Dining Review: Miso Mozza in Providence

Is it Italian? Or is it Asian? This new Federal Hill hot spot merges the best of both worlds into Itameshi cuisine.

2 hours ago

Karen Deutsch,

American wagyu picanha. Photography by Angel Tucker

Fusion food often gets a bad rap — not undeservedly — because restaurants have taken two unrelated cuisines and forced a bad marriage on them.

Toro truffle crispy rice. Photography by Angel Tucker

But the roots of fusion food come from organic geographic journeys: Nikkei cuisine was born when the first Japanese immigrants settled in Peru on the cusp of the 20th century, merging their own culinary techniques with Peruvian ingredients. Two million Italians emigrated to Argentina between 1880 and 1920, bringing with them pasta, pizza and panettone, which remain fully integrated and part of Argentinian culture. Even New Orleans gave birth to Creole and Cajun food, an amalgam of its distinctly varied European, Caribbean and African population.

And then there’s Itameshi cuisine — a hybrid of Italian and Japanese food that was both spontaneous (due to an influx of soldiers in World War II) and willful (after the economic struggles of the late 20th century created an appetite for comforting and casual food). Itameshi may not be as well-known, but it’s manifesting cross-cultural identity as it settles onto Federal Hill in the kitchen of Miso Mozza. The restaurant is helmed by chef and owner, Wanchai Intawong (with partner Jose Garcia). Intawong may not have a tremendous number of Itameshi mentors, but he makes up for it with focused perspective.

The restaurant itself is part midcentury aesthetic and part ode to the ocean. The former expresses itself in bronze-edged tables and leather seating, but it’s the sea that dominates in aqua tile trim, undulating wooden waves and blown-bubble pendants that skirt the ceiling. The theme works because the heart of Miso Mozza is seafood, largely raw.

Specialty hand rolls: toro, lobster bomb and black cod. Photography by Angel Tucker

Chicken parm with molten cheese. Photography by Angel Tucker

But the kitchen is still situated on Atwells Avenue, and it plays to the neighborhood. There’s a crispy chicken cutlet that morphs into a Parm when the server appears with a tray of molten cheese and tomatoes that gets poured on top tableside. (“Do you want to get your camera out to video this?” he asks. “A lot of people do.”) There’s also a Bolognese-style pasta ($32), but this is a kitchen that stretches the status quo, even when the parameters are distinctly Japanese — and that’s where the biggest rewards lie.

Uni (sea urchin) is served like oysters: as shooters with Champagne mignonette and bright yuzu jelly ($9). It’s a single slurpy bite of Intawong’s vision. Part New England, part European, part Asian, and all a happy concoction. Uni shows up all over the menu, as does tuna. Dramatic stone bowls are filled with a gochujang-tossed bluefin tuna ($21) and seasonal fruit to temper the heat. A crispy rice cracker stands like a sail in the spicy tartar, the combination of which begs for a cocktail and there are plenty.

These, too, are elixirs of hybridization: Sweet strawberry margaritas are tempered by matcha and miso, while the Berry King features three types of alcohol (vodka, sake, Midori) that — mixed with lemon and lime juices — still manages to go down like Kool-Aid. But if you’re into an old-school blend, you can always default to the cabernet and Coke.

Tuna belly shows up on crispy squares of sushi rice ($22) and, while the dish is traditional, it is served with a truffle kabayaki sauce that at least hints of Italian influence. It comes on a platter with four large squares, which you’ll want to eat far into the recesses of the night when you shouldn’t be eating at all. It’s perhaps the most addictive of the offerings, simple but well executed and exactly the reason Americans love Japanese food with such ardor.

Mac and cheese miso pancetta. Photography by Angel Tucker

Other small dishes include charcoal-fired wagyu skewers with chimichurri sauce ($24), which brings very little Asian identity except for the lacquered surface of the fatty beef vaguely reminiscent of the bright red ribs that appeared on pupu platters fifty years ago. (It’s another dish that will fill you with late-night, alcohol-infused longing.)

The larger dishes are a more overt amalgam of Italian and Japanese ingredients and techniques. Pan-seared branzino is prepared piccata-style ($39) but, in this rendition, the tartness comes from yuzu instead of lemon. Pasta is made daily and occasionally sticks to its roots (as with a Bolognese-style ragu topped with foie gras butter), but there are welcome surprises.

The pancetta mac and cheese ($24) is balanced by a healthy dose of umami-rich miso, while the carbonara is almost entirely a reinvention. Though it has a recognizably creamy backdrop, it comes from a base of uni (which also tops the spaghetti), with salty elements coming from salmon roe and seaweed. It’s not so much about making an Italian dish into an Asian interpretation as much as a full-fledged metamorphosis.

Perhaps the most pronounced interpretations at Miso Mozza, however, are the hand rolls. Most have nothing to do with Italian inspiration, but they are modernized enough to call them fusion. Hand rolls are served like tacos, in small wooden holders that display ingredients like a sunbather sprawled out on a blanket.

The interior of Miso Mozza. Photography by Angel Tucker

The lobster bomb ($16) is an icy-cold New England lobster roll that trades its hot dog bun for nori, but with all the nostalgia and charm of the original. A black cod roll doused with miso butter cream ($11) brings back the first days at Nobu, full of wonder and decadence. Each roll is about three bites, but worth the investment, as it’s the easiest way to hit the full spectrum of disparate flavors.

There are a lot of ways to traverse the menu here, leaning toward one cuisine or another, if that’s your goal. But the best route is through small plates (and those are certainly more Japanese than Italian or American as far as portions go). Fortunately, the last small(ish) bite is still worth getting: two tiny triangular wedges of cheesecake laced with yuzu are both bright and indulgent. It manages to embody Miso Mozza in a single expansive bite — and makes it clear that cross-cultural food is always welcome when it both admires things as they have been and embraces what they might be.