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With a name like Nonna, a
restaurant sets up certain expectations, and even before you walk in
the door, you might envision your grandmother’s kitchen.
Fortunately, Nonna delivers in ways that your grandmother did – if
you were lucky, that is – providing comfort, with a bit of
gruffness, while satisfying you with food that makes you happy you
stopped by. Furnished in a mishmash of styles, with artifacts
hanging willy-nilly, the room evokes the home of a Tuscan woman
who’s kept every object given her by every grandchild. Napkins are
blue-and-white striped dishtowels while wine is poured into stemless
juice glasses. With bare wood tables and a hard-backed banquette,
it’s clear that Nonna wants you to sit up straight and behave – and
if you do so, then food is your reward – and very good food at
that. Arancini, for example, lightly-fried and oozing with
mozzarella, with a light tomato sauce for dipping, and fried
zucchini chips, as thinly-sliced as Paul Sorvino’s slices of garlic
in the film GoodFellas,
and sides of polenta with mascarpone and broccoli rabe with sauteed
garlic and string beans puttanesca, all fresh and bursting with
flavor. With food this good, it’s not really a surprise when Paul
Sorvino walks in and takes an entire table for himself. One minor
caveat: some of Nonna’s waitstaff might sometimes be mistaken for
pod people. Don’t let their zombieish attitude compromise all
that’s good on your plate. Because there’s food to be eaten at
Nonna’s and as every made guy knows, it’s always good to see your
grandmother.
Best always,
Mark and Robert
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