Patsy's

Mom and Dad spent a day in the city and took me and my long time friend/roommate FoxyLady out to dinner. They were going to mass at St. Patrick's Cathedral before meeting us at Patsy's. No, not Patsy's the pizzeria, but Patsy's the nice Italian restaurant in midtown.

Unfortunately, I rolled out of bed and into work that Sunday so I wasn't exactly dressed for the occasion. FoxyLady had to bring me something from home to change into, but it all worked out. And I have a confession to make. I used my manipulative powers to get us seated without having the entire "party" present. Mom told me they needed our table at eight o'clock so we were going to have an hour and fifteen minutes to eat and scramble. I didn't want to rush dinner so FoxyLady and I showed up around 6:30. I batted my eyelashes and asked in the sweetest voice I could muster if they wouldn't mind seating us before my parents arrived; I was just coming off a long day of grueling work; and my parents, the good devout Catholics they are, were going to race over right after mass. The host must have liked me because we were seated and a bottle of white wine was on its way to the table in a matter of minutes.

Our server deserves his own blog entry, but here goes the abridged caricature. He was a tall elderly gentleman in his penguin suit with spastic white hair, and black, thick-rimmed, thick-lensed glasses that he was constantly nudging higher on his nose in between looking at us and scribbling down our dinner choices. He had a strict friendliness about him. He didn't mutter one extraneous word all evening. When we asked him a question we got the short and fast response, but without being rude. It made us smile and laugh more than anything. If we were debating between items A and B on the menu and asked his opinion, without even hesitating, he would write down the proper choice on his trusty notepad. And when we wavered between ordering dessert or not, he knew just the trick. He wheeled the dessert cart over to the table and pointed out each one, which ones were his favorites and boom. We were sold.

For our starters we went with clams arreganata, or littleneck clams stuffed with breadcrumbs, garlic, Parmigiano-Reggiano, oregano and fresh parsley; and a plate of cold antipasto served with grilled vegetables, roasted peppers, fresh mozzarella, and prosciutto and melon. The clams were sizzling hot off the shells and light and crispy. The antipasto was the perfect size for a table of four.

For the main entrees Mom and FoxyLady had their signature lasagna, I tried their
spaghetti and meatballs thanks to the servers voiced opinion, and Dad tried their rigatoni with sausage. Mom and FoxyLady loved their lasagna. I snagged one multi-layered bite and the sweet marinara sauce with the thick creamy ricotta made my tastebuds very happy. I can't remember the last time I ordered spaghetti and meatballs. It was probably when I was a pre-teen. Normally I go for the creamy sauces or pesto, but I'm glad I went with the Italian classic this time. Patsy's kept it simple. The spaghetti was cooked al dente, the sauce was thick with fresh chunks of tomato, and the meatballs were right up there with my Dad's (I know he's reading this with a smile).

We were stuffed, but Dad insisted we couldn't end the night without having dessert. We would have been fine with one, but our server would not have accepted that for an answer so off we went: a chocolate mousse cake, a cheesecake, and a moist rum cake. The chocolate mousse cake was the only one that really stood out. We were fighting at the table over who got the last forkful. The cake part was dense and moist and the mousse part was the same way, it was more like a chocolate fudge cake than a mousse cake. I tried the rum cake after some hemming and hawing from Dad (his favorite last words are how can you be half Italian and not like...), but I have to admit and much to my Dad's disappointment, rum cake is not really my thing.

Just a reminder in case you missed it at the top, Patsy's is not to be confused with the pizzeria joint of the same name. And when I went to Patsy's website I found this very amusing. In big bold letters at the top of the page by its location it says, "One and Only One Location." Yes, they're right, there's only one real Patsy's, and there's only one word I can say about it-go.

236 W 56th St, between Broadway & 8th Ave
212-247-3491