When I lived in a Baltimore I had a
friend who was living there for schooling. He was from Phoenix AZ where his dad moved the family shortly after his birth. His dad would work several months in NYC where he was born applying his skilled trade. Then back to AZ for a few months off work.
My friend invited me to his graduation and dinner afterwards. His dad, a full fledged unapologetic NY Italian came down from his current stint in the big town. I was cautioned that his father was very leery of all strangers. I strongly suggested that my friend abandon the steakhouse plans and dine in Baltimore’s Little Italy where, at the time, the rich culture was still thriving.
Once we sat down in the finest choice restaurant that I could think of and the very skilled waitress took over with an appetizer platter specialty suggestion my friend Rich’s father and I were instant friends. Rich said he’d never seen his dad ever take so well to a stranger.
I think I’ve eaten at 2 other restaurants in anywhere near the same class. All were dining opportunities that are increasingly rare where I felt to be somewhere else in time and somehow bonded to a deep experience far beyond food.
I’d bet my life the Long Island Shave Crew could deliver much the same.
I do love Stauffers Lasagna, but it ain’t Italian. Isn’t Stauffers a PA Dutch name?

Click to expand...