Little Treats, Even Better When Fried

ANYTIME Anne Burrell gets near hot oil, I want to be around. The woman can fry. And if that doesn’t sound like a real achievement, or a real compliment, you’re not getting out much. There’s some nasty, soggy, greasy business out there.

But not at the new Italian restaurant Centro Vinoteca, where Ms. Burrell, her messy blond hair held up by a glittering headband, jitters and skitters through a tiny open kitchen like a punk rocker doing a panting encore. Some of her energy is going to waste. Not the energy that’s going into frying.

Here’s the ordering guide you need for Centro Vinoteca: if you see the word fried, or if you see any apparent derivation of the Italian word fritto (which means fried), or if you see a word that calls to mind either of those other ones (e.g. fritter), get whatever it’s attached to. And get anything else that you suspect may be fried.

With this strategy you’ll find your way to the small whole cippolini onions, each wearing a crisp wisp of a casing that speeds you to the inside, which pops juicily in your mouth. And to the wedges of fried cauliflower, whose thicker casing carries the sharp, salty punch of a generous dose of Parmesan.

The arancine, or fried rice balls, have none of the leadenness that afflicts many of their kin. But they have an exterior-interior contrast similar to the onions’, only what’s inside is a molten mix including fontina and ham.

All of these treats appear on a special card titled piccolini, which means very small things, that you’re given as soon as you sit down. It’s a big moment right now for very small things, which permit the very persuasive illusion that you’re eating only very small amounts while you’re in fact racking up very large quantities of food.

It’s wise to linger over the piccolini — the best of which include a pistachio-flecked mortadella spread and figs stuffed with Gorgonzola — partly because they’re so enjoyable and partly because the subsequent appetizers, pasta dishes and main courses chart a bumpier course. Both on and off the plate, Centro can alternately elate and deflate you.

It’s owned by Sasha Muniak, who also operates the Mangia chain and, more to the point, Gusto, another Italian restaurant in Greenwich Village. To oversee the kitchen, he recruited Ms. Burrell, whose résumé includes time at Felidia, in Italy and — the current era’s crowning touch — on TV. She works as Mario Batali’s sous-chef on “Iron Chef America.”

To design the restaurant, Mr. Muniak tapped Thomas Juul-Hansen, who transformed Perry St. into a pale, minimalist jewel. Centro has a similarly spare glamour, its chocolate-colored banquettes set against white brick walls. From the ceiling dangle sparkly, translucent chandeliers that reminded me of the crystalline ice cave that Marlon Brando’s character inhabited in “Superman.” Centro is where Jor-El would get his salumi misti.

The restaurant’s pedigree, flourishes and consciousness of trends (not just salumi and piccolini but also the availability of many thoughtfully selected wines by the quartino instead of the glass) announce its determination to be a bona fide hot spot.

So does the lack of any discernible effort to diminish the screeching noise on the main, street-level floor, where the crowd around the semicircular bar leaves you almost no room for loitering if your table isn’t ready. Try to get seated upstairs. Grovel. Trade your firstborn child if it’s the only way.

An annoyance in addition to the deafening commotion is the presentation of that piccolini card apart from the rest of the menu, so that you can’t evaluate your interest in these snacks, which take on a compulsory air, before you’ve seen your other options. Is this method designed to guarantee larger aggregate food orders and higher tabs?

The menu itself doesn’t prompt such cynical thoughts. More than the chefs at many other Italian newcomers downtown, Ms. Burrell fashions bold dishes meant to snap you to attention instead of cautious ones that lull you into complacency. I admired her approach even when the results disappointed me.

I wasn’t wowed by an appetizer of what she calls calamari noodles, which turned squid into squiggly strands that were a textural disaster. Without any sear, char or crunch on the outside, the calamari was just plain wormy.

A much better starter of braised oxtail cakes captured the gusto and up-to-the-precipice saltiness of some of Ms. Burrell’s best cooking. The big-flavored ingredients on top of a thin-crusted, super-crunchy rectangular pizza appetizer included stracchino cheese in place of mozzarella and spicy pork sausage.

In tune with these times, she’s a pig-and-sausage lover, and this serves the best of a number of excellent pasta dishes. A tangle of pici — like much thicker, hand-rolled spaghetti — stood up nicely to a sweet and spicy pork sausage ragù whose forcefulness and liberal application would have overwhelmed a flimsier noodle. Crispy nuggets of guanciale, along with a pleasant degree of heat from peperoncino, worked magic in bucatini all’amatriciana.

But Ms. Burrell went overboard with a sloppy, heavy amalgam of lamb Bolognese, fried onions and fried gnocchi — it’s the fried exception that proves the fried rule. Her judgment erred as well with overly bitter broccoli rabe and Swiss chard ravioli.

It’s revealing that among the main courses, a bony, limp-skinned baby chicken and two kinds of fish — mushy skate, overcooked red snapper — paled next to juicy slices of rib eye and my favorite entree, a mixture of rabbit, pork sausage (again!) and pine nuts pressed into thick, broad coins.

You obviously have to plan for dessert, and for two reasons you should. One is the cappuccino panna cotta — a loose pudding, really — that’s given accents that cleverly touch on, and bring together, elements of cappuccino: chocolate-covered espresso beans, a salty chocolate and cinnamon shortbread cookie. Another is a silky, subtly tangy goat-cheese cake.

As best I could tell, nothing on the dessert list is fried. Among other possible adjustments, Centro Vinoteca may want to revisit that.

Centro Vinoteca

*

74 Seventh Avenue South (Barrow Street), West Village; (212) 367-7470,

ATMOSPHERE A frenetic downstairs area with 10 seats at a semicircular bar and about 40 at tables against a handsome window differs sharply from a calmer upstairs with about 32 seats.

SOUND LEVEL Downstairs, bone-rattling; upstairs, moderate.

RECOMMENDED DISHES Fried cippolini; fried cauliflower; arancine; mortadella pate; oxtail cakes; ricotta sformato; grilled pizza; pici with sausage ragù; bucatini all’amatriciana; rabbit; rib eye; cappuccino panna cotta; goat cheese cake.

WINE LIST Almost entirely Italian and nicely varied in terms of region and price, with about 20 wines by the quartino.

PRICE RANGE Dinner piccolini (snacks), $3 to $7; appetizers, $10 to $16; pasta dishes and main courses, $12 to $36; desserts, $8.

HOURS Noon to midnight seven days a week.

RESERVATIONS Call at least three weeks ahead for prime times.

CREDIT CARDS All major cards.

WHEELCHAIR ACCESS Entrance and main dining area on street level; restrooms not accessible.

WHAT THE STARS MEAN Ratings range from zero to four stars and reflect the reviewer’s reaction to food, ambience and service, with price taken into consideration. Menu listings and prices are subject to change.