Immaculate Infatuation

If there’s one cuisine whose hype is usually warranted, it’s pizza. Because of its universal nature, critics and “the people” will generally see eye to eye. At the end of the day most pizza is either fantastic or good enough and it doesn’t take a food expert to distinguish between the two. With these facts in mind, the Infatuation was fired up to investigate New York Mag’s declaration of Kesté as NYC’s best pie of the moment.

As anticipated, Kesté serves up some of the best pizza in town. We went during prime time and waited about half an hour for our table – the perfect amount of time to whet our appetites with a couple craft pints from the Blind Tiger down the block. Kesté doesn’t serve by the slice (unless you’re lucky and they hook you up with a taster slice for waiting), and while the pies are sized for one person to eat, you should come hungry and with friends. On our last visit, we each ordered our own pie and no slice was left uneaten. Kesté’s decor could use a little spruce up; the exposed brick almost looks fake, and the random artwork doesn’t add much to the vibe. They jam as many tables as possible into the small space and it’s hot as balls thanks to the open oven in the back. You know what though? I’m fine with Kesté concentrating their efforts on the food, and it pays off. I’d rather eat like a king at a dive than consume crap in a palace. Not that this place is a dive by any means, but you get my point.

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Frank Prisinazo (Frank, Lil’ Frankies) pretty much has a monopoly over the Italian game in the East Village. Supper, his slightly more upscale Italian institution, has been mobbed since the day it opened. They don’t take reservations, but they do have a nice wine bar next door to hang at while you wait. For a cash only operation (both the restaurant and wine bar), the wine list is steep. It’s surprising that there aren’t more two- digit options. The food menu however, is packed with well executed, moderately priced Italian favorites in addition to the always changing specials (the reason we keep coming back). The seats outside on the sidewalk are nice, but we prefer this dimly lit spaghetti haunt on a freezing cold night the when oven in the middle of the room is keeping everyone warm.

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The best pizza grows in Brooklyn. We know this. Perfecting your dough craft outer-borough style before bringing those pie skills to the big time seems to be a theme these days, so it comes as no surprise that with a brand already established in Williamsburg, Mathieu Palombino’s Motorino (which the NY Times awarded “best new generation pizza”) recently opened up their first Manhattan annex in the East Village. Their small pizzeria is in the old Una Pizza Napoletana space on 12th street’s mini restaurant row. Having an award winning oven already in place, Motorino has hit the ground running. The masses will now get a taste of Motorino’s unbeatable margherita and signature soppressata pies.

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It’s tough to write a review for Frankies 17 that’s significantly different than the Frankies 457 edition – the two restaurants are almost identical. They are both great though, and both deserve a nod from The Infatuation. But while the two restaurants are all but clones, you’ll notice that #17 get’s an ever so slightly higher rating. Here’s why: they take credit cards, it’s (somewhat) less crowded, and you have more options to kill time or find a backup plan if you get stuck with a marathon wait. Add it up, carry the zero, and what do you get? A tenth of a point, and a First/Early in the Game Dates tag that Frankies 457 doesn’t have. After all, how are you going to impress if you can’t show off that new Discover Card Sliver?

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The Smile is a relatively new “cafe and mixed use concept store” on Bond St. What does that mean? Well, it’s a rustic space that serves food and also sells housewares and nick-nacks to the coolest people you have ever seen. Essentially, it’s hipster Cracker Barrel.

Though The Smile has been open for close to a year now, we’re betting you haven’t heard much about it. Situated a few steps below the sidewalk, it’s a place that you have to be looking for to see, and other than the models and musicians that fill it for brunch, it remains relatively under the radar. Yes, brunch is popular, but it’s not yet overrun by the hoardes in this city that treat the meal like a sport. People eat and linger, everyone seems to know each other, and everyone looks really good – even with dirty hair and last night’s clothes on. Dinner service began only a few weeks ago, and like the breakfast and brunch menu, the food is surprisingly good. Imagine Freemans without the two hour wait. Things here feel laid back and matter-of-fact, as if those running the place have no interest in the hustle that can come along with making a New York City restaurant successful. Maybe they are simply confident that word will spread and people will come. Or maybe they just don’t want them to.

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