2008 Fall Dining Guide
By Tom Sietsema
Washington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, Oct. 12, 2008

Is it a soap opera or a restaurant? Mio, with its delayed launch and numerous chef changes, qualifies as both. Nicholas Stefanelli is the current lead in the open kitchen, and he's doing a fine job in the downtown role. His plump roasted veal sweetbreads are some of the best around, and they're fashionably served with a swab of pureed celery root holding a crater of sage-scented brown butter sauce. Escolar is grilled to retain its succulence, treated to a kicky molasses sauce and rounded out with crisp golden tostones (fried plantains) tucked into the folds of a napkin. Specials can be just that, if one night's tender veal cheeks set on creamy grits are an indication. On occasion, the chef gets carried away: Beer foam, for example, is not the optimal garnish for a plate of lamb and cabbage. And some dishes are partial successes: I adore the thin plate of grated potatoes beneath a round of beef tartare, although the chopped meat needs stronger seasoning. If in doubt, stick to what's simple. Mio whips up a proper mojito and turns out an excellent chocolate pudding, scattered with toasted pine nuts for crunch. The food isn't the only attention-grabber. Mio's airy, multi-level room, which opens with a chic lounge, is as good for business as for pleasure, and the servers attend to your needs like the pros they are. The catch? Stefanelli is biding his time here until he can open a place of his own, to be called Hint, in upper Northwest sometime next year. So go now to taste what I'm talking about.

NOTE: Stefano Frigerio has resigned from Mio.

Landing on its Feet
At Mio, the search for a chef segues from predicament to opportunity

By Tom Sietsema
The Washington Post Magazine
Sunday, Feb. 17, 2008

Poor Mio. No sooner did its doors open last May than its chef had a change of heart, leaving owner Manuel Iguina in the lurch. He had little choice but to put his No. 2 guy in the top kitchen post, which the sous-chef didn't want, while looking for a replacement. Diners who dropped by Mio in its youth found a coolly attractive dining room and a menu that could soar or dip, depending on the day and who was at the helm; at one point, Iguina brought in a guest chef from Spain, who subsequently returned home. As recently as October, the forecast for Mio looked bleak.

Then something unexpected and wonderful happened. Stefano Frigerio had said arrivederci last spring to the four-star Maestro in Tysons Corner to pursue the dream of his own kitchen in Baltimore. But he says he discovered that the people who hired him to cook Italian there wanted "spaghetti and meatballs" rather than the haute cuisine he had learned to make during nine years as sous-chef under Fabio Trabocchi (Maestro's masterful chef, now at Fiamma in New York).

Six months into the gig in Charm City, Frigerio resigned.

The same week Frigerio quit, Iguina called.

Since January, when Frigerio came onboard, Mio has been serving the kind of food that finds you sitting up a little higher in your seat, eager to eat.

Some dishes -- a catfish sandwich at lunch -- are simple. Other recipes -- "beef carpaccio del Maestro" -- are complex. What the plates at the revived Mio all share is a high level of craftsmanship from a thoughtful artist.

If you never made it to Maestro before the dining room in the Ritz-Carlton closed in August, Mio is your chance to taste what some of the fuss was about. Frigerio reprises a few of his former employer's indulgences, tweaking the presentations to conform to his new environment. Thus, prime beef tenderloin stands in for Kobe beef in his carpaccio. Otherwise, the appetizer bears a striking resemblance to what was served at Maestro. Ruddy slices of rare meat are wrapped around marinated tofu and placed upright on their plate, each tiny tower capped with minced mushrooms and a Parmesan wafer or a sunny quail egg.

Another dish that suggests sophisticated origins is a dramatic "duo of hamachi," staged as dewy ceviche turbocharged with minced jalapeno and a "chop" from the loin of the fish, which is lightly grilled and arrives with a fine white bone protruding from it. Invigorating the scene is a bracing lemon sorbet, a snowlike scoop ringed with fruity olive oil.

Frigerio isn't overloading patrons with flights of fancy. Wisely, he keeps his menu short. Mio is a restaurant that refrains from using tablecloths but has every intention of impressing you. Too many restaurants feel compelled to serve chicken; this one bothers to offer pheasant, too, moist as can be and decked out with squiggly wands of fried parsnip. Venison is commonplace this season, but nowhere has it been better displayed than at Mio, where scarlet slices of juniper-marinated meat are interspersed with sheer coins of barely cooked cauliflower -- humble ingredients given a promotion. Luscious as the centerpiece is, it's bested on the china by dainty lengths of pasta filled with braised venison and rich foie gras. (Too bad there are only two pieces per plate.) Lamb is served two ways: as a roseate rack flecked with fresh thyme and as shaved leg meat over "crushed" potatoes laced with olive oil. Both are so appealing that you'll be glad they're offered together as a main course.

Mio's flaws are few. Occasionally, a dish delivers less than you want. (Beef croquettes, a lunch starter, have been bland.) The kitchen also needs to use its saltshaker with less abandon. The first time I tried Mio's sauteed shrimp, sprinkled with capers and accompanied by a pretty stack of fried spinach leaves, I couldn't eat more than two bites. Salt overwhelmed the assembly. On a second, less-seasoned encounter, I discovered the starter's potential. The spinach, each leaf encased in a light golden batter, is particularly delicious, although it needs to be eaten as soon as it comes to the table, while it's hot and crisp.

During Restaurant Week last month, Mio served a three-course menu, with several choices per course, that was a role model for participating establishments. If I close my eyes and think back, I can recall every detail of my $30.08 dinner, which began with smoked potato soup punctuated with tiny pillows of gnocchi and decorated with a froth of cream and Parmesan. The pleasure continued with a lovely piece of sea bass set off with a crisp square of skin; sharing the plate was a dill-flecked salad of shaved fennel and juicy citrus segments, plus a splash of blood orange sauce. A tangy round of Key lime pie signaled the end of the meal, which did exactly what it was supposed to do: encourage diners to return.

That's easy to consider, and not just because of what's on the plate. If you enjoy your liquids as much as your solids, Mio has you covered, with exceptional cocktails -- make mine a tangy margarita if it's dinner, a booze-free but refreshing mojito if it's lunch -- and an inviting wine program. It's a treat to see a number of wines by the glass sold for under two digits; the option of half-glasses; and small, respected producers from all over, especially Spain, Chile and Argentina. The restaurant also reminds us that you can drink well for $30 or so a bottle.

Mio is one of those rare dining rooms that engages patrons with its good bones but doesn't allow its looks to deflect attention from the food. The two-level space opens with an airy bar and lounge, where a piano is sometimes put to use by the owner's friend (Wednesday has become "Bohemian Night"), then spreads into three intimate dining areas separated by branchlike slats of dark wood that create see-through dividers. The light and dark blues of the servers' shirts are repeated in Mio's walls and open kitchen, a little stage that lets the cooks look out and the customers look in. If you're hunting for a place that buzzes with energy but won't wear out your ears, Mio is it (Spanish guitar music and Tony Bennett aid the cause).

Downtown Washington's restaurants are stocked with pretty hostesses and servers who can efficiently transport food from Point A to Point B. Maybe that's why I like the staff at Mio so much: They do more than just go through the motions. Iguina has worked in upscale restaurants for almost three decades, and he knows the difference between mannequins and people who can make you feel at home. The recent addition of a former lead server from Maestro could only add more polish.

It took him awhile, but Iguina also knows how to pick chefs. Frigerio makes a happy ending, but really, Mio's story has just begun.