti portion of the menu, I wanted to skip the popular items (meatballs, bruschetta) for something new, something adventurous. Our server talked us into the focaccia rossa, due to its 48-hour fermentation process and because it’s made fresh daily. Pillowy bread with a layer of tomato sauce came with a plate of oil and balsamic for dipping, and it was phenomenal. Like a double-edged sword, the focaccia was both the apex of our dinner and the beginning of a downward spiral.

Staying with the antipasti, we also ordered the supplì al telefono, la stracciatella, and prosciutto e melone. Without the ability to properly pronounce any of these dishes, we relied on finger pointing. The supplì al telefono, fried balls filled with tomato risotto, mozzarella, and pecorino, were delectable enough, but the red sauce under the croquettes overwhelmed everything — including, as we would soon discover, our entire meal. Warning: The good folks at Bocca really like their red sauce and put it on just about everything. By the end of our dinner, we were just bored with it.

Anyway, la stracciatella — the mound of fior di latte curds and cream topped with arugula (another overused ingredient) made for a fresh contrast to the croquettes. Served with heirloom tomatoes and peaches, the dish included an herbaceous pesto that livened up every bite and defeated any suggestion of monotony.

Buried under another garden of arugula, slices of cantaloupe and honeydew covered in thin slices of prosciutto accompanied berries and plenty of balsamic drizzle to go around. Wanting to like the prosciutto e melone became daunting because it was just too much — too much fruit, too much arugula, too much meat, too much balsamic. Maybe less would be more in this case.

The primi phase of the menu read like a list of classic noodle and pasta dishes. Nothing jumped out as particularly chefy or edgy, but that’s not what Bocca is trying to accomplish. They just want to show an appreciation for the downhome flavors of Italy, no gimmicks necessary.

I ordered one of my favorites, the gnocchi, and my guest, a classically trained chef from Seattle, ordered one of theirs, the bucatini with bacon. Probably the most Fort Worth thing on the menu, it just fell flat. The chunks of smoky pork overtook every bite, and the abundance of that red sauce did not help. Perhaps a less potent meat such as diced or shaved pancetta with freshly chopped basil minus a couple scoops of sauce would have worked better. Thankfully, the thick pasta was cooked perfectly al dente.

The gnocchi were not. Though fluffy, they were dense and chewy. The daily ragu was more reminiscent of a minced beef stew that left a puddle of liquid under the little potato-based pasta dumplings.

My guest and I were glad we passed on the rigatoni, because when we saw it served to other diners, it was smothered in red sauce.

Atmosphere? Bocca is fantastic for a date or a celebration. Cocktails? Same. Décor? Meh. Food? Could be better, though Bocca probably doesn’t care what we think — based on a couple of visits and word of mouth, the dining room has no problem staying packed.

Bocca Osteria Romana
Gnocchi $24
Bucatini $20
Supplì al telefono $8
La stracciatella $14
Prosciutto e melone $14
Focaccia Rossa $9
Negroni $14