The Washington Post
Weekend
Friday, March 17, 2000
By Eve Zibart

     Argia's is the sort of restaurant that reminds you the word "amateur" comes from "lover." Because while this pretty and promising Falls Church Italian has a few professional lapses, none is very serious-and the kitchen clearly loves to cook. A tweak and a taste and it's good to go.

     Argia's really is a neighborhood trattoria. It's an offshoot of Arlington's popular restaurant/music club Rhodeside Grill, and its respect for the often underestimated culinary sensibilities of the older Northern Virginia suburbs is clear: It has a mixed hip and hospitable style that works for older diners, families with kids, music-circle friends, I-networking buddies and I-66 traffic casualties. (Although it's a natural assumption that "Argia" is a homophone of "R.G.," it's actually names for chef Steve Scott's Italian grandmother.)

     A former Mexican eatery in the heart of Falls Church's mini-night strip around the intersection of North Washington and Broad Street, it's now two long, deep rooms, with a comfortable but clearly upscale bar (single malts, grappas, less familiar wines by the glass) running parallel to the dining room. The walls have been sponged a warm zabaglione yellow; and a huge Renaissance mural, copied from the Sienna town hall and representing "the benefits of good government" (either a salute to the area's many governmental workers or an inside-the-Beltway joke, depending on your outlook) runs the length of the innermost wall. The front windows are a-dangle with breadbaskets, wooden spoons and the like (which might be more evocative if used rather than raw from the store, but hey) and other walls are checkered with the old-fashioned "family" photos that are now a trattoria staple. (I happen to like the Duke and Duchess of Urbino profiles that indicate the restrooms, but others have found their placement a little too subtle.)

     The one mixed blessing in the renovation is the ceiling: To increase the sense of space, the owners had the ceilings raised to their greatest possible height, exposing the dragon-like ventilation system. That's not a problem, but the din in the dining room is. After a while, you'd trade the pretty head space for a little personal head space.

     Still, Argia's has got most of it right-and that's how the food goes, too. The bread is very fine, herb-fragrant, chewy and crusty; the olive oil is unusually good, too. Most of the appetizers are good as well: mussels (either in white wine or marinara sauce); creamy polenta with mushroom ragu or the crispier polenta with cheese sauce; and special salads of sprouts and marinated mushrooms or smoked salmon and goat cheese, etc. The bruschetta plate (garlic, tomato-basil and white bean) is only mildly interesting but makes good bar fare.

     The pastas are well-timed, tender but not soggy, and well-sauced. That wild mushroom ragu, which also dresses the fettuccine and a risotto, gets a real workout. The risottos in general, mushroom and a daily change-up, are fine and creamy. The Tuscan chicken stew is a complaisant semi-cacciatore, mild enough for the kids; and the salads-which, like everything else on the menu, can be ordered in the "solo" or "famiglia" size-could be a meal.

     The real standout is the eggplant al formaggio, not the usual parmigiana but a lovely, clean-tasting layering of grilled eggplant slices, sweet goat cheese, tomato and herbs. Plan to go "famiglia" on that one by yourself.

     The big puzzlers at Argia's are the seasonings (scant), the presentations (stark), and the prices (mostly good, but some just a smidge more than they might be). When it comes to the final touches, it's as if there's a chef missing on the line. A perfectly cooked piece of cod arrives virtually naked and in sore need of, if not a fig leaf, a green herb, a little vermouth, lemon, something. Ditto the Chilean sea bass, which is gently browned but sits rather uncomfortably in a bath of already delicate tomato-saffron broth and escarole that seems to have been sautéed in oil before being popped in, further diluting the broth. Even the pastas want a wine bottle passed over them. And the braised ossobucco, though cut thin, presumably for quicker braising, was a ways short of falling off the bone.

     Though a bottle of wine was served with goblets, a single order arrived in a highball glass, which may be a nod to the venerable A.V.'s, but doesn't work. Also, it would be better if the staff made clear that side dished not only can be but really need to be ordered a al carte-another thing that makes the prices seem just a bit high.

     But then you get to the quirky desserts-oatmeal raisin ice cream and mango-champagne sorbet that ought to be required dining for Hagen-Dazs addicts-and go back for a little grappa, and you can see this joint is a real labor of love.

     And why not? If every restaurant were too polished, it would be a franchise.

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