Don’t worry, she isn’t lost, she’s nonna Eugenia, the matriarch of Numero 28 and grandmother of the Biamonte clan, who run a few Numero 28 locations. When the matron isn’t fussing over guests and bringing them baskets of the restaurant’s fresh and warm foccocia, you can find her in the kitchen with chef Ramon Duran, whipping up her famous veal and pork meatballs ($9). The dense meatballs come three to plate coated in a light, sweet tomato sauce, the perfect mate for a hearty slice of the parmigiana di melanzane, the restaurant’s small plate version of eggplant parmesan ($9).

Also off the appetizer menu, try the cool and creamy bufala, a fresh buffalo mozzarella that comes with a pile of melty prosciutto ($18).  If you order the bruschetta ($8), be warned it’s a little different than usual; it was served on a large, rectangular pieces of flatbread cut in six pieces, laden high with your choice of either mouthwatering marinated mushrooms or a combination of large pieces of sweet artichoke, pesto and diced tomato.

The name Numero 28 comes from the restaurant’s first location at 28 Carmine St. in the West Village. Just like its sister restaurants, the latest venture cooks up an array of traditional pasta dishes and Neapolitan pies, bringing their cuisine to an area that, while rich in chains and pizza-by-the-slice shops, lacks a romantic, sit-down place to eat real Italian food.

Classic dishes include lasagna di carne ($16), your typical lasagna with béchamel and a homemade meat sauce; penne boschetto, which comes abound with mushrooms, truffle oil and smoky speck ($15); and freshly made ravioli with ricotta and spinach in a heavenly butter and sage sauce ($16).

While the appetizers and pasta proved worthwhile, the real star of Numero 28 is their pizza. You can order the pies in three sizes ($10-$37): the personal 14-inch, 18-inch, or the Roman-style slab of pizza that runs over two feet, at 29 inches.

We tried it with the signature numero 28, the francesina and the bianca del diavolo. The latter proved the heartiest of the bunch, loaded with mozzarella, fluffy ricotta, and thick disks of zesty pepperoni. On the francesina, they added brie to the mozzarella and speck combination, an odd concept at first that in the end worked to give more heft to the lighter cheese and cut the smokiness of the meat.

For a classic pie, try the plain cheese, which is actually a margarita—but as general manager and partner Luigi Porceddu explained in his heavy accent, the staff is so Italian that when people ordered “cheese pizza,” they got confused and instead made them their five formaggi, which comes with mozzarella, gorgonzola, fontina, parmesan and provolone.
Unlike the other Numero 28s, this one offers a full bar with innovative cocktails such as the Montenegroni, a fresh take on the negroni, and the Tartufone, a mixture of pear-infused vodka, grapefruit juice and white truffle oil. The dessert menu (all $7) is basic Italian fare, like semifreddo al pistachio and pannacotta, but even if you are completely full, you shouldn’t miss out on their light, silky tiramisu, which comes with coffee-saturated ladyfingers and will disappear before you know it.

West Side Spirit: What made you decide to write the book?
Patricia Cohen: Partly, it was reaching middle age myself—and I have always been interested in history. Since family structures and social traditions have eased so much in our age, I wanted to compare them to previous ones.

It’s amazing how deep you go. How did you find your historical starting point?
There have been historic studies of childhood and teenagers; adolescence was invented in the same period as middle age. Part of what I did was look back at how those writers went about doing their histories and I used evidence they were using as a sort of guide. Middle age is relatively recent invention, only going back a couple hundred years.

What surprised you the most in your research?
I think that even though it seems like a law of nature that has always been there, middle age is such a new idea. Most people think that middle age goes back before the 19th century. I think people find it surprising that it’s a relatively modern complex that started to take form in the industrial era.

Many people hit their prime in their forties and fifties. Do you feel this is true in your case?
I have one son and I had him when I was 40 years old. It’s kind of hard to feel middle-aged when you are changing diapers and looking into preschools. [On a professional level] this is my first book, so I guess that goes along with the idea that you can discover things and do things in middle age, though I feel like I am a late bloomer with that as well.

I like that you said middle age is becoming more of a starting point than a middle point. Do you think this idea will ever be the popular opinion?
I don’t know. It’s hard to imagine to some degree, given our obsession with youth, but as life spans increase and social opinions change, it’s possible people will view middle age differently. America is the most youth-obsessed culture in the world, which is the greatest handicap that we associate with middle age. Social changes don’t happen over night. There has been some progress made, as I talk about in the book.

How would you suggest one fight the Midlife Industrial Complex, as you describe it?
That’s really tough. I think that part of what I was looking at was the difficulty of balancing the positive side of self-help with the burden of trying to improve yourself so much that it becomes oppressive. I wanted to remind people that middle age is a story that we tell about ourselves and to remember it’s not a fixed law of nature but more of a cultural fiction. Because it’s a story we tell about ourselves, it’s a story we have the ability to change.

They called this area Seneca Village, and it existed on the west side of the park between 81st and 89th streets from 1825 through 1857. You can find the spot in Central Park if you are conscious, since no sign marks the historical settlement, nor do the rolling hills of green-brown, winter-bare trees, playgrounds and giant boulders give any indication that people lived there.

Not only did they have houses, they worshiped in three separate churches, went to school and were buried in that location. Now, the remnants of the past have been unearthed and are slowly becoming available for public consumption.

“Now we are doing lab work and analyzing the artifacts,” said Nan Rothschild, the excavation leader from Columbia University. “We will figure out what it all means.”

The team behind the exploration is the Institute for the Exploration of Seneca Village History, which includes Rothschild, Cynthia Copeland from New York University, Diana Wall from the City University of New York and about 10 college interns. They focused on two known residential sites in the park, the yard of Nancy Moore and the home of William G. Wilson, a caretaker for the All Angels’ Episcopal Church who had a wife and eight children.

During an eight-week dig last summer, they unearthed the stone foundation of Wilson’s house and found a lot of ceramic pieces, smoking pipes, animal bones, glass and some distinctive things like buttons, a toothbrush handle and a small leather shoe.
But just because they have finished fishing the pieces of Seneca Village out of the dirt doesn’t mean the project is close to done. Now the artifacts mainly reside at Barnard College, where archeologists have cleaned them. Next, said Rothschild, they will catalog, dissect, analyze and put into context what the findings insinuate about life in this community.

“We are tying to find out what it meant to be a middle-class African American community in New York during this time,” she said.

It only took two years for the city of New York to demolish the village after an order of eminent domain took the land from its owners. True, it gave us the marvelous park we enjoy today, but, in an effort to reconnect and tell the history of Seneca Village and the people who called it home, researchers have worked for decades to discover the roots and lifestyles of those people. The initial investigation of Seneca Village started in 1999, but the excavation of the site didn’t commence until 2010 and it finished July 2011.

Though the Seneca Village project won’t change the park, it does give visitors an invite to a life far beyond the glitz and glamor of the Upper West Side.

“In its maintenance and restoration of Central Park, the conservancy wants visitors to get to know and explore the park in as many ways as possible,” said Doug Blonsky, Central Park Conservancy president and Central Park administrator. “Unearthing an important part of both it and New York’s history lets visitors see Central Park from an entirely new angle from before its creation.”

With their research, the team has paid homage to Seneca Village not only in their consideration of the area but by giving lectures and information to anyone interested, including tours of where the community resided.

Seneca Village Events
Seneca Village Tour
Sat. Feb. 18, 2:30 p.m.; free.
Inside Central Park at the West 85th  Street entrance.

Unearthing Seneca Village:
New York’s Forgotten History
Feb. 28–March 30; free.
The Tunnel Gallery in Barnard College in the basement of Altschul Hall, 3009 Broadway, 212-854-5262.

Our Town: What made you decide to write the book?
Patricia Cohen: Partly, it was reaching middle age myself—and I have always been interested in history. Since family structures and social traditions have eased so much in our age, I wanted to compare them to previous ones.

It’s amazing how deep you go. How did you find your historical starting point?
There have been historic studies of childhood and teenagers; adolescence was invented in the same period as middle age. Part of what I did was look back at how those writers went about doing their histories and I used evidence they were using as a sort of guide. Middle age is relatively recent invention, only going back a couple hundred years.

What surprised you the most in your research?
I think that even though it seems like a law of nature that has always been there, middle age is such a new idea. Most people think that middle age goes back before the 19th century. I think people find it surprising that it’s a relatively modern complex that started to take form in the industrial era.

Many people hit their prime in their forties and fifties. Do you feel this is true in your case?
I have one son and I had him when I was 40 years old. It’s kind of hard to feel middle-aged when you are changing diapers and looking into preschools. [On a professional level] this is my first book, so I guess that goes along with the idea that you can discover things and do things in middle age, though I feel like I am a late bloomer with that as well.

I like that you said middle age is becoming more of a starting point than a middle point. Do you think this idea will ever be the popular opinion?
I don’t know. It’s hard to imagine to some degree, given our obsession with youth, but as life spans increase and social opinions change, it’s possible people will view middle age differently. America is the most youth-obsessed culture in the world, which is the greatest handicap that we associate with middle age. Social changes don’t happen over night. There has been some progress made, as I talk about in the book.

How would you suggest one fight the Midlife Industrial Complex, as you describe it?
That’s really tough. I think that part of what I was looking at was the difficulty of balancing the positive side of self-help with the burden of trying to improve yourself so much that it becomes oppressive. I wanted to remind people that middle age is a story that we tell about ourselves and to remember it’s not a fixed law of nature but more of a cultural fiction. Because it’s a story we tell about ourselves, it’s a story we have the ability to change.

We got in just in time to snag a cozy table in the back and, despite the room’s size and volume of people in it, the exposed brick walls and intimacy of the setup helped give it an amorous aura. Now, if only they could dim the dazzling chandeliers a little and the space would be spot-on for romance—minus the occasional cry of a child.

The menu? Not so romantic, unless you happen to be a craft beer, Southern food and pickle connoisseur, which my companion and I are. First thing, we ordered a round of beers. He got Brooklyn Brewery’s Companion ($8), a special brew made for the release of the Oxford Companion to Beer, which was edited by their head brewer Garrett Oliver. While his was malty and amber in color, I went to the dark side and chose the sweet, rich Allagash Black ($9), a strong stout at 7.5 percent that Jacob’s mislabeled as 10 percent. OK, so maybe we know more about beer than most, but honestly, that was part of what drew us in—the beer and the pickles.

Owned by Jacob Hadjigeorgis, the restaurant’s focus shines through, though they do tend toward the expensive side given that one order of pickles runs $4 for a measly three or four small pieces. You are better off ordering the platter, which lets you sample all six flavors for $15: peppery asparagus spears; your basic, crunchy sour pickle; sweet sticks of carrot that have a chili kick; simple, sugary beet slices; slivers of cucumber touted as hot that were really more like a bread-and-butter pickle; and our favorite, the sour, firm green tomato wedges.

While the beers we had did the trick before the pickles, ones that go best to cut the lip-puckering, vinegar tinge of the preserved vegetables are brews like the refreshing Narrangansett lager ($7) or the hoppy Founder’s Centennial IPA ($8). They also offer Lagunitas Doppel ($8), which, though it’s a dark wheat, melds nicely with the sweetness presented by some of the pickles. Its roundness also cuts the bite of the more abrasive ones.

Jacob’s also offers an array of tasty cocktails, most which have a pickled component, including the spicy, meal-in-a-cup Bloody B.L.T. ($13) with peppercorn vodka, Niman Ranch bacon and a jalapeño pickled egg; the vodka and dill pickle brine-filled Dirty Aphrodite ($12) and a margarita ($12) with house-infused jalapeño tequila mixed with a spicy pickle brine. Of course, you can also get the ubiquitous pickle back, which includes a double shot of Dickle #12 whiskey and house pickle brine ($11), possibly the best deal on the menu.

Despite the pickled selection, Jacob’s has an extensive food list beyond its namesake dish. It has decent biscuits that, while a little dry, are brightened by the homemade strawberry and orange preserves ($8) or a salty-sweet chicken liver jam ($10). The leek country sausage adds a nice, fresh meatiness to the starch-heavy starters ($14)—the obligatory mac ‘n’ cheese ($14) turned out light on the palate yet pleasingly heavy on the mushroom flavor and their fried honey-chicken sandwich proved not too greasy, though not totally worth the $13 price tag.

We got them on the phone to talk about the book, the shop, their ball technique and what’s in store for the future.

Did you ever think meatballs would be this popular?
Michael Chernow: At first I thought the concept was brilliant, but as we got closer to the opening, I was a little nervous about meatballs being the focus of the menu. But I think everyone loves meatballs. Rarely do I run into someone who doesn’t like them. That’s what I was banking on and, sure enough, it worked out.

How does running The Meatball Shop compare to other restaurants you have worked in?
MC: I have been working in restaurants since I was 13 years old—that makes it about 18 years. I have taken bits of what I learned in each restaurant and incorporated my own theories. I feel we have been able to create a really special place that I would like to work in and that I would want my friends to hang out in. I think the key is to create a special environment for the staff and make them my first priority. I have taken Danny Meyer’s lead in that.

Why did you pick the location for the businesses?
MC: For our first shop we knew we wanted to be in the Lower East Side. I worked in that area for 10 years; I knew the demographic would eat us up, literally and figuratively. The density of bars in the LES was the deciding factor for us. We wanted to attract younger bargoers to stop in before going out, and on their way home after drinking. The positioning of the first shop was strategically planned to categorize The Meatball Shop as a young, hip place to eat. It worked. We had the same motivation when looking for the Brooklyn store, so we secured a location on Bedford Avenue, right in the heart of Williamsburg.
Once we felt comfortable in our targeted demographic, we took a swing in a more family-oriented market, the West Village. We were a bit nervous, but the concept proved to be viable there as well.

Any reason two are downtown rather than uptown?
MC: The food scene downtown is thriving. As I mentioned before, we wanted to be considered as a restaurant that would not only be known for its food, but for its atmosphere.

The Meatball Shop as a unique system of ordering. Why did you format the menu in that way?
Daniel Holzman: There is a burger joint in Los Angeles called The Counter, and they have a check-box system where you choose your bun, patty, sauce and topping. Mike and I loved it, and we liked the idea of doing something that was kind of kitschy.
At first, The Meatball Shop was going to be counter service only, but it was too busy so we started full service. The immediate feedback was that people loved filling out the menu—eventually, we started using dry erase markers because we got sick of wasting the original paper menus. Now, I when I go to a restaurant, I want to write on their menu, too.

How long did the book take?
MC: The book took around a year from start to finish, from writing to taking photos. We wanted to make sure it was consistent with the restaurant, from the music to the food to the energy. I think we were able to portray that when you open up the book.

How did you pick the recipes for the book?
MC: For the original recipes, Dan and I spent a lot of time honing in on the flavors we love. We would look at the flavors and say, “Hey, let’s make that into a meatball.” Usually, I come up with the name and Dan comes up with the recipe.
DH: We wanted to document the restaurant using all the recipes we liked. We had to pare down quite a bit and now, the book is almost completely made up of recipes we make at The Meatball Shop.

How far do you want to take the Meatball Shop concept?
MC: Dan and I are very excited with where we are right now, though we always have our ear to the ground and are constantly looking for ways to make the concept more efficient.
DH: We have been talking about it a lot. Mike and I said we would wait until we opened these two restaurants to get some hindsight. We weren’t sure what it would be like to open them, but people are responding well and I would like to open more.

Any new concepts in the works?
MC: I think meatballs have really taken over our lives, and stepping into a different concept isn’t something we are looking into right now. Also, the demographics of meatballs are so wide and vast, I don’t see us opening another concept outside the meatball shop.
DH: I would be really surprised if at some point in our lives we don’t do something else. But right now, meatballs are fun and I love it.

Food-wise, the actual pizzas remain true to the Neapolitan style and were some of the best I have tried in the city. The trick, says Cilio, is in the oven and in the ingredients, most of which he imports straight from the source. You can really taste the difference in the caprese salad ($8.50), a beautifully plated dish of bright red and yellow tomatoes drizzled with olive oil and perfect, light wedges of fresh Buffalo mozzarella. The insalata ($14) comes with their special house-made burrata, a creamy orb, oozing with milk and silky smooth, which pairs winningly with artistic triangles of watermelon, buttery sprigs of mache, or lamb’s lettuce, and tomato to create a salty-sweet palette that combines crunchy with supple textures.

We started the night with a bottle of white lambrusco ($9 a glass, $33 a bottle), a rounder, fuller bubbly than your basic prosecco. This went well with the prosciutto crudo con fichi ($9), a plate of 18-month cured meat with black mission figs and salty shaved Parmigianino Reggiano. It also complemented the tartara di tonno ($11.50), a dish that really surprised me as the espresso-sized mound of yellowfin tuna tartar melded wonderfully with diced, wood-fired, roasted tomato, giving the raw, fresh fish a smoky tinge. Off the bar menu, we sampled the bruschetta con burrata e tartufo ($9), an airy crostini made with pizza dough bread and topped with cheese and black truffle pesto that pleasantly overrode my umami senses with each nibble.

These bites proved great, but the pizzas are the real stars. On one balmy evening, I headed down to PizzArte to meet Cilio and sample his favorite pies. First on the list: the verace ($19), a classic combo of San Marzano tomatoes, Buffalo mozzarella and fresh basil. With the first chew, I knew Cilio and his team of Italian chefs were on the right track. The dough had the proper tinge of sweetness to it, a nice char on the top of the pliable crust, and the dough holding the ingredients proved thin, with just enough thickness to secure the toppings. Fantastico.

Another aspect that shouldn’t be missed: the extensive list of affordable Italian wines. A bottle of the dark, berrytinged ’06 Produttori del Barbaresco ($55) paired nicely with the pizzas, like the diavola ($16). This pie created a completely different flavor sensation than the verace. Where the latter came out light and sweet, the diavola had a kick from thin strips of spicy salame. It maintained a brightness from the tomatoes but contained a heartier mouthfeel. Their namesake, the PizzaArte ($21), also leans on the savory side with meaty bits of speck thrown in with zucchini blossoms. The main difference with this pie is the use of burrata cheese and no tomato, leaving the dish a bit denser. I had my doubts about the tartufata ($23) because of the Gorgonzola. I would love to love that cheese, but I have found few that agree with my taste buds. However, on this pizza, mixed with pulverized walnuts, mozzarella and black truffle, the Gorgonzola sang, and for a moment I understood what the fuss was about. More of a dessert pizza, the dish came out sweet, savory and bursting with earthy goodness, a combo I can’t recommend enough.

For dessert, I adored the martini glass filled with fluffy, coffee-tinged tiramisu ($9), a not-too-sweet treat that balanced nicely with the fruity Brachetto D’Acqui ($10 a glass). In the end, what makes PizzArte work can be found in the pure joy and enthusiasm Cilio puts into his restaurant. A lawyer by day, he spends every night here, eating the food, talking to customers and really being a part of the business. When you talk to him, his excitement over his goods shines through, and with each bite and sip of wine, you can tell he feels at home and wants to share that comfort with his guests.

>> PizzArte

69 W. 55th St. (betw. 5th & 6th Aves.),

www.pizzarteny.com.

One thing that has made Mole such a hit is their namesake sauce. Made by chef Guadalupe Elizalde’s mother in Mexico, the rich, cocoa-tinged mole gets flown in each week and used on dishes like the pollo en mole poblano ($21), a half-chicken coated in Mama Elizalde’s culinary masterpiece. Guadalupe Elizalde, who is married to Cervera, also provides a hefty dose of the mild sauce in the enchiladas de mole poblano ($21), which come three to a plate, stuffed with tender chunks of chicken under a light coating of melted white cheese.

Though Mole is known for this popular sauce, they also get kudos for their guacamole (small $11, large $16), made fresh right at the table. I prefer it super spicy, and the avocado master complied by adding a healthy pinch of raw jalapeño and an extra squeeze of lime to the tomato, cilantro and onion. It is mashed in a traditional molcajete (stone mortar and pestle) and served with housemade tortilla chips.

The guacamole is a good place to start, since a first glance at Elizalde’s five-page menu can be daunting. I also recommend snagging one of their basic, limey margaritas ($11), which have a little kick from the chili and salt-lined rim. Once you settle into the first round of nibbles, order the margarita de la casa ($13); with the addition of Gran Gala, an orange-based liquor, the drink rounds out a bit smoother and has that extra kick. Pair this with the tostada de tinga ($9), two crisp tortillas piled high with shredded, smoky pork and lettuce. Just don’t try to eat this as finger food—grab a knife and fork, slather on some of the spicy chipotle sauce you’re provided with and dig in.

A nice thing about Mexican cuisine is that an assemblage of starters easily makes a full meal. An order of the nachos ($10) is hearty and simple to eat, since each chip gets an individual cheese and bean treatment. The Mexican quesadillas ($10) pack a savory punch with Oaxacan cheese and your choice of meat or mushroom filling. Or, for the less adventurous diner, go for the basic quesadilla ($9), a crisp meld of cheese and mild pico de gallo.

Then there are tacos. Lots and lots and lots of tacos. The best are the Bajastyle fish tacos ($21), which come three golden-fried flounder-stuffed corn tortillas to a plate. We also like the tender, shredded beef-stuffed tacos suadero ($19) and tacos Americano ($14)—mostly because the hard, crispy tortilla shell and ground beef reminded us of taco night as a child at home.

Back to the margaritas. While the ones we had came out fresh and tasty, the smoky margarita ($13) lacked any real smoke despite the addition of mezcal, and the fresh fruit margarita ($12) didn’t taste a thing like passion fruit. You can, of course, skip the tequila (but really, why would you?) and go for a Mexican beer ($7–$8). However, don’t pass over the cochinita pibil ($21), a main course rich with red chilies and savory shards of pork. They serve this Yucatan dish with a side of pickled onions and black beans, all of which you combine in a hot blue corn tortilla for your own personal taco.

It’s nice to see that Cervera can maintain consistency throughout his restaurants—given how packed Mole in Williamsburg was early on a Tuesday night, it’s a business model customers flock to. He has also conveniently placed the joint in one of the new high rises in the neighborhood, and I wouldn’t be surprised to find that most of his clientele lived there. Mind you, the food is good, but it’s not really a cuisine scarce in the area, given the already-established La Superior, Mesa Coyoacan and Viva Toro. But with a clean, sharp style inside and the safety of the trusted Mole name on the menu, this may be just the kind of place the new Williamsburg inhabitants want. 

>> MOLE 

178 Kent Ave. (betw. N 4th & N. 5th Sts.), 347-384-2300.

Their lack of air conditioning was sorely regretted when we were seated in the one spot that remained fan-less, though the situation was improved by our sharp waitress, who continued to bring us glasses of ice and tall bottles of water. Once cooled, we were able to enjoy a round of small plates and cocktails, the best found in the sweet and spicy squid ($12). With tender, fresh rings of meat, smokiness from the prosciutto and a bite from the chilies, the dish came together lovingly with the addition of cooked frisée, a happy surprise, since the leaf’s usual bitterness got mellowed out by the heat.

Chef Garrett Eagleton also makes a mean wild sturgeon ($22), and the fullbodied fish gets a French-tinged wash of vermouth with refreshing cucumber and lavender to brighten it. The simply braised pork shoulder ($24) also worked, with a side of fresh broccolini, corn and sweet carrots. Despite some hits, the menu, which changes from time to time, proved much heavier and heartier than I wanted for a hot summer day. The fresh baby corn salad ($6) fared better in the heat, though we also enjoyed a dish of typically salty pork rillettes ($8) and juicy grilled quail ($14).

One fun thing Eagleton and bar manager Dan Greenbaum have done is to create a list of pairing boards ($17 each). Combinations like milky burrata with braised celery, cool parsley and a mini Reisetbauer Blue Gin martini worked perfectly together, a far cry from the other radically different combinations, like the oh-so-rich and silky slab of foie gras with black olive shortbread and a tiny glass of sweet Pineau des Charentes.

This leads to the real star of The Beagle: the cocktails. Greenbaum, who formerly ran the bars at Brooklyn Social and at Inoteca Liquori with Piacentini, has created a superb list of pre-Prohibition-style drinks (all $12). Smooth and sweet, the Adonis combines fino sherry with sweet vermouth and orange bitters, a tincture that goes down like liquid candy. For a lighter drink, the crisp El Guero has a mild smoky tinge from Fidencio Joven mezcal but stays light due to a hefty dose of fresh lemon juice. On a completely different level is the super-bitter Astor Painless

Anesthetic, a mixture of gin, classic Armagnac, grape-noted Bonal, Cocchi Americano and orange bitters, which, like any good medicine, becomes addictive after a few sips. The Prince of Wales cocktail created a royal riot of sweet, bitter and bubbly all in one cup, the taste profile running parallel to a tabloid tale of the young blueblood.

But, hands down, my favorite cocktail was the only dog allowed in house—the Golden Dog. This tipple puts the mezcal to shame with its ber-smoky Talisker 10-year scotch, which, mixed with a sticky apricot liquor, Lillet and the herby Benedictine, makes it sing with tales of basement speakeasies and stolen cigars in a time when women weren’t allowed to smoke in public. You also can’t go wrong with some of their more basic cocktails, like the London buck or whisky smash, which features fresh peaches in the concoction.

The name of the restaurant-bar perhaps comes from Charles Darwin’s The Voyage of the Beagle, though the only hint that that’s the case comes from the bathroom doors, which sport the names "Charles" and "Emma" (Darwin’s wife). There certainly isn’t a nautical theme, but the 1900s Vienna-inspired décor proved quite nice. Also pleasant were the attentive, friendly staff, a treat to find in a fancy cocktail spot, which are commonly run by bored-looking model types. Of course, the neighborhood doesn’t lack places like this, but if they keep up the solid drinks, innovative bites and awesome help, The Beagle will continue its voyage. 

Of course, the menu has also changed quite a bit. For one, it offers much less than the Empire’s menu, which listed numerous burger and sandwich choices, a whole slew of breakfast options, and classic diner fare like chicken tenders, quesadillas and meatloaf. The new menu strikes a modern chord and is ambitiously executed by chef Jeremie Tomczak, an Aquavit alum. About half of it shies away from classic diner fare with entrées like scallops and fava beans ($21), squid a la plancha ($10) and the bloody Mary asparagus ($10)—an interesting take on gazpacho, that comes with a shot of Stoli vodka to mix in. The other half keeps true to diner tradition with a decent hamburger ($14), a so-so smoked pork chop ($26), a gooey grilled cheese ($13) and basic breakfast items, including a fried egg sandwich ($10) and biscuits with pork gravy ($15).

Despite the menu’s trendy offerings, as my dining partner so eloquently declared, "The key to any diner is in the meatloaf. If it sucks, the restaurant has failed." On a recent visit, we were able put that theory to the test, since The Highliner has added a classic meatloaf ($17) option. On first bite, my friend deemed the buoyant slice of saucy meat a success. The limpid mashed potatoes failed, however, as they had obviously spent too much time in the food processor and lacked both substance and flavor. I couldn’t find a fault in the light and creamy mac ‘n’ cheese ($11) served piping hot in a soup bowl. The soft noodles were coated in a crisp layer of cheese with downy dollops of tangy goat cheese—and adding a glass of the full-bodied Ala Nera Nero d’Avola ($8) certainly didn’t hurt the meal.

Off their latest menu, I tried the burrata ($11), which was fine but not the best or freshest I have had. The addition of firm, sweet, yellow, green and red Jersey tomatoes helped improve it, along with the olive oil, which sang with a dash of bright orange zest. I much preferred the watermelon salad ($8), also off their latest menu. The cubes of fresh yellow and pink fruit came laced with kalamata olives and chunks of salty feta. Another fun dish to get on a summer evening is their Highliner omelet, which you can make decadent with caviar and crme frache ($16) or keep on the simple side with ham, Swiss and gruyre ($10). Pair it with a Goose Island IPA ($7) and it’s the perfect nighttime breakfast before taking a stroll on the sunset-tinged Highline Park (the diner’s namesake), just a block away.

Should you just want a snack or dessert with a cup of coffee, The Highliner is good for that, too, though you won’t have a weatherworn waitress named Flo constantly refilling your cup with a sassy quip and a tired smile. The service on a recent Tuesday night proved excellent, and even as the tiny, sun-streaked space filled up, the staff stayed right on top of things. The meals might not be the most amazing, but the service, space and attitude of the joint keep it right where it should be—a simple diner in Chelsea. 

>> THE HIGHLINER 210 10th Ave. (at 22nd St.), 212-206-6206.

The diner formerly known as Empire: The Highliner.