After church, and after I had dinner at Hanabi Sushi
in Stony Point, NY, my parents drove me back into the city to meet back up with my wife and her parents for what would be dinner #2 for me. We met at the hotel and then headed down to Little Italy. I had been trying to figure out where to eat in Little Italy that wasn’t a tourist trap. Turns out, that’s not really possible, as far as I can tell. I tried to pick the place that was the least tourist trap-y. So we went to Angelo’s
in Little Italy.
When we got to Little Italy, I really felt like we were in Epcot Center if Epcot Center had a Soprano’s exhibit. There was a guy playing the accordion, and there were big fat dudes in jogging suits asking us if we had plans for dinner that night or if we needed a ride in a limo to somewhere. Fortunately, our cab dropped us off right in front of the restaurant, so we didn’t have to deal with that for very long.
When we got to Angelo’s we were seated quite quickly. I looked through the wine menu and opted for chianti for the table. It felt like it fit with the theme. To go with the chianti, I ordered the fried vegetables appetizer for the table. Because I know my father-in-law loves fried veggies, like I do.
It was good that we got an appetizer. Because the bread that they served tasted like it was a day or two old, which was problematic because the bread probably wasn’t that great to begin with.
The menu was rather large and gave us all plenty to choose from. My father-in-law got a steak with mushrooms, my mother-in-law got linguine with clams that was nuclear hot, for some reason. Even after her dish had been cleared for about five minutes, the place at the table where the dish had been was still radiating heat.
Sarah chose the manicotti. She had been making a lot of manicotti at home, which I have been loving, and she wanted to compare notes. Sarah enjoyed her manicotti, and if I recall correctly, was the only one at the table that night to join the clean plate club. The serving portion of the manicotti was two tubes. For everything else, the portions were gargantuan.
I got the fusilli in a bolognese sauce – mainly because I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a bolognese sauce. I thought I would be able to eat a second dinner that day. But I was still full from dinner #1 that I had eaten with my parents. It’s a shame because I did like my fusili.
Afterwards, we walked up and down Mulberry Street, the main street of Little Italy. Then, we headed down towards Chinatown. There wasn’t much to look at. The charm of either of those two neighborhoods is the bustle of people and the tiny little shops that seem to grow out of little holes in the wall. But it was 11pm on a Sunday night. The place was empty and everything was closed.