Lost City Asks "Who Goes to Dominick's?"

My latest "Who Goes There?" column for Eater takes me back to The Bronx's Belmont neighborhood for the first time since I visited Mario's two years ago. As chance would have it, Dominick's is right across the street from Mario's. Between those two times, I managed to get to Liebman's Deli in Riverdale. Next time, maybe Morris Park or City Island.

Who Goes There? Dominick's Restaurant

An old Italian lady gets out of her car on Arthur Avenue. With her is a woman on crutches. She is younger but somehow less spry. "So, where shall we eat?" asks the younger woman. "Well," says the old lady in a voice of authority, "there's Dominick's—that's one."

There's Dominick's. The Arthur Avenue area of the Bronx boasts many fine, and not so fine, Italian restaurants. But when you think of the street, a few names pop up immediately and always: Mario's, Roberto's, and Dominick's. I've had good food at all three, but at Dominick's you also get an experience. It is one of those New York eating institutions with its own don't-ask-just-eat way of doing things. Basically a Roman tavola calde removed to The Bronx, seating is communal and—if you're not a regular who long ago memorized the bill of fare—you have to rely on the waiter to find out what was cookin'. Prices remain a mystery until the waiter announces how much you owe at the end of the meal. And you pay in cash; no cards accepted.

Things have changed a bit in the past year or so. There actually is a single menu now, with prices, displayed outside the restaurant. "We put it there last year," explained my waiter. "That way, people who don't know can study it and figure out what they want before they come in." Exactly what I did. Others, however, weren't so happy about the change. As a large group of thirtysomething men—obviously natives of the neighborhood returning for a visit—filed in, one spotted the menu. "Prices?!" he snorted in disbelief. "When did that happen?"

If you ignore the menu and sit down not knowing what you want, be prepared for the waiter to unroll his spiel. "You like pasta? We got got pasta with white clam sauce, with red clam sauce. We've got chicken scarpariello, chicken marsala, chicken francese. You want veal? Veal parmigiana, veal picatta, veal sorrentino, veal and potatoes." He'll keep going until to pick something. Often, uninitiated diners just give in and have the waiter decide. He usually chooses well.

I knew what I wanted: Linguini all Gianni (with diced shrimp and clams, one of the best pasta dishes in the city), and sides of sausage and broccoli rabe. All were delicious, and I couldn't finish any of it; portions are huge. The wine ("red"—no other specifications) came in a juice glass, and the espresso came in the same sort of glass. Neither were good, but I loved the way they were served.

Dominick's, which is run by Charlie DiPaolo, was founded on the location it now occupies about 50 years ago. Old photos show a sweet wood-marble-and-tile place that looks more like a cafe, and was called Caputo's. Stools, tea tables, big coffee urn. That place is gone. The relatively charmless interior of today is one of generic artwork and everyday decor. (Specifics on the joint's history are hard to find.)

The place is routinely packed, with both locals, and, more commonly, people who used to be locals and now make a point of eating there whenever they're back in the borough or back in the city. Celebrities often stop by on their way back from attending a Yankees game (Adam Sandler) or playing in one (A-Rod). Based on the faces of the non-famous diners, you'd think that Arthur Avenue was still a purely Italian-American community. That said, there is some diversity among the clientele, and all are made welcome. Even an obvious non-Bronxer like myself. "$39," said my waiter when I asked to settle up. I left the money on the table. "So, I guess we'll see you again, huh?" he said as I reached for the door. Yes, I guess you will. 

—Brooks of Sheffield

Egidio Pastry Is 100 Years Old; Awning Not So Much

Egidio Pastry, the excellent Bronx pasticceria, turns 100 year. You can read all about the Belmont-area store in this earlier post of mine. I recommend that everyone make their was up to 187th Street this holiday season to sample some of the bakery's goods. I also recommend that Egidio show itself some respect by taking down that god-awful plastic awning, which obscures the genuinely beautiful neon sign above it. C'mon, guys. Blue letters on pink? You're not Dylan's Candy Shop.

The Most Beautiful Bakery in The Bronx

I don't know which bakery in the Belmont area of The Bronx is the best. But I know which one is the most beautiful. Addeo Bakery.

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And Nobody Cares

One of the landmarks that had always made the Bronx's Little Italy of Arthur Avenue so special to me was an outdoor green grocer called Amalfi. It stood on 187th Street just west of Arthur Avenue. It was run by a very old man. His crates and boxes of vegetables and fruits spilled out into the street in a pell-mell fashion. The arrangement of goods was haphazard but the overall effect was artful. One couldn't help but smile when looking at the colorful business. It was a slice of pushcart-era New York that had refused to leaven.

Upon my most recent visit to Arthur Avenue, it had disappeared. I was heartbroken. But I was more disconcerted by the way it had disappeared without a trace. I walked into the store that had replaced it (another indy shop) and asked what had happened to Amalfi. The worker had never heard of it, didn't know anything. I went into the neighboring stores—nobody remembered it. How could such a special place disappear without a bit of mourning?

How to Get Your Phone Number Burned in Customers' Brains.

Do it in tile.

A Chinese take-out joint in Belmont, The Bronx.

Arthur Avenue Gives Good Awning

I always thought, of all the plastic awnings in the city, Catania's Pizza on Arthur Avenue in The Bronx may be the most impressive. The 61-year-old slice joint holds court on a sweeping curve where Arthur Avenue meets E. 184th Street, and its bright red awning hovers over every inch of that angle. It's quite obvious that Coca-Cola footed the bill for the massive thing. Best advertising they ever bought.

Fresh and Blessed at Borgotti's Ravioli

Borgotti's Ravioli and Egg Noodles (very specific name, that) is one of my regular stops whenever I get up to Arthur Avenue in The Bronx. The pasta is fresh—often it's made right as you order it—and the atmosphere is of another time; counters and shelves and equipment that haven't changed in decades.

The small store was crowed on a recent Thursday night just before closing. Pre-Christmas rush? Or just the usual logjam? The old lady under the sign listing the types of pasta and their prices (the Borgotti matriarch, I assume) was doing her thing, packing up bags of pasta for the customers.

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Ahead of the Curve

This curvy specimen from the Belmont section of the Bronx is an uncelebrated wonder, as far as I'm concerned. Look at the grace with which its castle-like form banks that corner, ridding the City of one of its harsh corners, and the lovely line the roof traces against the sky. It's altogether a pleasure. What developer today would go to the bother of creating anything so stylish that didn't take full advantage of the lot's footprint?

Happy Passover, From...Arthur Avenue?

I'm all for supporting tolerance and understanding and togetherness wherever I see it, but this airborne tiding, strung over ultra-Italian-Catholic Arthur Avenue had me doing a triple-take.

A Good Sign: Madonia Brothers

I love this sign. The unusual combination of yellow and blue neon in a world dominated by red; the fanciful shaft of wheat. It's utterly distinctive and a pleasure to look at. Madonia Brothers bakery is on Arthur Avenue in the Bronx. Their pane di casa is worth the trek. Wonderfully simple and fantastically delicious table bread.

A Good Look for a Bakery

Often when I'm in the Arthur Avenue neighborhood of the Bronx, I unexpectedly cross the sun-baked intersection of Hughes Avenue and 186th—which, though near the main drags of 187th and Arthur Avenue, is actually kind of off the beaten track and nearly free of traffic. I'm then confronted by Addeo & Songs Italian Bakery, which stands quite along on its corner, unencumbered by other businesses.

The sight always brings a smile to my face. This, I think, is what a bakery should look like. Addeo is so perfect in its simplicity and old world charm, that one might think it was built from scratch by a movie crew to represent a classic New York neighborhood bakery. It's not flashy. There's nothing about it, inside or out, that doesn't serve a purpose: no slick awning, no neon (bakeries are day businesses), no corny framed photos of idealized bread on the walls inside, no products for sale that are not freshly made baked goods.

The only bit of ballyhoo about the place is a sign hanging in the window advertising "Addeo's Original Pane di Casa." It's an Edward Hopper bakery. The shelves in the window are for displaying bread; they fill with loaves in the morning, they are empty at closing time. The place sells bread. Not iced coffee.

These days, mercantile purity is a rare and beautiful thing.

Family Business, Family Strife

Studying New York history over the years, I've come to realize that wherever you find an old family business, you usually find an old family feud just behind it. The sisters who run the Montero bar and Long Island Restaurant near each other on Atlantic Avenue have bickered for years. The brothers who own Manganaro's Hero Boy and Manganaro's Grosseria Italiano, side by side on Ninth Avenue, didn't speak for decades. The Balducci family has feuded plenty. The owners of Patsy's pizzeria and Grimaldi's pizzeria, who came from Patsy's, fought over name rights for a while. It goes on and on and on.

I discovered another long-simmering battleground off Arthur Avenue in the Bronx this past weekend. The setting is Egidio's Pastry Shop on 187th Street, a place that has been there since 1912, founded by one Pasquale Egidio. The long tortured tale of its existence was written up in the New York Times a few years back, and though that tale is none too flattering of any of the participants, the article is framed and hanging in the bakery. It tells of heartbreaking marriages, a suffocating father, and an accusation of an altered will, leaving the pastry shop to a son rather than a devoted daughter who expected it.

Even the tale of the family that bought the place from the founding family is a soap opera. Paolo Palombo wanted to use the bakery as a springboard to enter local politics. He succeeded, but found a mistress along the way, and his wife, the former Carmela Lucciola, took out her vengeance by snatching the shop away from him. Paolo was later convicted of taking a bribe. He lost his political perch and now owns a string of bakeries throughout Brooklyn.

The Times piece says Paolo is sad that none of his stores is near Arthur Avenue. That appears to have changed. Just a block away from Egidio's is a shiny new cafe called Palombo, right on the corner of Arthur and 187th. It opened seven months ago. Paolo has returned, and just a stone's throw from his ex-wife. The saga continues.

Try the espresso (very dark), the cannoli and the banana eclairs. Much of the interior charm disappeared with a recent remodeling (even the tin ceiling is new). But the old sign hanging outside rocks.

A Good Sign: Roma Luncheonette

The Roma Luncheonette sits on a corner of 187th Street in the Arthur Avenue Little Italy section of the Bronx. I've always loved the simplicity of the sign. Even the use of the 7 UP logo is charming in a way, a reminder of long-gone days when the soft drink campaigned hard as an independent label and an alternative to the dominating colas. The diner itself is a small place, with a few tables and a tiny, four-stool counter where red wine and espresso is drunk as much as anything else. Very local.