The past few days, two sensations have been vying for space in my consciousness: the feeling of biting into soft yet firm slices of marinated eggplant, with a sharp, acidic kick. And the sensation of artichokes with stems, cooked to buttery soft, unfolded perfection, making the herbal, mild, and almost licorice-like feeling grow and grow.
Both dishes were served as flashy and laid-back midcourses at the newly opened Fojetta, a modern Roman osteria, somewhat forlornly located on Borups Allé, surrounded by apartment blocks, traffic, and a surprisingly large number of dog walkers.
I absolutely love that skilled chefs and restaurateurs these days seem indifferent to location and basically open their restaurants wherever there’s a suitable space available, thus opening up neighborhoods and less picturesque streets. Think Oberra at Skjolds Plads, Bar Moro on Blegdamsvej, Pauli on Borgbjergsvej in Sydhavnen. Extend the list yourself.
Inside Fojetta, it is friendly and sparse, with both Jesus and Snoop Dogg’s cookbook (’From Crook to Cook’) over the bar. There are rust-red laminated tables and egg-yolk yellow walls.
Alessandro Ciofani has a background as co-owner and regular at Rufino in Christianshavn, and Ian MacDougall, with an Argentine background, comes from Bæst and Relæ.
Instagram’s To Sultne Piger recently visited Fojetta and gave it top marks, which might be one reason Fojetta was packed this somewhat chilly Wednesday in January. Now, it’s just Ciofani and MacDougall running the place, so be prepared for a bit of a wait for drinks and food.
Sympathetic Pricing
Fojetta is an Italian term for a half-liter amphora, and easy drinking and absolutely affordable house wine are part of Fojetta’s concept. A half-liter of red or white cost 160 DKK, a whole liter 280 DKK. Both were surprisingly good table wines, and if you want something else, the wine list is competent and extensive.
Now let me take you back to the beginning: the unbelievably good eggplant, a dish that takes time and effort to make, whose acid and bite first made me think of boquerones and then that this world needs more addictive vegetable dishes. At 95 DKK, it felt like a gift, and overall, Fojetta’s prices are unusually sympathetic. With the homemade Roman and somewhat flatter focaccia (45 DKK), we soaked up the very last bits of the eggplant dish from the plate.
The next serving was two fried bites (95 DKK): fritti, classic Roman street food. One with tomato, rice, and mozzarella, and the other – a nod to Ian MacDougall’s Argentine background – an empanada, here filled with tripe, tomato, and mint, and don’t be put off, as this tripe lies comfortably in your stomach.
A warm serving with endive and white anchovies (85 DKK) was juicy and flavorful, making me long for Borups Allé as I write. Yet, the dish was surpassed by the artichoke from the opening serving (85 DKK), which tasted like the sweetest mother of all artichokes. Cooked with white wine and a bit of fresh mint, which gave a blissful zap before settling nicely where food memories are stored.
We ordered the entire menu except the stracciatella with winter tomatoes and Fojetta’s own charcuterie, which hangs temptingly in a meat cabinet in the middle of the restaurant. That omission has been a source of regret ever since..
Ended Heavy
Close your eyes and visualize ’pasta dish,’ and in front of you stands Fojetta’s fettuccine alla romana (165 DKK) with a ragu made from the offal of chickens from Jutland’s Gothenborg farm. Solidly good.
If you are religious about the way David Fischer makes his cacio e pepe at Fischer’s on Victor Borges Plads, you might be less enthusiastic about Fojetta’s version, which is a bit more substantial and less cheesy than the Østerbro variant.
Fojetta’s cacio e pepe (150 DKK) uses the thick pasta type tonnarelli, and around us in the restaurant, there was slurping and murmuring of approval.
»In Rome, we aren’t serious about many things – EXCEPT sweetbreads and chicory,« was the message when the final savory dish of the evening came to the table.
Sweetbreads cooked to perfection with chicory. The dish was sublime, topped with black olives and cedro lemon, whose peel is also eaten.
Rufino made – and presumably still makes – a pistachio tiramisu that has gone down in history. I wouldn’t go that far with Fojetta’s almond tiramisu (85 DKK), which ended up being a bit too heavy and lacking that special airiness for me.
And thus, it became the only dish of the evening that didn’t shout enthusiastically towards Borups Allé’s neon signs. Some neon signs we decode as atmospheric and perhaps even nostalgic: Irma’s blinking egg above the lakes, the Bosch sign in the Meatpacking District. And then there’s Normal’s shrill advertising loop on Borups Allé, which is the view Fojetta’s bar guests have to live with.
’Does everything sometimes collapse for you?’, was the question asked again and again by the aggressive flashing lights . Not at Fojetta, which has new classic potential, and where the majority of the evening shone brilliantly.
