Frasca

Walnuts watched at the edge of toast

Gently, walnuts get toasted at Frasca in Shanghai, stopped before the blink that takes them too far. Chef Marino D'Antonio leads the kitchen, arriving from Beijing's Opera Bombana, where he worked the rustic Italian techniques he now applies at this Middle House outpost. The name reaches back to Friuli, in northeast Italy, where a frasca was a branch hung over a doorway to signal food, welcome and something to drink for whoever was passing. In Jing'an that idea has been translated into a glasshouse, a wintergarden and a string-lit terrace inside The Middle House Residences, but the central demand stays practical. Pasta has to be rolled and cooked to its point. Pinsa needs air in the crumb and heat on the base. Wood-fired cooking leaves only a narrow margin between smoke and bitterness. The room opened around 2019 and has held Michelin recognition since, working as a neighbourhood address for brunch and dinner rather than as a hotel showpiece, in a city where Italian concepts usually go formal or fusion. Italian cooking is treated here as a method rather than a theme.

Egg, semolina, cherry wood

The kitchen’s clearest grammar is handmade pasta, Pinsa Romana, and wood-fired pizza. The pasta program works from eggs and semolina flour, with fresh dough carrying the sauces rather than hiding beneath them. Pappardelle with duck ragù, ravioli kept al dente, and the broader run of fresh pastas show the bench-side work most plainly: knead, rest, roll, cut, cook, sauce, pass. Each step is small enough to miss and large enough to change the plate. The stated approach is home-style Italian cooking with a modern turn, built on simple preparations and premium product.

Heat does the second half of the work. The Josper grill runs on cherry and apple woods, bringing smoke to meats, seafood, potatoes, and tomatoes without turning every dish into a demonstration of fire. La Milanese relies on pounding, breading, and pan-frying before it meets cherry wood-smoked potatoes and tartare sauce. Fritto Misto asks for a light batter around baby calamari, white bait, shrimp, and zucchini, then enough restraint to keep the fry clean. Pinsa Caprese places stracciatella, basil, and wood-grilled cherry tomatoes on an airy Roman-style crust, a simple construction that leaves no cover for poor dough.

The pass beside the glasshouse

The room is polished, but the best details stay close to the work. Light comes through the glasshouse during the day; after dark the restaurant narrows into a warmer register, with spare lighting, a wintergarden, and a string-lit outdoor terrace. The counter of attention moves between the pass and the tables. Plates arrive with the rhythm of an à la carte kitchen rather than the fixed procession of a tasting menu, so the craft has to reset course by course.

That rhythm suits Frasca’s idea of hospitality. It is upscale casual in service, conversational in noise, and Italian in its preference for shared appetite over ceremony. The wine program stays curated around the food, especially the wood-fired dishes and pasta, rather than pulling focus from them. What remains in the room is the relationship between dough, smoke, sauce, and service, carried through Frasca’s glasshouse in Jing'an.