Il Baggato--Manhattan

212.228.0977

Had another nostalgic night in the East Village the other Friday. Yes, I was out on a Friday, once again with my wife, and once again instantly sad that I'm getting old. This time we ate at this Italian place that she used to love that I'd never been to. The owner was cruising around table to table in a cheesy politician sort of way, quipping about how much wine they drank or how the garlic must be sliced thin but not too thin and I was thinking that he's a total phoney.

Then Bam! I had a dish of five simple ingredients that was shit yourself good. I still can't believe how good it tasted. It was a special, spaghetti with oil, garlic, salt and parm. Mami jami. Everything else was solid, but so pale in comparison to the gleaming light that was this miracle bowl of spaghetti.

By the time the guy got to me I was so spyched to talk to him, that I was hoping he would dish out one of those cheesy puns just to bring me back to earth. So much for being a phoney. I would walk around with my dick in my hand too if I knew that spaghetti dish had my back.

All's Well--Brooklyn

(347) 799-2743

Went there with the polygamist-four the other day for dinner. I'd walked by it a bazillion times, not realizing that it had changed in the same way most of North Williamsburg has, ie., Polish to Trendy Youngish American. Sadly, it's more of the same. I'm starting to get sick of the fact that every restaurant that opens in my neighborhood is nothing more than a different twist on what Dumont and Diner were doing ten years ago. Fortunately for me, this place gave me something else to talk about, the handling of corked wine.

It's been a while since I've discussed how unfriendly and inhospitable service can ruin a chef's good intentions. Once you have a snide waitress be "annoyed" it affects your entire perception of the place. In this instance, we had a bottle of corked wine. It was evident to me (who for once sat on the inside--as I am a gentleman and almost without exception deposit my lovely wives on the bench so that I can stare lovingly into their eyes, and their eyes only) that she went to the bar, took a swig, and confirmed to herself that we could not be trusted and were trying to get the restaurant to open another bottle of the exact same wine. She returned to tell us that it wasn't corked with such disdain you'd think we were dressed as SS officers, clearly gloating that she had uncovered our conspiracy of cheating the restaurant out of a bottle of wine that we wouldn't drink in the first place.

At this point, if I weren't older and more humble, I would have had a long-winded, profane diatribe about the server's ignorance of the collective food and beverage knowledge at the table (including ASA wine credentials), as well as her ignorance of the industry as she clearly did not know that any restaurant can return the corked bottle for full credit, how the owner would have been displeased with her overall lack of hospitality, etc... But I'm older and wiser you know? You're not reading this to hear about some waitress that was potentially having a bad day, you want to know my take on the restaurant as a whole. How it fits into the overall socio-economic fabric of the neighborhood. Basically, whether or not it merits a visit.

So with all of that....How was the food? Who gives a shit when you're being served by Cruella de Vil. Honestly, I'm still rankled by it. Actually, I barely remember the food. My notes said that the entrees were prepared well, but in terms of cuisine it's more of the day special menu's, comforty, bacon infused, blah, blah, blah. I'm shocked at how packed the place was, that's for sure, which only means that I'm ahead of the curve in boredom. I do have notes that the fig thing was disgusting. Though by the time we got to dessert I wanted to punch someone in the face so I wouldn't necessarily take my word for it.