Siena Italian Authentic Trattoria displays talent for balancing flavors

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I think it’s safe to say that most of us who have a deep appreciation for well-prepared food like to indulge ourselves from time to time. There’s a reason foods such as Kobe (or Wagyu) beef, lobster and caviar, burrata and St. Andre cheeses and, yes, foie gras (not to mention butter and cream, and more butter and cream) are so popular with the foodie crowd.

But too much of a good thing isn’t such a good thing, and a little restraint on the part of the kitchen — knowing when more would be less — is a definite strength. And I was reminded of that while dining at Siena Italian Trattoria.

Old-timers will recognize Siena as being located in the old Bertolini’s. They also may recognize it as the evolution of the Siena Deli that was on the east side for many years, and possibly also presiding chef Giancarlo Bomparola, late of the now-closed Pizza Cafe on South Eastern Avenue. It is, as the "trattoria" label would imply, a fairly casual place, but the menu covers a span from country rustic to urban sophisticated, from dishes ubiquitous in every neighborhood Italian joint to some that are far more creative.

The stuffed rigatoni ($14.75) fell into the latter camp, on both counts. Stuffed rigatoni have been around for eons, but these were a less-common version, the tubes sealed on the ends to enclose the light cheese filling. And as I took the first few bites, I enjoyed the textural interplay of pasta and filling, the abundance of the sauteed sliced mushrooms and the mellow notes of the tomato-cream sauce, also known as "pink sauce." But what were those other nuggets?

I had completely read over it on the menu but they were shrimp, cut in thirds or quarters, and they were strewn judiciously. The sauce was rich enough — the pasta, too — that more shrimp would’ve been too much. As it was, the proportions were perfect.

That was the case, too, with the burrata and tomatoes ($14). This starter was served on a long, narrow plate, the cream-infused burrata occupying center court atop crostini and fresh basil. On either end of the plate were slices of perfectly ripe heirloom tomatoes, drizzled with balsamic glaze. It was a simple plate of simple flavors — a gussied-up take on the classic caprese, courtesy of the burrata — and the kitchen was wise to let the pure flavors of the components run the show.

Pinwheel sausage ($15.95) wasn’t what we expected; I guess the "pinwheel" somehow translated to a bracciole-style expectation. At any rate, it was a coil of a thinnish Italian sausage, browned lightly and served with the traditional peppers and onions (the latter of which the menu said were pearl, but which turned out to be the more agreeable cippollini) on a nontraditional sweet-sour sauce.

We also loved the bread Siena serves. Well, the bread was a basic Italian (which carried an amazing aroma when it was served warm), but it was accompanied not by butter or olive oil but by a nicely assertive tapenade, which against that neutral platform showed off its briny, earthy goodness. The bread was in an attractive basket with a holder for the cup, which was one of those tacky takeout thingies (what’s up with that?). But we sure did like the tapenade.

As we liked the Struzzichini ($3.95), a dish of marinated olives, which complemented the bread-and-tapenade so perfectly.

And just about everything else about Siena. Our waiter was good except for a few lags toward the end; the only real snag was that he didn’t bring the wine we had ordered, but another Italian wine that was almost twice the price, and we didn’t notice until it was too late. It was no doubt a simple mistake — and we should’ve caught it at the moment of presentation — but you may want to take note.

Las Vegas Review-Journal restaurant reviews are done anonymously at Review-Journal expense. Contact Heidi Knapp Rinella at 383-0474 or hrinella@reviewjournal.com.