Madison and Fifth

On Sunday I ate lunch with Katie, Darius and Dan at Madison and Fifth, an Italian restaurant on Palo Alto’s University Avenue, a short drive from campus. Before we had even entered the restaurant, I was pleased by the clearly deliberate effort its managers had made to make the restaurant inviting: barring a few wooden supports, the front of the restaurant was entirely open to the sidewalk, with chairs and tables both in front of and behind the line where one could imagine a wall’s presence. In a sense, we were in the restaurant before we were inside the restaurant, and due to the pleasant weather, those eating just outside the building’s walls were clearly enjoying their surroundings.

Inside, the walls were covered from eye-level and above with mirrors, creating a feeling of ample space--a characteristic that worked in concert with the restaurant’s open front to make the establishment feel much larger than its narrow (and certainly pricey) lot would typically allow.

The most impressive parts of our meal, from my perspective, were our two appetizers: Caprese, a dish that combined mozzarella, tomato and basil with several seasonings, and sauteed calamari. In both cases (and throughout the rest of our meal), presentation was highly important to those preparing the food. The Caprese dish was organized in triangular fashion, with evenly spaced slices of tomato symmetrically adorned by olive oil and dollops of pesto. The calamari was colorful, even substantially decorative; the purple squid and chunks of green avocado and red tomato were oddly reminiscent of the multi-colored hanging lamps and various mural-style paintings around the room. While the buildings fundamentals--its floor, its chairs, its basic paint, its plates--were rather plain, there seemed to be touches of color, dashes of energy spread frequently throughout, both on the walls and in the air (in the case of the paintings and lamps)--and even in the food. While the calamari was a buffet of colors on a plain white plate, the main-course Penne Strascicate was served on a sparkling white hybrid plate-bowl. In the center, there was a deepening which contained the penne, but extending outward from the actual food, to an unusual extent, was a plate shaped disk, a sort of purifying border between the food and the complications of the table. The penne itself had a surprising vibrancy of color as well, but in this case--unfortunately--the attractiveness of the food surpassed its tastiness: the penne resulted rather bland, and disappointingly soft, even mushy. The calamari, on the other hand, matched its own attractiveness with a pleasant combination of flavors and textures, as did the Caprese.

As is the case with any restaurant, Madison and Fifth’s goal was to attract and please its customers. Its particular method traded on the notions of variety and vibrancy: in food, in decoration, and in setting (both indoors and outdoors, along a much-traveled avenue). Though Italian restaurants, like other restaurants that pertain to specific types of cuisine, mustn’t necessarily trade on variety (certain menu options are predictably expected and provided), Madison and Fifth seemed to be attempting to move beyond the label of Italian restaurant. Apart from the menu, Italian references could hardly be discovered. Situated in a trendy location, the restaurant tries to call out to those in the mood for any food. It called out to us with its paintings, open-air design, and colorful atmosphere, so we might say that even before the meal began, this work of art had already achieved some success.