Viva Italia!

If there is one restaurant in Sacramento’s dining scene that is spoken of more reverentially than any other, it is Biba, the eponymous establishment of Biba Caggiano.

Northern Italian by birth, Caggiano arrived in Sacramento in 1969. Her efforts to find decent Italian food to eat led her to cook it herself, then to teach cooking classes, have a television show, and open, in 1986, what was certainly the first authentically northern Italian restaurant in Sacramento. Biba (the restaurant) makes its own pasta—including a fresh stuffed pasta that changes daily—offers a pasta course (primi piatti) and an entree course (secondi) and places the salad course last on its menu, as you would find in Italy.

Because of Biba’s, and Caggiano’s, iconic status, it’s a bit intimidating to re-approach the restaurant. There’s recently been a shift in the kitchen, however, and any restaurant can change over time. Caggiano has a reputation for being at her restaurant nightly, keeping things running smoothly and graciously. We didn’t see her there on the Saturday night I went, but service was nonetheless gracious and efficient.

We had determined to take things in the Italian style, with the full complement of courses. The menu changes frequently, but on our February visit it was still marked as the fall menu. Still, much of it was seasonally appropriate. I was surprised by the wine list: It features relatively few northern Italian wines, which would be natural pairs for the food. There are a great many California cabernets and chardonnays, though there are enough Italian finds.

We began by sharing a plate of bruschetta, thin slices of bread topped with broccoli rabe and cannellini-bean puree. The bitterness of the broccoli rabe offset the creamy and garlicky bean puree and the sharp sheep’s milk pecorino.

I immediately was seduced by the menu description of pappardelle topped with a duck, pancetta and porcini-mushroom sauce, but the pasta was not house made. Our server, who knew the menu well, offered to have the sauce served over house fettuccine instead. Unfortunately, this dish was the night’s only real disappointment. I had pictured a rich, deep sauce, but the duck was ground and rather chewy and flavorless, and the perfume or porcinis or pancetta was barely detectable; indeed I at first wondered if I had been served the wrong thing. The sauce tasted fine, it just didn’t live up to the considerable promise of its menu description. The pasta itself, however, was satiny and perfectly al dente, made and cooked with meticulous care. My husband had another antipasti rather than pasta: an unusual and delicious hearty salad of moist shreds of pork shank, cabbage and caper berries in a mustardy dressing.

For an entree, I was intrigued by braised rabbit, but the server suggested that its flavors might duplicate those of the duck sauce. Instead, she said, they had one serving left of petrale sole, simply sautéed with white wine and dried tomatoes. Though I was also interested in the mixed grill (our server confessed she wasn’t really a fan of the dish, which she found overly simple) and some pan-fried lamb chops, I did try the sole, which was perfectly cooked. The dried tomatoes were applied as an accent rather than a major component.

Alongside the dish was a slightly oily mélange of roasted vegetables. The same came with my husband’s nicely balanced duck saltimbocca, a thin pounded piece of duck topped with slightly crispy, salty prosciutto and sage leaves and accompanied by very smooth, subtle parmesan mashed potatoes.

I confess that the salad course was too much for us: nice though they sounded, especially one with orange and fennel, dessert won out. I settled on a sour cherry and plum crostata with a tender, buttery crust and a lattice top enclosing aromatic, tangy fruit. The gelato with it was a touch icy. My husband’s zuccotto fiorentino was more visually dramatic: a soaring wedge of a big, half-sphere of chocolate-covered hazelnut and almond cream with cake. We finished both happily.

Biba also serves excellent lunches. I’ve heard the lasagne, served Thursdays only, described as the best dish in town by no less than Darrell Corti. With a recommendation like that, I made room in my schedule for its melting, creamy texture; many ultra-fine sheets of spinach pasta; and subtle, quiet ragu, all held together with stretchy yet understated strings of cheese. The flavor is perfectly integrated and balanced, with no one note—meat, cheese, tomato, pasta—outshining the other. It’s not your mom’s lasagne, unless your mom is from Emilia-Romagna.

Veal stew, also recommended to us as a nice winter dish, was very different from the lasagne in flavor and style. It nonetheless shared the qualities of balance and fine crafting that made the lasagne special. A hint of white wine and a base of finely chopped aromatic vegetables and herbs—carrots, celery, a hint of tomatoes, parsley—added their character to the sauce, but its major qualities were meatiness and body. The chunks of veal were moist, tender and again subtle. Two rounds of cheese-infused polenta, topped with a crust of more cheese, made an understated yet yummy accompaniment.

Indeed, understated yet yummy could be Biba’s motto. Don’t go expecting innovation, foams or trendiness. Despite some updates, the dining room retains its ’80s look (the shiny faux-gold fixtures could go), but what you’ll find are northern Italian classics, precisely executed and served in a traditional atmosphere.