Trent Bistro, Kafe & Pastries

Pleasing resurrections

by Bill Rodriguez

748 Hope St., Providence, (401) 861-5363
Open Tues-Sat, 11:30 a.m.-3 p.m., 5:30-9 p.m.
No credit cards, personal checks accepted
No handicapped access

The first thing a little city does when it gets a little cosmopolitan is to go all culinarily upscale, with fancy, expensive boîtes blossoming like summer beach houses after a Republican tax cut. Only later does the secondary phase -- that of Sincere Food -- come about. You know, the really good ethnic and home-style restaurants; the stuff like Mama used to make; and the tastes so good they gets into kids' genetic codes.

Trent Bistro, Kafe & Pastries is that kind of place. It couldn't have existed in Providence -- or certainly wouldn't have survived long -- say, 20 years ago. There is no menu; your choices are on display in a refrigerator case, all pert and labeled. A place like this needs a clientele that's been around enough to not so much think of deli cases or leftovers as be reminded of those ubiquitous little cafés from Piraeus to Napoli, where you look over the offerings and tap on the glass at what you want.

This bistro opened 16 months ago on a busy stretch already cheek-to-jowl with food opportunities, from Jewish to Thai. It's the namesake of Trent Ferrara, who trained in interior design at RISD, but six years ago decided to develop his interest in food. He worked in various places, doing prep at the Gatehouse and introducing some innovations to the menu at the nearby cafe 729 Hope Street.

When I dropped in for lunch last week, Trent himself seemed even more a part of the place than usual, garbed in an olive-green knit sweater and bill cap several shades darker than the same color walls. Drawing from his perspective as a designer, he observes of his food, "It's all about proportion and balance and scale." Trent could have also been talking about the space itself, which is small and intimate. There was a blush-edged yellow rose bud on each of only nine tables, most of them deuces. The proprietor's ethnic heritage shows not only in the airy painting of a sun-bleached terrace behind the display case, but also in the occasional recipe from his Greek grandmother. "Cook it today, serve it tomorrow," is a Greek expression he heard growing up, Ferrara says.

Most entrées and salads are $9.25 to $9.75 for full orders, with accompanying items, such as roasted rosemary potato wedges, Mexican rice and beans, or roasted asparagus with tomatoes and herbs, going for $6.50 to $6.75. But you're advised to go for a plentiful half-order of a main dish, at half price, and a side dish or two, which brings the bill down to around $10. Quite a bargain, and it's still a challenge to clean your plate.

Trent is BYOB. You can trot off to the nearby package store if you forget, and there's no annoying fee to borrow their glassware. The bread set before us had golden raisins and fennel seeds, for another auspicious start.

We started out with a cold platter: poached salmon topped with sour cream and diced multi-colored bell peppers, plus an artichoke and asparagus salad. Delicious. Then the hot dishes came out: a pesto and sun-dried tomato eggplant loaf, delicately herbed under an Alfredo sauce; wonderfully bitter broccoli rabe; corn, roasted for al dente resistance, with prunes for a right-on complement; boneless spareribs, moist, and in a marvelously sweet tomato sauce I'd had only with stuffed peppers, although the announced chili didn't come across to me. The only relatively uneventful item on the table was the sour cream mashed potatoes.

Turning the let-the-flavors-mingle-for-a-while style to best advantage were the roasted butternut squash and the hit of the table, the "house meatloaf" under demi-glaze. The latter was moist and rich with the ground meats in tasty proportions and mysterious undertones (Trent admitted to a soupçon of mint) to the herbs and seasoning. This dish was the forte of my carnivore companion, who once spent a day and a half preparing the same to impress Boston Market's official meatloaf researcher. Jerry's eyes all but rolled back in his head, and he pronounced Trent's version superb.

But the real challenge as far as I was concerned was the fish. I came there convinced that fish simply isn't designed for re-heating, that it was bound to come out dry or tasting fishy. So much for my prejudices. Apparently, before refrigeration Trent under-cooked the firm-fleshed orange roughie so that it could come out sizzling and taste made-to-order. And that buttery breadcrumb stuffing -- no wonder it's a favorite of his regulars.

Needless to say, we didn't have room for dessert. A shame. A table in the back corner was groaning with a half-dozen cakes and a couple of pie, plus baklava. Trent always makes the pies, as well as most of the cakes. Six bucks a slice for either is steep, but they did look good. You can indulge in one of them for me, if you go. And don't think you have to stint on what comes before. That's why the Good Lord created doggie bags and made us appreciative enough to ask for them.