Tombolino's Lunch Special

11.95 gets you: Eggplant Rollatini, Soup or Salad (neither is even close to skimpy, the soup is a meal on its own), dessert and coffee or espresso. Even on Saturdays. (Other entrees were 2-3 dollars more, unless you want steak which will run you around $22.) So is it good?

You bet your socks! The kind of socks that you need because you're suffering from severe blisters. So bet 'em.

First, the white bean escarole soup on display in the picture was hearty, and not overly-beany which I despise. Plus, the taste was fantastic. I wanted a whole jug of it to save for the upcoming winter months. Unfortunately, the soup by itself is $8.00 Boo. But I loved it. Adored it. Yet another reason why I need a food processor. Though, I probably don't for that type of soup. Tomatoes, onions, white beans, and escarole in a tomato-esque, chicken (I think) broth.

The eggplant rollatini portion size was small by appearance, but I was so stuffed from the soup and Addeo bread (best bread in the BX, maybe the country) that it was fine. Tasty morsel, with delicious broccoli (yes, delicious) and a giant tater tot creation that probably has a fancy French name I can't spell on the side. I took most of it home, and can't wait to eat it for lunch one of these days.

I opted for the espresso and the Italian vanilla ice cream sprinkled with almonds and topped with a maraschino cherry over the Italian cheesecake. I'm not a huge cheesecake fan in general, and the Italian version is a bit too cakey for my taste. Lovely, and the perfect topper to a great lunch.

But better than that was the company, my amazingly awesome 90 year old grandfather, who kept me entertained with stories the entire time. Lunch special was great, company was great, price was great. Can't go wrong!

Rosie's. Sammie's Counterpart: Bronxville Orig!

For my mom's birthday, I decided to take her out to her favorite restaurant. Rosie's. Rosie's is a quaint restaurant on the corner in Bronxville, across from the hospital. Sammie's Downtown, a delicious restaurant on the main drag, is Rosie's spawn. Therefore, Rosie's is the original, and equally delicious.

We started with a bottle of New Zealand sauvignon blanc (171 on the wine list). Crisp, cold, and smooth. We broke bread, which was fluffy on the inside and crunchy on the outside, served warm with ricotta cheese instead of butter, or olive oil. We ordered the melanzane rustica appetizer, which was eggplant, cheese, and spinach in a tomato-marscapone sauce. Delectable.

Moving to the entree, my mom ordered the ravioli quattro formaggi, which is 4 cheese ravioli. Served with green and yellow zerbra stripes and a dash of Parmesan, it was rich without being oily. My spaghetti umberto, which consists of meatballs, in-season zucchini, and thick spaghetti served in a tomato-marscapone sauce. Heaven on earth, and by far my favorite dish on the menu.

For dessert, my mom ordered key lime pie as her birthday cake. So different, but so melt-in-your-mouth yummy. Fluffy rather than smooth, it was a little slice of whipped heaven on a graham cracker crust. Fantastic!

Lavagna. Like Lasagna with a V

Brad and I went to Lavagna last night. Possibly my favorite tucked-away restaurant in Manhattan for bang for buck. And it's Italian, which is surprising for me, because I'm not necessarily a proponent of Italian restaurants. We drove into Alphabet City (the restaurant is on 5th Street between Ave. A and Ave. B, which usually is fine but turned out to be a mistake, for the parking outlook was quite abysmal. After driving around for at least twenty minutes, we finally parked and walked over. Slightly annoyed with the parking experience, we then were seated at a table touching elbows on either side right next to the kitchen. It was as close as you can get to a German beer hall without a stein. Brad couldn't really hear me from across the table, but both of us could here the first date conversation taking place next to us. Yippeeeee.

However, waiters and waitresses were very attentive with the water, which is good, because Brad is a very dehydrated young fellow. We ordered: homemade pappardelle with rabbit and a glass of my favorite Malbec (Altos Las Hormigas). Brad ordered the same thing, as per usual. Well, when the food came, I forgot that I was cramped between a strange first date and a man in a long sleeved jean shirt. The rabbit was sweet and tender, the pasta was soft and smooth, and the wine was delectable. Man, oh, man. I ate as slowly as possibly, savoring the subtle taste of tyme and salt, and Brad commented that he could have eaten the entire portion in three bites: 1) because it was small, and 2) because it was delicious. He then continued that he wished he could have an entire plate of it. Ditto.

Zero Otto Nove

Ahhhh, my first foray back home in the Bronx. My brother has an apartment on Hughes Street, and we agreed to meet for dinner on one of my favorite streets in all of NYC, Arthur Ave. This, THIS, ladies and gentlemen, is the real Little Italy. The one with the crazy grandmothers and their evil eye. The place where bread disappears before it can even be placed on a shelf. A place where English speaking minorities gather with consternation, gazing in shop windows with dead, skinned animals hanging by their hooves. Yes, this is the Bronx, my Bronx, and this is where, according to renowned food critics, the best pizza in New York City currently finds a home. So of course, as a foodie myself, I had to try it, right? Right.

When I think of pizza, I think of simplicity. Good sauce, quality mozzarella, fresh basil, and soft but sturdy dough, made with NYC water. I think of Grimaldi's in Brooklyn and coal ovens. I think of Friday nights as a child, coming home from basketball practice to a warm, thin, white cardboard box that held pizza. A great word for a child, two z's put back to back. Fun to write, fun to eat.

I was NOT disappointed. Ok, well, I was slightly disappointed, but then everything was redeemed. We decided to order mussels as an appetizer. The sauce was watery and overly fishy, and a lot of of mussels were invisible. Shell upon shell turned up empty. My brother and I were pretty darn hungry, so we dipped our Tuscan (no salt) bread into the fishy-runny substance anyway, soaking up the garlic and tomatoes and "help-I'm-drowning-in-this-ocean-puddle-that's-been-in-the-sun-for-too-long" taste. The $8 glass of Chianti helped wash it down and was actually spectacular. One of the best restaurant wine-by-the-glass experiences I have ever had, actually. But then, THEN, the pizza came.

Pizza. Say it with me. It's fun :-D

My brother ordered Caprese. Simplicity, like I said, was valued in our household. Fresh mozzarella circles, perfect cherry tomatoes that transport you back to rolling Italian hills, spicy arugula, and soft, chewy, oven-roasted-to-perfection dough with just enough of that burned oven taste.

Now, I have to be different. So as I scoured the menu, I came across something so unheard of in my food repertoire, that of course I had to give it a whirl. It's the very last pizza on the menu, and a specialty of the house. It's called La Cirilo and, at first glance, does not sound like pizza at all. Knowing that I could have a slice of my brother's more traditional order, I decided to go for it. Ok, it's true, my arm didn't need much twisting...

The dough of the gods stays the same. The tomato sauce is substituted a butternut squash puree with cream of truffle. Mushrooms are added for good measure, and dollops of fresh mozzarella top it all off. The pizza is sweet and wonderful. The mozzarella is just salty enough to combat the almost dessert-like aspect of the butternut squash puree. And the mushrooms? Well, I don't really like mushrooms to be honest (not that it stops me from ordering something that otherwise sounds other-earthly...). Rich, sweet, salty, and a little kick from the black pepper. I was quite full, so I had to take it to go, and let's just say I haven't looked forward to leftovers this much in a long time. And, I was disappointed I couldn't finish it right then and there, because, while every physical instinct was telling me to stop, that I was full, that if I have another bite I might explode like Oprah did when she created that balloon effigy filled with potato chips and pretzels and made it explode on television after she had lost all that weight, every mental instinct, every ounce of dopamine in my body, every thought in my mind was telling me to continue. It was that good. (To be honest, I'm munching on it right now... still glowing!)

So why zero otto nove? That translates to 089, which is the area code for Salerno, a seaside town in Italy (and home to my grandfather's family!). This is where the chef, Roberto Paciullo, emigrated from. And thank goodness he did!

**(He also owns Roberto, one of my favorite restaurants in Little Italy, and a crowd favorite as well, which makes getting a seat rather difficult. More traditional Italian is found here, and it's scrumptious if you're willing to deal with the usually long wait. But you can easily have a glass of delectable wine (or a trendy cocktail, whichever you prefer) while you're conversing with good friends, so in my book, it's all good, and definitely worthwhile.)