You’ve heard the hype: A $50 four-course price fixe; a dining experience like no other. Maybe you’ve even seen the line that snakes down Mulberry Street, sometimes hooking a right around the corner onto Prince. Passerby routinely stop to inquire. Three words: Torrisi Italian Specialties.
The storefront Italian restaurant courtesy of partners Mario Carbone and Rich Torrisi (culinary offspring of heavy hitters like Daniel Boulud and Mario Batali) has been a bonafide hit since opening earlier this year. By day, Torrisi is a sandwich shop that serves killer chicken and eggplant parms. Six nights a week the joint turns into a dimly-lit, 24-seat Sunday-style dinner experience with three seatings—6, 8, and 10 PM—for which that curious line forms at approximately 5 PM every day. Correct, no reservations whatsoever. And while you probably don’t need another review of the place, I couldn’t help myself. Three more words: Worth the wait.
Truly.
After snagging a 6 PM reservation (Note: I joined the line at 5:09 PM), the lace-curtained door swung out and allowed me entry into the jewel-box space. White subway tiles back the daytime sandwich counter. Nine tables and two barstools wait within. Shelves lined Sleeping With the Enemy style with Italian staples—Progresso bread crumbs, olive oil, Stella Doro cookies, Polly-O ricotta cheese containers, raviolis, cured meats draped from the ceiling, bags of Bazzini pistachio nuts—enhance the Grandma’s kitchen feel. Look up for a glimpse of the night’s offerings on the chalkboard menu. On Friday, October 12th, the board read:
Antipasti
Warm Mozz, DaVero, Milk Thistle Cream
Three Bean Salad, Fermented Parsley
Smoked Mackerel, Potato Salad
Italian Sausage Pate, Peppers
Pasta
German Butterball Gnocchi, Pastrami Ragu
Main
Skate Giardiniera
or
Devil's Chicken, Evan's Yogurt
Sweet
House Pastry
Like any true Italian restaurant, the meal begins with antipasti. At Torrisi, there are four small plates to whet the palate, served on delicate, often mismatched china that could easily have been lifted from any of my relatives’ dining room cabinets. Though none disappointed, my favorite was the small garlic bread squares, perfectly crisped and sprinkled with tomato and oregano, accompanied by a pillow of warm mozzarella laced with olive oil. The combination, so simple, yet sublime is something I will dream about in days to come. Next came a house-made Italian sausage terrine with a red and green pepper spread accompanied by grilled Parisi Bakery bread from just across Houston Street. Chinese long beans felt almost out of place on the menu, but tossed with crispy fried bean curd, and “yellow Indian woman beans” from California (that reminded me of baby kidney beans), they created a veggie starter that soared. Last, a lightly smoked mackerel, with baby potatoes, crisp potatoes, and pickled watercress. Each unique, with incredibly different textures and flavors, there wasn’t a miss in the bunch.
Pasta came next, and in this case, it was molten potato gnocchi so soft and silky that once it hit my tongue, it disintegrated into a sheer burst of flavor. Nothing heavy about this gnocchi served on a bed of, of all things, Gulden's mustard and topped with a pastrami ragu. Not my usual pasta go-to but if you’re a pastrami fan, don’t skip this one.
The only choose-your-own-adventure at Torrisi is on entrée. We ordered one of each – a lightly breaded skate with pickled cauliflower and carrots in a mustard sauce, and the highly praised Devil’s Chicken. Lucky we ordered one of each; my dining partner preferred the flaky skate to the fiery chicken thigh and breast heightened by habañero sauce, and tempered by yogurt. Forget pastrami ragu, I’m going back for the chicken.
Tart lemon Italian ice (what else, right?) comes as a palate cleanser before dessert. Then, a plate of miniature Italian goodies like rainbow cookies, butternut squash ginger snaps, cannolis in waffle cone sleeves, chewy pistachio-almond sandwiches, and peppermint truffles best saved until last. $50. Complete and total bliss.
7:59 PM, the bill lands. The lace-curtained door once again opens. It’s time for the 8 PM seating. This time I have only two words: Lucky bastards.
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