Review: Gia celebrates the simplicity of Italian cooking

The zucchini fritti on the menu at Gia has more to it than meets the eye. Cut into satisfyingly thick wedges the length of French fries, these are fried just until pockets of crisp, golden welts emerge. But it is by no means an aggressive fry — the thin drape of batter makes it clear that these zucchini were fried skin-on. They are exquisite.

Purists will say that deep-frying vegetables ruins their integrity. This clearly isn’t the case at Gia, a seasonally driven restaurant that opened in February in the quiet southwest Minneapolis Armatage neighborhood, where the French restaurant Café Vin once stood.

The nefarious secret here is that the zucchini aren’t plucked from, say, a boutique farm up north. They come from a bigger supplier. But that doesn’t mean that Gia doesn’t pay attention to sourcing, nor does it mean that the redeeming qualities of any produce cannot be coaxed into fruition — provided they are in the right hands.

These hands belong to Gia’s chef/owners, Jo Seddon and Lisa Wengler, who met while working at Gavin Kaysen’s now-shuttered Wayzata restaurant, Bellecour. Wengler is the Minnesota native, while Seddon, a doctor-turned-chef, hails from London, where she cooked at the iconic River Café. The British-Italian restaurant’s influences are obvious: seasonally driven, airy, unpretentious.

At the River Café, years ago, I remember savoring whole, sweet calamari, grilled until tenaciously smoky yet tender; a pile of arugula, compellingly dressed; fat, al dente cannellini beans that upstaged whatever proteins it accompanied — all in the company of diners dressed like they had front-row seats at London’s West End but weren’t clamoring to show up on time.

There is no show nor flashes of breezy extravagance at Gia. The clientele is probably all well-heeled, yet the humbler environs suggest that a meal here is more languid. During my recent visits, I did find grilled calamari, arugula and beans, nearly as compellingly prepared as I remember them from the River Café. They are less breathtakingly priced, too: I mean well when I say that Gia isn’t really a place for special occasions.

This, happily, encourages more grazing, more frequent dining at Gia, where the menu changes each week in accordance with the seasons. In early July, I had bright, ruby-colored grape tomatoes on bruschetta; the next week, tomatoes were roasted instead, and featured in a panzanella salad. Juices from the grilled scallop and halibut seeped into the salad, and the Salmoriglio sauce — oregano, lemon, olive oil — tied it all together very appealingly.

Later that month, the tomatoes were swapped out for yellow zucchini, slivered into paper-thin, crunchy ribbons. During another visit, I had a commendably prepared duo of zucchini blossoms, which were stuffed with goat cheese, fried and brushed with sweet chili honey.

Finding new gems truly is part of the fun. As is the relaxed, informal eating experience buoyed by a team of hospitality professionals who may, for instance, encourage you to eat those lamb rib chops with your hands. You should; the juicy, fatty (enough) meat is full of char and smoke, and it will haunt you.

There are limitations to Gia’s seasonality. Being situated in Minnesota is less advantageous than being in London or, say, the tonier cities on either coast, where good seasonal produce is readily available. It can mean that the simple pastas don’t shine without the aura of stellar ingredients.

Consider the pestos, which lack verve. A casarecce that featured it — with basil — was unremarkable, and the heavy-handed pecorino wasn’t much of a salve. Another different casarecce preparation, the style of trapanese (tomatoes), was fine but ate like a grab bag of indistinct pantry ingredients.

The prawns do come from Australia’s Skull Island, though. And while it is a promising opportunity to showcase the blistering freshness of wild-caught, head on, shell-intact crustacean, what transpired instead were three unevenly cooked shrimp; the muddy flavors did not compel me to go for their heads, which I’d normally savor without hesitation.

It’s unfair to judge the execution of a restaurant that frequently changes its menu, but it’s a revelation to know that cooking errors are few and far between — an important distinction for an eatery that thrives on simplicity. Though I couldn’t get past the undercooked and overcooked shrimp, I was at peace with overcooked bronzini (to their credit, an unforgivably thin fillet); a slightly overdressed peach and tomato salad that lacked acid; underseasoned tuna (saved by sweet, billowy red peppers and excellent beans); a ricotta ravioli which ate doughy; and a beef ragu that could use a little more tender, long-labored love.

“I hope you’ll join us again next week,” a server may tell you as the bill arrives. This invitation comes with a warning: The dishes you enjoy the most may not be there the next time you return. It can be frustrating.

But it can be rewarding, too. One week, chocolate nemesis cake — the vaunted dessert that rightfully ruled them all throughout River Café's 30-year history — appeared on the menu. It was deeply reminiscent of the one that sent me into convulsions of pleasure. Then the next week it was gone. Instead, I enjoyed gratifyingly rich brûléed lemon tart and a nondescript looking tiramisu. All it took were a few bites to remind me of why change can be, and in the case of Gia is, good.

⋆⋆⋆ highly recommended

Address: 5555 Xerxes Av. S., Mpls., 612-274-7163, giampls.com

Hours: Tue.-Sat.; apertivo hour 4-5 p.m., dinner 5-9 p.m.

Recommended dishes: Dishes change frequently with the season. But the vegetable fritti, arugula and bruschetta are typically available. The focaccia is one of the best of its kind in the Twin Cities. And desserts are uniformly excellent.

Prices: The most recent menu had snacks ($5-$6), sharing plates ($16-$18), small plates ($12-$20), main plates ($27-$35) and desserts ($3-$11). Watch for specials during apertivo hour.

Beverages: An array of wines by the bottle and glass, beer and house cocktails, including the Waiting for Lola, an apertivo spritz that’s a nod to Gia’s restaurant neighbor, Pizzeria Lola.

Tip or no tip: Standard tip line.

Noise level: Efforts have been undertaken to dampen noise, which hovers at around medium level during peak hours and capacity.

Worth noting: Gia has a three-course children’s tasting menu ($20), and while the main menu changes frequently, there are always gluten-free, vegetarian and vegan options.

About restaurant reviews: The Star Tribune’s restaurant critic visits restaurants multiple times with different dining companions. He attempts to dine anonymously, and the Star Tribune always picks up the tab.

What the stars mean:

⋆⋆⋆⋆ Exceptional

⋆⋆⋆ Highly recommended

⋆⋆ Recommended

⋆ Satisfactory

Jon Cheng is the Star Tribune’s restaurant critic. Reach him at jon.cheng@startribune.com or follow him on Instagram at @intrepid_glutton.