Baxter Street means a lot to me. It’s where my great-grandparents got married at the Most Precious Blood Church. It’s around the corner where their families started their American tale at the turn of the 20th Century, after immigrating from Southern Italy. Little Italy has dwindled down to no more than a few blocks, with neighboring Chinatown growing in its place. Walking around this area is more about a reflection on memory lane vs. thinking about eating or nightlife.
That all changed a few years ago when we were getting a taxi downtown, and a misunderstanding with the driver led us to Baxter Street, right in front of Forlini’s. Having been familiar with the [sadly disappointing] Little Italy dining “scene”, I was shocked to discover this 1940’s establishment, standing alone on the other side of Canal Street.
“Has this place appeared overnight? Is this a figment of my imagination?” Forlini’s is the Italian-American time capsule I had been searching for in Manhattan for quite some time. At that point I had been more familiar, and comfortable with the Brooklyn “red sauce” spots – as they deliver both Mid-Century ambiance and delicious food. Having that combination under my nose in Manhattan seemed surreal. Most downtown spots are no more than a page in a tourist’s guide with high prices and average food – from Monte’s to John’s of 12th Street to Gene’s.
Since that fateful night Forlini’s (along with Sevilla) have been my old-world go to spots. Nestling into a salmon pink booth, under endless walls of portraits in heavy baroque frames, I go there to enjoy special evenings. I take both local and out of towner friends who want to experience a morsel of old New York. I take my parents to enjoy eating the classics and maybe watch Angelo Ruggiero in the back room, singing the classics.
I was amazed, but not totally surprised, with the post NY Fashion Week-NYTimes write up talking about Forlini’s being a hit with (how I DESPISE this word) “influencers” and Insta-crowds. How am I not surprised though? Of course the fashion crowd seek out these places – from China Chalet to 88 Palace, every so often they unearth a deep, dark downtown gem and briefly make it their own, falling prey to some neon lighting, seafoam colored booths and wood paneling. I mean, Forlini’s is a photogenic delight, how could they not have found this place to take their choreographed photos.
While the food isn’t comparable to my die hard favorites, the garden of eden, L&B Spumoni Gardens or Joe’s of Avenue U, it is still solid “red sauce” at a perfect price point. The connected bar is also a great stop, a mainstay for the court folk (the antithesis of cool kids, or maybe so ironic they ARE cool)!
The food isn’t what brings me back to Forlini’s, it’s soaking in the environment, because it is a special place. Ridiculing the Insta people and their flash-in-the-pan hashtagging aside, I won’t say I am beyond being dazzled by an avocado, salmon or mustard colored interior of our past. I just hope that these Insta people become actual patrons of Forlini’s, bringing a steady flow of business, enabling it to remain one of Lower Manhattan’s last bastions of Italian American authenticity.
Eat Up: Mozzarella & Carozza, Clams Casino, Fried Calamari, homemade chicken-stuffed Anolini and pasta dishes are the way to roll. Order up when it comes to the wine, and start off with a classic cocktail.
elbows on the table 