Field report: Osteria La Buca

The wee little La Buca is little no longer. There may be a big piece of plywood in the middle of the restaurant, but Osteria La Buca's expanded dining room is officially open for business. At least, I hope they are because I ate there over the weekend. (Yes, be very jealous.) 

Despite some hearty blog-sip about pending permits and on-the-sly spillover manuevers last week, by Saturday, it looked like everything was signed off and ready to go. Guests were only being seated in the new room, which feels cavernous in comparison to the mite that was the original space. Speaking of which, the adjacent 22 seats were sidelined.

As you can see, even with my sh*tty photography, the security gates were pulled over the windows "next door," although the expanded kitchen was firing on all cylinders. More on that later.

The owners hope to have the complete and unified room before Thanksgiving—though early December may be just as likely—at which time Osteria La Buca will be closed for about four to five days. When it's all said and done, Buca-lovers will have 100 seats to fight over. 

For now, floor-to-ceiling plywood boarded up the space between the new and old and the black and whites on the floor were obviously awaiting their final place...somewhere. There isn't much wall space anymore, what with the beautiful glass front and new bar. The wall opposite (not shown) has been left whitewashed, however, so that should be a good a place as any for the photos. Couldn't tell whether they are same ones that hung in the original space. 

The chandeliers made of wine bottles are definitely new. In fact, Osteria La Buca seems to be celebrating their new license with gusto—wine bottles are everywhere, hanging above and lining the walls. 

The bar is a lovely addition. It's just the perfect size for a neighborhood place like this. A couple guests got the right idea, eschewing a table and sidling up for a glass of vino and some antipasti. My date spied beer at the bar and tried to squeeze in an order—you know the saying "beer before wine..."—but I gave him the stinkeye and we called over for the wine list instead.

The inaugural wine list has been carefully curated—all Italian, certo—with about twice as many reds as whites, most of which range from the mid-30 to 90-dollar range for a bottle. Our server was knowledgeable and didn't shy away from my request for a more economical price point—hello, the holidays are coming and I've got to pull the purse strings. A Rosso di Montalcino was a worthy alternative to Brunello and bloomed brighter throughout the evening.

The kitchen must be handling triple the number of orders now in a given evening, and it seems up to the challenge. Our food was as good as ever—burrata, pappardelle in pesto, pizza with the spicy tomato sauce, all the usual suspects. 

I only regret being unable to check out the upstairs dining space. We could see the lucky ducks who got the lofted seating through the glass above the bar, and I was told later that there is a roof window. That sounds real pretty. This was the closest I came to the top:

I imagine the stacked tables aren't permanent fixtures, but I think I'm going to have to bum rush the stairs if I don't get a table up there next time. —Jiyeon Yoo