At the spur of the moment last night I had dinner with JG at A Tavola, the italian restaurant in her neighborhood that has been touted as the best gnocchi in the city. The gnocchi are pretty good — a little marshmallowy in texture for my taste, but in a fabulous sauce of brown butter and lots of big crispy-fried sage leaves. We also had tagliatelle in a lamb ragu (yummy), a braised pork shank over white beans (yummy and huge), and braised beef short ribs over risotto (super-extra yummy).
However, this delicious straightforward-italian meal was eaten in a quiet little restaurant infested with at least 3 couples obviously having affairs. All the men were 50ish, all the women were skinny and 20ish, and ALL OF THEM were canoodling outrageously. Fingers were being sucked, two of them were actually making out at a corner table, and there was general fondling all around. JG saw one of the guys looking bored and yawning as his girl talked enthusiastically about something, then perked right back up again when the finger-licking resumed. EEEEW.
We just eyeballed them and laughed, in between admiring discussion of our short ribs. It was like fine dining in a deeply creepy junior high dance. It’s really the perfect restaurant for the setup: quiet and romantic, but in a young hipster neighborhood where those aging dudes can be utterly assured that they won’t see anyone they know on a Tuesday night.