Restaurant -- Zero Otto Nove

When I heard we were going to dinner in Little Italy, my first thought was, wow, I haven't been there since I was in high school, when my debate coach—who was awesome about ensuring that a bunch of Floridians (South at least, but still) got some culture—made sure we had cannoli and walked around the historic streets.  My second thought was, hmm, does Little Italy still even exist? Maybe it amounts to two-and-a-half blocks?

Then I learned we were in fact headed to Little Italy in Da Bronx, which is a whole 'nother, and apparently thriving, animal I had never been acquainted with (though I did go to the Fordham college debate tournament multiple times; if only we'd had a life coach on retainer).

Zero Otto Nove is the sort of place that seems like it might be too "authentic" for its own good—the main dining area is a huge high-ceilinged room with stone arches and painted walls that seems like it was taken out of an Italian version of The Cloisters. I've never been to Italy, but it definitely screams "Old World Experience."

Fortunately, we had a coach of sorts to guide our experience, J's friend's friend, who professed to being an authentic Long Island Italian who has been coming to this place with his family since he was a kid. He said to get the pizza, so we got a pizza. We also got the branzino to balance things out.

I quite liked the pizza. It's Neapolitan but with a more robust crust than is often the case. You can see the massive imported Italian oven near the center of the dining hall. The charred flavor was more pronounced than in a lot of others I've had. J said the cheese was on the heavier side, and I can see why one would get that impression, because the dollops were large and concentrated as opposed to smaller and more spread out. But I feel like the thickness/heaviness of the dough balanced things out. 

We opted for the Diavola but though I enjoyed it, it wasn't the right call. I failed to abide by a lesson I seem to be repeatedly relearning, which is always get the Margherita if it's your first time. For one, it's the best way to get a sense of what a place's basic deal is, without the confounding factor of, say, doing something weird with the soppressata (which in this case was sort of thickly julienned, for lack of a better term, as opposed to the usual pepperoni style). Two, the marg is often just better; it's classic for a reason. When the pie is good, toppings are overrated.

Crap, time's up. The branzino was aite; J's was better.