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.

Photo courtesy of Pizza Roma

To open another pizzeria on Bleecker Street, home to institutions like John’s, serious newcomers like Keste and enough NYU student-targeting Famous Original Rays to start an army, seems like utter lunacy. Open in Battery Park City, on the Lower East Side, in Sheridan Square, you want to tell these delusional owners. Pretty much anywhere else, save perhaps the three square blocks of Little Italy itself, would be more amenable to your charms.

But Pizza Roma (259 Bleecker St., betw. Cornelia & Jones Sts., pizzaromanewyork.com) wouldn’t be swayed. In a whitewashed storefront that looks more like it ought to be selling slightly twee lingerie than pizza, they have staked their claim. And while it may baffle some window shoppers, they have perfected a crust, the owners say, that uses less yeast but is allowed to rise over 96 hours, making it a “healthier alternative” to traditional pizza.

About that I have my doubts—there’s still plenty of olive oil involved, and really, who besides lingerie models chooses pizza for its healthfulness?—but it is a genuine alternative to the others on the block. There is that room, which eschews the traditional pizzeria design tropes of dark wood, arched brick doorways as if to trompe l’oeil you into thinking you’re eating under the aqueducts and a roaring furnace of an oven in a prominent corner that manages to heat the place to inferno-like levels just to prove they’re not secretly microwaving your pie. Pizza Roma, in making the bold choice to not hit you over the head with its Italianness, actually feels Italian.

Rickety wooden chairs and small tables fill the dining room, whose one red brick wall is covered with slightly goofy art, and spiky-branched floral arrangements and miniature topiaries dot the perimeter. French doors open onto a cinder-block terrace in the back, so common to West Village properties and also, fortuitously, reminiscent of a side-street cafe in Rome. It’s not fancy, it’s not designed to within an inch of its life, it’s just clean, airy and charmingly ramshackle—very Italian.

Then there’s the pizza. Healthy or not, the crust is a thrill for those looking for a break from the tyranny of the Neapolitan charred thin crust that has gripped this city. That 96-hour method produces a base layer that’s much breadier, with a light, airy interior; more focaccia-like than any pizza crust you’ve seen in a long time. Toppings also skew different, and the simpler the better; slices of potato and rosemary spikes were a rich, earthy compliment to the yeasty chew of the crust, while a pizza of the day of whole green olives and deliciously wrinkled roasted cherry tomatoes added the occasional pop of intense flavor, still allowing the crust to shine through. Less successful are those that fall back into standard pizza territories; anything with a marinara base, which tasted tomato paste-y and one-dimensional, is better left alone.

It’s also provided in square slices, cut to order off long planks that are displayed proudly in a glass case that runs the length of the entranceway. This is what’s known as pizza al taglio, pizza by the cut, in the Roman style. It’s not a new innovation—Pie by the Pound, in the East Village, has been pushing an Americanized, more-is-more version of the technique for years—but the execution, and that crust, makes it stand out. It also, apparently, makes it conducive to franchising opportunities; a Pizza Roma counter has just opened up in Whole Foods’ Bowery location.

Though I still worry for the sanity of Pizza Roma’s owners, who decided their first New York City location (the first Pizza Roma is in Barcelona, though the owners are Italians) should be in the city’s pizza ground zero, they may well have bucked the odds and done the impossible: built an original pizzeria on Bleecker Street

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.

By Linnea Covington

On a recent Friday afternoon, as the staff prepared Accademia di Vino Broadway for dinner service, Kevin Garcia sat at the bar trying to figure out how to recreate a dish he sampled on a chefs’ tour of Sicily. The photo he pulled up on his phone showed a generous ball of fresh mozzarella, which, he said, was kind of a farce. Beneath a mop of silver and brown curling hair, Garcia’s eyes shone as he explained the commonly dense dish was in fact hollow, a pretend ball filled with air, yet it had such a pure mozzarella taste, the 40-year-old chef was determined to figure out how they made it.

Kevin Garcia

After 20 years cooking and studying Italian food, getting surprised about a dish is an anomaly in itself. But for Garcia, food has always been a part of his life. When he was a child, his parents centered time around the kitchen, making meals in their Connecticut home or on weekends, at their apartment on the Upper West Side. Through their love of cooking grew Garcia’s as well, and from a young age he knew he wanted to be a chef.

“I never did anything else except have a paper route when I was 15,” he said.

After high school, Garcia attended culinary academy at Johnson & Wales University in Rhode Island, where he simultaneously whetted his chops at the Italian restaurant Al Forno. It wasn’t until he came back to New York and got a job at Pino Luongo’s Coco Pazzo that he really started to dedicate himself to Italian cuisine. During that time he traveled to Italy for the first time, and met the man who would later change the way he viewed being a chef.

“It was a great entrée into the Italian world, and I met Cesare Casella who was my mentor and intro into all things Italian,” he said. “He taught me to be resourceful and cook regionally.”

Garcia stayed at Coco Pazzo for five years, honing his skills and eventually moving up to chef de cuisine.

When he left Coco Pazzo, Garcia bounced around, becoming the personal chef to Revlon CEO Ron Perelman, a chef at Jean-Georges Vongerichten’s Prime Steak House in Las Vegas, ran the kitchens at the Lucca in Florida and worked as chef de cuisine at Del Posto.

Almost every restaurant he has worked in has been Italian, which, given this devotion to a cuisine, proves unusual since he has no Italian blood in his family. His father is Cuban and his mother is from New York.

“Cuban cuisine is similar to Italian cuisine as it’s soulful, rustic and made with purpose,” he said.

Coincidently, Garcia’s current work at Anthony Mazzola’s restaurant ’Cesca and the two Accademia di Vinos brings him closer to where he grew up, and now lives. And, in what he sees as fate, ’Cesca lies 12 blocks away from where his parents met at St. Gregory the Great School when they were 6 years old.

“I thought it would be exciting to be at a restaurant in my parents’ old stomping ground,” he said.

To further his connection to Mazzola’s restaurants and the area, ’Cesca is also how he ended up with his fiancée and their 22-month-old son Jack. The couple met in high school originally, but never dated until three years ago when Elizabeth, whom he calls “Betty,” stopped at ’Cesca with his best friend, who is her cousin. Now, she is pregnant with their second child.

When he isn’t occupied making family ties, Garcia volunteers for special events at the Thanksgiving Farm at the Center for Discovery in Harris, N.Y., where he has volunteered since 2006. The farm works with disabled adults and children and has them grow all the organic vegetables, herbs and fruits that they eat and offer in a Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) operation.

“It gives them purpose. They sow the seeds, feed the animals and pick the vegetables,” said Garcia. “They also come from the idea that nutrition is the best healer.”

Even when he isn’t volunteering at the farm, he supports it by supplying the restaurants’ kitchens with goods from the farm nine months of the year. He also gets the occasional cut from one of the rare Chianina cows that were brought over from Italy by Casella, bred in Texas, and then brought to the farm.

Back at the Accademia di Vino Broadway, the chef busied himself thinking about the new fall menu. Squash, he said, was definitely on the list, be it in ravioli, risotto or drizzled with chestnut honey in the antipasti. Also, he wanted to bring back the famous pizza alla griglia with roasted pumpkin, pancetta and caramelized onions, a sweet and savory combo that melts in the mouth.

As he contemplated the menu, the staff settled in for their own family-style meal.

Garcia looked around the restaurant, content, and said, “Most people’s best meal memories are at home, and I want them to feel like they are eating at home here, too.”

Since opening Sfoglia on a barren stretch of Lexington Avenue in 2006, husband-and-wife owners Ron Suhanosky and Colleen Marnell-Suhanosky have been inundated with hungry Upper East Siders who were thrilled to have a sought-after pasta joint in the neighborhood. The couple made their first foray into cookbooks last September with Pasta Sfoglia (Wiley and Sons, Inc., $29.95), which won a 2010 James Beard Award in the single subject category and was included on several fall best cookbook lists.

Ron Suhanosky says he will reveal plans for another restaurant in the coming weeks—but it won’t be in New York.

Ron, who deals with the savory side of the menu while Colleen handles bread and pastries, sat down on a recent rainy afternoon to talk about how best to get a reservation at Sfoglia, customer pet peeves and when his wife once poisoned the family. We’ll have to wait to get Colleen’s side of the story, as she was due to return from Italy the following day, where she’d been living with their kids for a year so they could learn Italian.

Q: How does one go around writing a cookbook?
A: Well, you hire somebody to help you.

Q: To do the writing?
A: Not necessarily. I think that the great success to a cookbook is if you translate a recipe from a commercial kitchen to a home kitchen. That’s really the difficulty in creating a cookbook. I didn’t have too much trouble doing that. I had help from my co-writer, Susan Simon, and she’s written cookbooks before so she was able to help translate a recipe to the home kitchen.

Q: What is the biggest misconception about cooking pasta at home? People think it’s an easy, simple meal.
A: Great pasta dishes are all about the marriage of the sauce and the pasta and the pasta water—which is one of the recipes that I fought really hard to have in that book, because it’s such a major part of each recipe. My editor was like, “There is a recipe for pasta water?” And there is: You have plain water and you’re putting pasta in it and there is salt and you’re using that as part of an ingredient to the finished dish. That really helps the marriage of the two. The misconception about that in America is that you put the sauce over the pasta, and really the whole idea is that you are supposed to marry the two together and create this unbelievable bowl of pasta.

Q: Have you ever used jarred sauce at home?
A: No, never done that. It’s funny that you bring this up because I’ve been approached recently to create my own tomato sauce. And I won’t do it because it defeats the purpose of what I’m trying to get across and what I believe in—that you really can make a quick tomato sauce. There’s nothing difficult about it. In the time that you cook pasta, which is in 7-8 minutes, you could have a pasta sauce.

Q: What goes in it?
A: Garlic, olive oil, tomato and basil. You let it cook and then you add the pasta to the sauce.

Q: Between you and your wife, who’s a better cook? Although I guess that’s not the best question because you’re savory, she’s sweet.
A: Colleen is a good cook, although there have been times that she has actually poisoned us. When we’re living in Nantucket it was all over the news. She is a forager and she once picked what she thought was wild asparagus but it was blue indigo so we had to get our stomachs pumped.

Q: What is blue indigo?
A: It’s like a hallucinate drug. I was drinking that charcoal shake [in the hospital] and it was awful.

Q: So she’s not allowed to forage anymore?
A: Not for me. She can forage for herself.

Q: Do you have any guilty pleasures when it comes to food? Like Kraft macaroni and cheese, Twinkies?
A: I love peanut M&Ms—that is what I call my piato uniquo in Italian. It’s a one-plate meal. Every now and then I binge on a bag of potato chips like any American would.

Q: So no Olive Garden?
A: No, no, I rather starve than eat that kind of stuff.

Q: Would you ever consider opening another restaurant in New York City?
A: Yes, actually I’m considering it right now.

Q: Can you tell us where, or is it a secret?
A: I can’t.

Q: When will we know?
A: Maybe in a month. But it’s not in New York City, or New York State, for that matter.

Q: You’ve been a guest on the Martha Stewart show before. You liked doing it?
A: I wouldn’t say that I liked it. I would say more that I was told that I was good on television so that’s how I am going to pursue it.

Q: Are you nervous on television?
A: No, I just don’t want to go about it with an ego. My approach about everything really has been with my ego just below the radar. I think it is better received that way. It’s more important that I get across what I’m trying to teach people or express to people. Not so much about me being the chef.

Q: Like Rachael Ray?
A: Well, that’s entertainment. Mine is more practical.

Q: This place is always jam-packed. Do you have any tips for people who want to dine here at a normal hour?
A: Getting through to us on the phone is a difficult process because we can only answer the phone when the phone calls come in, and we really do have two phone lines and we only have one person working the phones. What I tell people is to email their requests. We have a great website that people can go on and look at the menu and preview what the restaurant’s about.

Q: Any pet peeves that diners do?
A: Last night, actually, I had this incident that was kind of funny. I took a walk-in party of two. Seemed like a young hip couple. She was looking at the menu and she looked like she was perplexed about what to order and before I could even get into any detail about the menu she asked me if I had chicken piccata or veal milanese. And I was so close to letting out of my mouth, “I think you’re in the wrong part of this town. Maybe you should be downtown in Little Italy because that is where they carry that stuff.” I literally went on Facebook and posted it on my Facebook page—all these question marks: chicken picatta? Wrong part of town! I talked her into getting the pappardelle Bolognese. We brought out the pasta and literally she started picking off the pieces of parsley that we sprinkled on top. I just thought, those are the people—I wish I had some sort of doorbell at the front so they’d let me know that they were coming in and [I] could say, “No that’s OK—take a right turn down the street, there’s a place that serves that kind of stuff.”

Q: If somebody does send back food, chefs don’t do anything bad to it. Not here, of course, but in general.
A: No, no. You mean like if it has fallen on the floor, do we put it back on the plate?

Q: Or if they are allergic to something, do you just pick it off?
A: We just make fun of them in the back.

—
Transcript has been edited for brevity and clarity.

Crimson candleholders and other subtle touches add small splashes of color in an otherwise mostly beige space.

As fussy as this all may sound, it really works wonders. Sometimes a restaurant can get too caught up in a philosophy and the food and service suffer. Not Rouge Tomate. My partner and I were truly overcome by the intensity and freshness of the flavors, and by some of the most unusual but effective combinations I’ve encountered since Paul Liebrandt was at the stoves at Atlas combining lamb tenderloin with cardamom and champagne grapes.

The menu proudly lists the local farms and fisheries that use sustainable practices and supply the kitchen. Executive chef Jeremy Bearman worked the kitchens at L’Atelier de Joel Robuchon in Las Vegas and db Bistro Moderne in Manhattan. He is more than up to the uncommon and rather daunting task of fulfilling the principles of S.P.E. His dishes soar with flavor. And the emphasis on freshness, especially now that spring is in full swing, is almost startling.

The entire staff seems genuinely proud and happy to be working there. Our dapper server, Adrian, is consummately skilled and centered, and he guided us in all the right directions during our rather atypical ride.

Even beverage director Rainlove Lampariello’s house cocktails are quite unusual. “Ramos Fizz” is an intensely refreshing though improbable combination of gin, lemon juice, orange juice, orange bitters, yogurt and soda. “After Eight” blends vodka, homemade mint juice and Valrhona chocolate puree, but instead of just tasting like a chocolate mint, it has a certain fresh milky quality, with plenty of fresh mint flavor.

The tawny slices of bread are served, at least currently, with a thick verdant puree of asparagus sprinkled with crumbled walnuts. Each mouthful makes you deeply thankful that it’s finally spring.

We loved a chilly and ruddy gazpacho gelée topped with avocado mousse, one of the tastiest ideas gazpacho ever encountered.

A fat slice of duck and pistachio pâté is plated with crunchy pickled rhubarb chunks and pickled spring onions, with browned slices of sourdough toast, whole grain mustard and pureed rhubarb. I’ve never had—nor heard of—pickled rhubarb, but it turned out to be another very good idea.

Slices of house-cured Alaskan king salmon are on one of the most artfully arranged plates I’ve ever seen. Tiny baby flowers are placed all around the gleaming white plate, which is centered by carefully stacked tender-crisp haricots verts stirred with dilled thick Greek yogurt and surrounded by lines of sweet mustard.

Grass-fed New York strip steak is served in ruby and buttery slices that are literally spoon tender. In fact, all the dishes were so user-friendly that I didn’t touch my knife all night. A potato fleischnacke (pureed potatoes wrapped in pasta dough and sliced) is topped by a heap of mâche and pickled ramps, finished with a warm minced mushroom vinaigrette.

Firm, snow-white halibut is crusted with crushed hazelnuts, and set on a bed of cool soba noodles, which keep the fish from overcooking. The dish also features strips of jicama and radish, and the plate is strewn with finely sliced young cucumbers.

The dessert course is accorded as much importance as the other courses—in fact, the menu refers to it as the “Third Course.” Pastry chef James Distefano and chef Bearman are right on the same page.

Mango and pineapple carpaccio features coconut tapioca parked on a thick layer of rummy macadamia cake, draped with shavings of mango and pineapple and finished with mango and pineapple sorbet.

Happy is the banana who wanders into Distefano’s kitchen area: a luscious banana-chocolate petit-four is alongside a caramelized banana Napoleon, roasted banana sorbet and a demitasse of thick hot cocoa.

The operative word to describe everything about Rouge Tomate, from the food to the service to the décor, is balance. And it’s the kind of balance that very few other restaurants come this close to achieving. Lots of conspicuously interesting and in-the-know people come to Rouge Tomate, and it’s certainly easy to see why.

tom@hugeflavors.com

Rouge Tomate
10 E. 60th St.
Between Madison and
Fifth avenues
646-237-8977
Entrees: $24 to $39

The convivial Fabio is unusually eager to please. If you somehow can’t find precisely what you want on the vast menu (and we certainly did), or if you want any dish prepared in any special way, the chef is only too happy to oblige you, provided he has the necessary ingredients on hand, and he usually does. He is completely adept at the cookery of northern and southern Italy, having cooked his way through several of the best restaurants in Rome, where most Italian cuisines are served.
Fabio’s crab cake is proud and high and fragrant, with not a jot of filler—nothing but buttery chunks of jumbo lump crabmeat.
Enormous fried calamari rings are unusually tender, especially given how large they are. The accompanying warm marinara sauce was quite thoughtfully prepared, not just splashed into a bowl from a big pot the way it too often is.
Fettuccine alla Nicola is magically soft and creamy, yet without an ounce of cream. Ground veal and sliced shiitake caps enjoy their delicately truffled tomato gravy; the dish needs to be finished with freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano, and so it is.
Shrimp and lobster risotto features chunks of lobster tail and claw meat, and carefully cooked shrimp, simmered in their shells to enhance the flavor. The risotto itself was pure and velvety with just the right amount of thickened liquid.
Veal Toscano is a most welcome spin on veal Milanese: A pounded, breaded and fried slab of veal loin is totally engulfed by a lightly dressed salad of quarter-inch cubes of buffalo mozzarella, sliced kalamata olives, diced tomatoes, diced avocado and leafy lettuces. Even with all that going on, the sweet flavor of the veal still came sailing through.
A nice hunk of lean grilled swordfish arrives in a lemony white wine and caper sauce. We should all avoid imported swordfish because it’s overfished and high in mercury, but domestic swordfish is fine, according to recent research. I also think domestic swordfish tastes better.
Ricotta cheesecake often seems too wet to me, but Fabio manages to pull off a firm and eggy disc of cheesecake with plenty of heft and just the right level of moisture.
“Fabio’s Special Dessert” is a bracing mélange of grapes, pineapple, strawberries, cantaloupe and orange arranged over and around a scoop of vanilla ice cream, finished with a good dollop of Grand Marnier and a fluttering of chopped fresh mint.
It must be said that, as the large dining room fills up, which it does most evenings, the staff seems overwhelmed. I would recommend filling out the staff a bit.
Fabio Piccolo Fiore demonstrates yet again why New York City is so well known all over the world for its great Italian restaurants.

Fabio Piccolo Fiore
230 E. 44th St.
Between Second and Third avenues
212-922-0581
Entrées: $18 to $45, most under $30

tom@hugeflavors.com