I’m not going to beat a cavallo morto about College Park’s obsession with Italian cuisine, so I might as well just string the lights up over Edgewater Drive, invite the Gambinos to winter in the bungalows next to Buddy’s on Bryn Mawr, and lead the procession on the Feast of San Gennaro in Orlando’s very own Little Italy. Afterward, I’ll pop into Turci Pasta, throw my hands up and surrender to — what else? — pasta. It’s what this neighborhood restaurant, run by Brazilians of Italian heritage Nathalia Kalil and Vinicius Turci, is known for.
Here, fresh pasta is kneaded by floured hands and crafted inside a windowed cell with all the appeal of a Law & Order interrogation room. Through that glass pane, we spied a hardened pastaio rolling and cutting dough before a tied-and-vested gent brought her a stainless-steel bowl of purple sweet potatoes. DUN-DUN.
Naturally, an order for purple sweet potato stuffed gnocchi ($25) was duly placed, but only after I managed to make the white linen tablecloth look like a crime scene. The offender: a splatter of tomato-basil sauce from a suspect meatball ($10) appetizer. The five orbs veered toward the firm spectrum of meatballia. “Too springy,” said the pal, but it’s not like we banished the dish to the fringes of our soiled table either. No, the bouncy little balls were shown mercy and devoured as intended, along with shreds of rustic bread from Olde Hearth that made sopping great again.
Black truffle ravioli ($16), the pre-pasta pasta antipasti we really craved, was that moan-inducing dish that tends to turn heads in restaurants, all the more so in Turci’s alarmingly hushed space. Then again, it might’ve been the elevated decibel level of our conversations that shot glances our way. More than likely it was the subject matter of those conversations (see moan-inducing, above). The interior, it should be noted, has been completely redone to lend a bit more of a fine-dining vibe that its predecessor, Trevi Pasta, never had. It’s a space befitting the aforementioned ravioli, peppered and garlicked, and fattened with ricotta and asiago. The crowning jewels: two wee shavings of the prized spore and some crushed pistachios.
Back to those adorable gnocchi (gnocchi ripieni, really). They were set inside a metal pan pooled with a three-cheese sauce. Each of the mozz-filled purple rounds was sprinkled with breadcrumbs, grated parm and microgreens. Rich? For sure. But the muted flavors had me reaching for the Calabrian chili bottle in my mind. And some roasted garlic. And an herb, like mint, to make this alluring dish a real banger. Perhaps even a bolder cheese, like the gorgonzola that was stuffed inside the ravioli with pear and ricotta ($33). The pouches were smothered in the same three-cheese sauce and served with a whole pear poached in red wine to a velvety maroon. The Bosc sits on the other end of the plate, beached in pistachio crumbles, but the magic happens when both ravioi and pear are eaten together — don’t leave the fruit to the end like it’s dessert. Speaking of, desserts here ham it up. But a pre-dessert pappardelle lambed it up with a gorgeous shank ($45) seasoned with herbs, honey and Dijon atop thick-cut ribbons reddened with savory Italian comfort.
Turci’s rendition of tiramisu ($11) is served with a shot of espresso to be poured over the creamy treat. The ploy practically goads for influencers, but I didn’t mind this “tiramisu affogato” at all. Then again, it’s rare I meet a tiramisu I don’t like. Over the summer, pinch-hit reviewer Michael Murphy deemed a certain tableside tiramisu “unnecessary, like a tableside ham sandwich.” But what of Turci’s tableside cannoli ($8)? It’s no ham sandwich. Our gloved server adeptly piped ricotta cream with chocolate chips into the shell before dipping one end into crushed pistachios and the other in more chocolate chips. The shell itself was a bit hard, but flaked after a proper bludgeoning.
Given Turci’s carefully executed dishes, its wine list could stand to be deconstructed and curated beyond the brands available at your local supermarket. It’s likely all part of Turci’s aggressive growth plan, which includes Turci Panini next door, Turci Osteria Italiana (slated to open mid-2025 at Maitland City Centre) and Luca Turci Italian Restaurant, which has taken over the patently dreadful Braccia Ristorante in Winter Park. Each concept promises a unique take on Italian cuisine, and based on the foundation laid by Turci Pasta, I see a fair bit of boot-licking in my future.
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This article appears in Nov 27 – Dec 3, 2024.