At La Pecora Bianca, Even the Pasta Has Emotional Regulation

At La Pecora Bianca, the crowd tells you everything before the food even hits the table. An elderly couple camped out like they’ve been coming here since Bloomberg, a mom workshopping her six-year-old’s social skills over pasta, and a surprising fleet of strollers parked like it’s brunch daycare. The whipped ricotta with honey and truffle is the move. Sweet, aromatic, and generous, but served with a country sourdough toast so aggressively hard it turns every bite into a public event and leaves you with a few less teeth. The cauliflower delivers, holding its roasted integrity with raisins, pine nuts, and an aioli that makes you feel like you’re making a responsible choice. The rigatoni alla vodka comes through the way it should, firm, chewy, not sadly flaccid, and with a sauce that knows better than to drown itself. Even the Hugo spritz feels considered, not too strong or too light, which is the theme here. Everything is balanced, even the portions, and you leave feeling like your money was well spent. The tiramisu, sheep-stamped, naturally, is barely sweet, so if you are looking for decadence, look elsewhere.

Truly some of the best portions in the city. Shame about the violently stale bread.

For an Upper West Side Italian restaurant, the staff is surprisingly soft spoken, friendly, and treats everyone with a level of respect that feels almost disarming. The space is open, bright, and, apparently, family friendly during the day, making it a popular brunch and lunch spot in NYC. If you do not have a lunatic middle-aged woman next to you like I did, loudly unpacking the pope and abortion for an hour, you will have a lovely time. No notes.

Hungry for more Bite Me content? We clocked this pizza place long before it got its Michelin star!