Bureaucracy Stinks/R.I.P. Sapore
New York City is one of the gastronomic capitals of the world, if not the capital of the world. Parisians, we can argue this one later, but please, this is my blog, allow me to make my point.
There are amazing restaurants, cafes, open air markets (ok, fine, this is where Paris has us beat) but some of my favorite places in the city are the small mom-and-pop run places, the ones that always know your name, that greet you with a complimentary glass of house wine when you cross the threshold, that know your order before you do, the ones that keep the bread - and the compliments- coming all night long. This place, for me, was a small little corner Italian restaurant called Sapore. Located on the the corner of Greenwich Street and Perry, I'd been visiting Sapore since I was a sophomore in high school. One of the best things about Sapore was Leo, a waiter who'd crushed on me and every other mildly attractive women who entered the restaurant, for as long as I'd been going there. He was the one who slipped me the wine, the desserts, the on the house meals for a long time (not to narc him out, because he was the best, but on my 19th birthday, he comped me and a dining partner a full bottle of wine, salads, entrees and dessert, all on the house). He was always happy to see us (my parents included) and made every attempt to get us seated and on our way to drinking cheap Italian wine as fast as possible.
But Leo wasn't the only great asset to Sapore. Sapore boasted some of the best pastas I've ever had. Even after a trip to Italy, from Rome to the Amalfi Coast to Florence, Neil and I still agreed that Sapore had better pastas than the homeland itself. The bolognese was one of the best on the menu: completely simple, easy, comforting. Another one of the favorites was Spaghetti Rustici, a simple spaghetti dish made with olives, tomatoes, anchovies and capers. In fact, I insisted on downing a portion of that the night before I ran the New York City Marathon. Another of the best options on the pasta menu was Penne Fiorentina, a dish made with pureed spinach, fresh ground pepper and a generous dollop of ricotta on top. It was my failsafe, my comfort food, my one true constant in a world of uncertainty...
...until they shuttered the windows of Sapore and announced in a small, printed off a home computer sign, that Sapore had in fact, lost its lease and would be closed until further notice. There was backlash from the community, food blogs roared in uprising. After all, the restaurant had been there for nearly 15 years with a loyal neighborhood following. The owner had printed directions to his other restaurant in Park Slope, Brooklyn: Sette Enoteca, saying that he would be happy to recreate any of Sapore's dishes. Well say no more!
We made it over to Sette on a Saturday night (it took us just over an hour from Harlem) and told the owner, who happened to be there that night, just how crushed we were that Sapore was no more. He was thrilled that we had made the pilgrimage to Sette and happily seated us in the outdoor seated area, which was covered for the night. Unfortunately, since this was a number of months ago, I don't remember exactly what it was that we ordered so I'll do my best. There was lamb, I do remember that. Which was unbelievable. For some reason, all lamb shanks that we order, are always compared to the lamb at Roberto Passon, which is in fact, rather incredible. This one was rather tasty, falling apart at the bone and melting in the mouth. The sardines (which are something Dad never forgoes when they are on the menu) were also grilled to perfection. We ordered a side of escarole which was perfectly bitter and went well with the lamb. We ordered two pastas: one which slips my mind, and the other I requested specifically from the kitchen: the penne fiorentina was exactly as I had remembered it. Perfect. At least now I know that whenever I need a little bit of comfort and certainty in the world, all I have to do is hop on the F train into Brooklyn. But honestly, bureaucracy stinks. So do rising prices. Come back, Sapore. We miss you.
R.I.P. Sapore
1997-2008
There are amazing restaurants, cafes, open air markets (ok, fine, this is where Paris has us beat) but some of my favorite places in the city are the small mom-and-pop run places, the ones that always know your name, that greet you with a complimentary glass of house wine when you cross the threshold, that know your order before you do, the ones that keep the bread - and the compliments- coming all night long. This place, for me, was a small little corner Italian restaurant called Sapore. Located on the the corner of Greenwich Street and Perry, I'd been visiting Sapore since I was a sophomore in high school. One of the best things about Sapore was Leo, a waiter who'd crushed on me and every other mildly attractive women who entered the restaurant, for as long as I'd been going there. He was the one who slipped me the wine, the desserts, the on the house meals for a long time (not to narc him out, because he was the best, but on my 19th birthday, he comped me and a dining partner a full bottle of wine, salads, entrees and dessert, all on the house). He was always happy to see us (my parents included) and made every attempt to get us seated and on our way to drinking cheap Italian wine as fast as possible.
But Leo wasn't the only great asset to Sapore. Sapore boasted some of the best pastas I've ever had. Even after a trip to Italy, from Rome to the Amalfi Coast to Florence, Neil and I still agreed that Sapore had better pastas than the homeland itself. The bolognese was one of the best on the menu: completely simple, easy, comforting. Another one of the favorites was Spaghetti Rustici, a simple spaghetti dish made with olives, tomatoes, anchovies and capers. In fact, I insisted on downing a portion of that the night before I ran the New York City Marathon. Another of the best options on the pasta menu was Penne Fiorentina, a dish made with pureed spinach, fresh ground pepper and a generous dollop of ricotta on top. It was my failsafe, my comfort food, my one true constant in a world of uncertainty...
...until they shuttered the windows of Sapore and announced in a small, printed off a home computer sign, that Sapore had in fact, lost its lease and would be closed until further notice. There was backlash from the community, food blogs roared in uprising. After all, the restaurant had been there for nearly 15 years with a loyal neighborhood following. The owner had printed directions to his other restaurant in Park Slope, Brooklyn: Sette Enoteca, saying that he would be happy to recreate any of Sapore's dishes. Well say no more!
We made it over to Sette on a Saturday night (it took us just over an hour from Harlem) and told the owner, who happened to be there that night, just how crushed we were that Sapore was no more. He was thrilled that we had made the pilgrimage to Sette and happily seated us in the outdoor seated area, which was covered for the night. Unfortunately, since this was a number of months ago, I don't remember exactly what it was that we ordered so I'll do my best. There was lamb, I do remember that. Which was unbelievable. For some reason, all lamb shanks that we order, are always compared to the lamb at Roberto Passon, which is in fact, rather incredible. This one was rather tasty, falling apart at the bone and melting in the mouth. The sardines (which are something Dad never forgoes when they are on the menu) were also grilled to perfection. We ordered a side of escarole which was perfectly bitter and went well with the lamb. We ordered two pastas: one which slips my mind, and the other I requested specifically from the kitchen: the penne fiorentina was exactly as I had remembered it. Perfect. At least now I know that whenever I need a little bit of comfort and certainty in the world, all I have to do is hop on the F train into Brooklyn. But honestly, bureaucracy stinks. So do rising prices. Come back, Sapore. We miss you.
R.I.P. Sapore
1997-2008
posted by Fat Sister | 12:03 PM
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