Even after years in business, weekend tables here can be booked out a month in advance. The price point far exceeds its competitors. Granted, expectations are soaringly high, but something here failed to hit the high notes.
There are a few telltale signs that a restaurant relies solely on outstanding food to create the experience, no gimmicks or distractions needed.
La Mole is such a restaurant.
Photo: Hollie Younger, Taipei Times
The atmosphere is food-forward, with an open kitchen center stage. Our tables are simple; no candles, no dim lighting, no ambient music.
The menu is brief, and our waiter directs most of our attention away to the specials board for the freshest offerings. It’s looking good, this place surely must be the real deal, we think.
Our table is sardined somewhere in the middle. The setup is rather reminiscent of an early 2000s “Italian restaurant” — found in a tourist spot a few thousand miles from Italy.
Photo: Hollie Younger, Taipei Times
Some candles, music and romance were actually much needed to distract from the lackluster menu. And the teeth-clinchingly awkward date happening less than a meter to our left.
The wine menu is extensive and our waiter Laurence is knowledgeable, allowing us to try two house wines sold by the glass. We opt for two glasses of the drier Corvina Veronese (NT$250) that go down a treat.
The high point of the night might just have been the bread, freshly baked, warm and even complimentary focaccia and sourdough with some seriously good olive oil, balsamic and salty butter.
Photo: Hollie Younger, Taipei Times
We lap up our very enthusiastic waiter’s recommendations and start with the Carne Cruda al’Albese (NT$520), round slices of fleshy raw beef topped with wild mushrooms, generous shavings of black truffle and edible flowers.
This dish, from the Piedmont region of Italy, apparently inspired the later invention of the Carpaccio in 1950.
Authentic as it may be, the beef was far thicker than a wafer-thin carpaccio, almost more comparable to stringy slices of uncooked steak. As a bite-sized hors d’ouvre, it would work. But approaching my third slice, it was fibrous, chewy and a little bloody, with a citrusy dressing almost exacerbating the meat’s acidity and unpleasant mouthfeel. This can perhaps be attributed to personal taste; it looked beautiful, it was luxurious and truffle never goes unwanted.
Photo: Hollie Younger, Taipei Times
I would have opted for the prosciutto appetizer, but theirs is made in Taiwan. Disappointing, having dined on imported Italian cuts at La Piada and Iberico Ham flown in from Spain at JUJU Spanish Gastrobar.
For mains, we head back to the specials board with the highly recommended Ragu di Cervo (NT$520), using curly ribbons of Reginette pasta and a rich veal ragu. The pasta is stunningly al dente and has real bite. But other than that, this was truly nothing to write home about.
The veal is from New Zealand, we’re told, Taiwanese veal would be too rich. This dish tasted like a beef lasagna without the bechamel sauce — quite average. I would’ve added a healthy glug of red wine and a smattering of black pepper.
Photo: Hollie Younger, Taipei Times
Lastly, we head onto the eight-year bestseller, its picture plastered across Instagram and Google reviews, coated with extravagant shavings of speckled truffle.
This is the “rigatoni pasta, sausage and mushrooms cream sauce with fresh black truffle” (NT$580).
It was, to quote my date, “good.” Not outstanding or life-changing or must-eat-again. I love truffles as much as the next, but I recognize that no matter how many lashings of it you use, it can’t carry an entire dish.
Again, we wanted more pepper. Again, it wasn’t offered. In hindsight, as we glugged gallons of water on returning home, our palates wanted to counteract the over-salting.
We forgo dessert after a poor CP value experience and are treated to a shot of house-made “Orangecello,” a twist on Limoncello with a zingy taste of orange rind, a natural sweetness and a strong boozy finish.
Although the chef is from Piedmont himself, the food did feel a little catered to Taiwanese tastes and just, well, outdated.
My impression is that La Mole has been riding on an eight-year high of good reviews and word of mouth. But meanwhile, hotter, fresher spots are popping up across the city with more attractive price points, run by Italian owners and chefs, using imported produce and sporting zingy new menus. Ironically, see my review of Black Pepper.
For now, La Mole feels a little stale, trapped in a bygone era when authentic Italian was the only benchmark for success in Taipei. My advice? Crack some pepper, ease on the truffle and please light some damn candles.
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