The shop is dimly lit and sparsely stocked. Pepperoni and salami hang from above, beneath a ceiling of pressed tin and before a backdrop of empty green shelves. Keep walking, under the skylight, past the big Toledo scale, and you'll come to a small cafe furnished with chrome tables under cloths with chairs that must hail from the Nixon administration.
The walls of the trattoria are paneled, the lights are florescent, and the back-room ambiance makes you feel like you've stumbled in on a secret meeting-place. A flight of red-railed stairs goes up to a second-floor dining room, which is closed and dark, and strangely beckoning.
Proprietor and cook, Seline Dell'Orto (James Manganaro's grand-niece), leaves her kaffe klatsch to step behind the counter and say, "Come over here and tell me what you want." It's like being fed by your Italian aunt--warm, welcoming, and a little brusque. She heaps a plate with macaroni and when you say, "That's plenty," she ignores your request, heaping on another spoonful or two, for which you will be grateful. The food is good.
I asked her about the sign chalked out front: "M. Foods is not connected to Hero Boy; but that's old news!" She spoke bitterly of the rift between Manganaro's and the Hero Boy cafe next door as if the wound were fresh, the rift recently torn, as if Hero Boy were an upstart in the neighborhood. But it turns out that Hero Boy opened half a century ago and this feud has been going on for decades. That's authentically Italian, too--it's not an Italian family unless somebody's not speaking to somebody.
I asked how the grosseria was doing, with all the changes in the neighborhood, and she said they're not going anywhere, despite the disturbing influx of foreign investors and rising Con-Ed prices. "This summer," she said, "we're doing it European style." What does that mean? "No lights!"
I had just missed meeting her father, but Sal still works in the shop. On Manganaro's website it says, "Watch Sal at his espresso machine and imagine what he thinks of the Johny come latelies who think they understand coffee." This quote sums up the Manganaro's experience and reminds me of the conversation I had with Annie of DeRobertis' Pasticceria, who said, “People come in and tell me I don’t know how to make cappuccino. They tell me, 'Starbucks makes it this way.' I tell them, 'I’m here before Starbucks.'"
Manganaro's was here before Starbucks, too. So go in and tell them what you want--but don't tell them how to make it or serve it. Just eat it.
10 comments:
The feud with te neighboor went to court. Both were Manganaro and the neighboor had to change the name. The story was on the cover of the NYT 3 or 4 years ago.
Let me see if I have this. These yunnies walk into these Italian institutions, tell them they are making the coffee incorrectly, and proceed to invoke the name Starbucks. That, golden children, is the penultimate definition of assholes.
asshole is right. but don't you mean ultimate?
yeah, assholes they are. I'd still prefer to label them as narcissists -- more precise and ad nauseam.
fugeddaboutit -- STUGOTS or Vaffanculo or Stronzo, these Yunnies are
The Yunnies and Hipsters don't have respect for places like Manganaro's. Hopefully, it will survive these rough times.
Little do they know the food there is better than any of these trendy dumps replacing the old spots. The trendy places could vomit on a triangle plate, garnish with green herbs and call it "contemporary cuisine" and the Yunnies and Hipsters will eat it because it's trendy.
Yes, the Yunnies will eat all kinds of traif. This place is really worth visiting - it's even stranger and more interesting than the old stuffed easter bunnies in the window let on!
Love these Hell's Kitchen treasures!
just give these guys your business and give them a reason to stick around. besides, I'd be a bit pissed if they weren't there with their fresh mozz. a little saltier but not as cream heavy as joe's on sullivan and more character than the mozz dipaolos. and eat as much of it as you can before stuffing it in the fridge. it is much better closer to room temp. *shrug*
-jon
Don't care how good the food is, the family still in the old store (at least the women we met) were total jerks. I brought my grandfather and mother and aunt back there for a special nostalgia trip cause they all grew up across the street and were customers of the original shop and we were confused by the crazy signs outside the two shops and asked what was going on and the women treated us like dirt. I literally thought they were going to attack us, I actually stood in front of my mother because I thought I was about to have to protect her, these women were that bitter and angry. Even after we explained we were from the old neighborhood and had moved before the 2nd shop appeared (over 50 years ago!!) and even apologized for our not being up to date (no idea how we could have been) they still treated us like dirt. It was really sad because the old store wasn't like that, no one treated you like dirt, they treated you like family. This poor family is trying so hard to keep the store "the same" as it used to be but it couldn't have been farther from the spirit of the original store. I hope someday they get it back.
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