Hoo-doggy! A motherload of good signs can be found within a couple blocks on Grand Street, a street that heartily insists that there still is a Little Italy in Manhattan.
Need ravioli? They've got it, and you can choose your favorite purveyor. I just want to swoon when I walk down this street. Every storefront is an aesthetic dream, every sign boasting a birth year of 1901 or 1920 or somesuch.
For extra ecstasy, check out the inside tile job in Alleva. That thing should be in the Met!
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