Rick C.
Google
Third visit to Trenta, which says something on its own. The first two times were solid—comforting, confident Italian. The pizzas hit that sweet spot between blistered and chewy, and the pastas are where this place really flexes. The Pappardelle al Brasato is rich and soulful, and the Paccheri Pistacchio is indulgent in the right way—creamy, nutty, unapologetic.
This time, though, I strayed from the script. The Cacio e Pepe felt restrained where it shouldn’t be—missing that aggressive salt-and-pepper punch that makes the dish sing. Not bad, just a little too polite.
The real misstep was the cioppino. The broth lacked depth and excitement—the kind of thing that should taste like the ocean had a long, meaningful conversation with garlic and wine, but instead barely introduced itself. Seafood portions felt light, and the single, tiny slice of bread that came with it was borderline offensive for a dish that demands bread. Yes, I asked for more—because of course I did.
On the upside, the bar knows what it’s doing. The Negroni was dialed in, and the Limoncello Spritzer was bright, refreshing, and dangerously easy to drink.
Trenta clearly knows how to do pasta, pizza, and cocktails. Stick to those strengths. Skip the cioppino. Order carbs. Have a drink. Be happy.