Pietrasanta, reviewed

There are hundreds of Italian restaurants in New York.  There are dozens of restaurants in Hell’s Kitchen, especially along Ninth Avenue (aka “Restaurant Row”).  So what should set apart Pietrasanta from other Theater District red-sauce joints?

Namely, the quality of service and food; the atmosphere and good company certainly helped as well.  I went with my aunt, uncle, and cousins (two hilarious girls aged 5 and 7) during their recent visit to the Big City, and the evening turned out surprisingly well.  Arriving after work, a maître d’ at the door showed me into a warm, ebullient room—with a bar in the back, windows on to Ninth Ave, and shelves of wine bottles along the walls.  My family had already cracked open a bottle of red plucked from the shelf behind them, and polished off an amazing plate of calamari (or so I’m told.)  I appetized myself on roasted red pepper hummus and good bread, before ordering the first dish that struck me upon opening the menu: the black fettuccine. 

Soon, a huge bowl arrived with thick, al dente pasta dyed black from squid ink—topped by artichokes, smoked salmon, and shiitake mushrooms.  Although I’m not sure how long salmon and shiitake mushrooms have been included in Italian cuisine, the pasta was pretty fantastic.  While the textures did not exactly blend well together, the flavors certainly did in the light garlic cream sauce.  My uncle enjoyed his so much that his plate was nearly clean when I had over a third of my pasta left. 

Yes, the food was good, but the service was particularly pleasant—attentive to our drinks, our timing (we informed them that we were not trying to catch an 8 o’clock show, thus the meal unfolded leisurely—as it should), and the little girls opposite me.  The kitchen accommodated them nicely, presenting two plates of buttered penne, with a basil leaf (or “salad”) on each, and even a scoop of plain vanilla ice cream for the youngest. 

Ah, dessert.  It’s hard to imagine we found room for tiramisu, cheesecake, or what looked like the best of the desserts on our table—the chocolate mousse.  Apparently the chocolate soufflé was the piece de resistance, but even our collective gut was not ready for that.  I will continue to try places along Restaurant Row, but I now I know there is quality Italian (and a soufflé to try) at 47^th Street for the next time I’m in Midtown with company.