The delicious and wonderfully served dishes at the high-end eatery Mille Miglia are worth the money paid for them
So my mom’s in town, right, and she’s easily one of the most wonderful and accommodating people I know, but when it comes to food she has definite needs. I’m sure she just believes herself to be a healthy eater. I, however, lovingly consider her an obsessive ascetic. Her diet and lifestyle bear the most resemblance to an afternoon in a Benedictine monastery in the late 16th century. And while I almost single-handedly keep Nemiroff in business, only pausing to either smoke a cigarette or consume some kind of heavy decadent meal, my mother drinks no alcohol, rarely sups on anything fried, eats no meat other than chicken (okay, she’ll have a bite of duck now and then) and usually stays away from all dairy other than yogurt. Sounds like a blast, right? So if you’re thinking that Ukrainian cuisine holds little promise for her, you recognize my quandary. And if I didn’t want her to be eating varenyks (minus the sour cream, of course) for her entire ten-day stay, I’d have to make a list of mom-friendly establishments.
I know her well enough, though, to see hints of a closet libertine lurking about. If the food is really that good, she’s willing to break most rules. And at Mille Miglia I’m happy to say that her parameters were mostly abandoned.
First of all, the place is blissfully not a “fusion” restaurant. I’ve ranted in these pages before about the irritating meaninglessness of this term, so I’ll spare you another screed. No, Mille Miglia is firmly and self-consciously an Italian restaurant, and one that actually understands that fresh ingredients are the most important aspect of high-end cuisine.
And they also know how to get on my good side. I would have been happy enough with the complementary basket of white, olive and foccacia breads dipped in luxuriously dense olive oil and then dappled with the nicest aged balsamic vinegar I’ve had in Ukraine. But, along with the breads, one of the first things the incredibly attentive and well-trained staff does is bring you a free plate of prosciutto and large chunks of parmesan. For those of you unfamiliar with cured Italian meats, your life is a mere shadow of what it could be: there is some kind of magic in the northern Italian hills of Parma that turns ordinary hams into extraordinary vessels of flavor. The slices served at Mille Miglia are no different.
But this was truly just the beginning. I ordered liberally because mom was, of course, helping to expand the limits of my expense account. An appetizer of grilled scallops with balsamic lentils (Hr 80) was, well, frankly incredible. For those of you who’ve cooked scallops before, you know how time-sensitive these delicious bivalves can be: A few seconds too long in the pan and their flesh turns to rubber, but a few seconds too short can leave the inside raw and slimy. I bring this up, of course, because the ones I ordered were perfect. The lentils as well were a perfectly seasoned melange of legumes in a light tomato paste with a final vinegary bite of balsamic. Atop this was a perfect complement of bitter and spicy mesclun greens, a welcome addition that also accompanied our eggplant and zucchini rolls stuffed with goat cheese (Hr 55), four small and tenderly steamed tubes of vegetable filled with a cheese so heavenly rich that my mother’s eyes lit up after her first bite like an addict desperate for a fix. When I went for a second piece I thought I’d have to fight her off with my bread knife.
I’ve never been much of a risotto fan, so it’s no surprise that I found the one we ordered – with zuchinni, shrimp and saffron (Hr 75) – a little bland, but my mom said I was just being too picky. She does understand, though, that it’s my job. In fact, she finds it adorable that I’ve gone from being a nobody in New York to a, well, nobody in Kyiv who happens to get paid to eat out. In fact, she started to get into the game herself. As my entree arrived – beef tenderloin with pancetta bacon, eggplant and mushroom sauce served with a small mound of polenta and a dark green puck of spinach (Hr 125) – she dipped her fork into the pile of greens, declaring them a success. “Wonderfully accomplished,” she cried. “Hints of cumin, I think. And these were definitely sauteed in oil.” The meat, though, due to her restrictions, was my domain entirely. And it was, without question, the tenderest cut I’ve had in Kyiv. What’s more, the polenta provided a perfect vehicle for soaking up the impressively complex brown sauce, whose inviting slick surface was only broken by a well-considered flotsam of herbs.
After all of this deliciousness, I thought there was no way I could continue. But the jewel of the evening was yet to come. The ragout of king prawns and scallops with a mozzarella croquet (Hr 130) arrived no more or less beautifully arranged than the preceding dishes, but I was soon to learn that the sauce surrounding the seafood and the fried wedge of cheese was a bright orange testament to culinary mastery. When we ran out of the generous amount of seafood, my mother and I took turns soaking up the creamy mess with basket after basket of bread. So what if the croquette was a little bland and its crust a bit too doughy? It was as if all the ingredients on the plate had been cast in a Broadway show together, and the star was just so magnificent she couldn’t help but raise the performance of all the bit parts. I sat in awe as my mother wiped the last smudges of it from her plate, her eyes radiant with decadence. “You know that’s cream-based, right?” I asked, worried she might have a heart attack brought on by guilt right there at the table. “So good,” she answered. No more articulation was needed. But her self control sadly returned after the sauce disappeared. While I eyed the grappa list and chose a glass of Tradizionale (Hr 20), I tried to convince her to have a taste. But a woman who hasn’t been drunk in over 40 years can be bit of a tough sell. Besides, she was lost in the deep meditation only a good meal can engender, already planning her penitent breakfast of oatmeal and bran.
Mille Miglia
(at the Radisson SAS)
22 Yaroslaviv Val, 490-2255.
Open daily from noon till 11 p.m.
English menu: Yes.English-speaking staff: Yes.
