Continuing our carb-themed spring, we recently sampled the goods at charming Frankies 17, the Manhattan outpost of the beloved Brooklyn spuntino, specializing in cured meats and pastas. It's hard to believe (and sort of depressing) that such food comes out of a kitchen that's roughly the size of the one in our apartment.
We had brunch, which we generally avoid both steadfastly and categorically. Some people might say that this dislike precludes us from being true New Yorkers, given the city's propensity for weekend menus featuring all-you-can-drink mimosas and overpriced eggs. To this we say, why is a regular menu and free will on the beverage front so much to ask on days beginning with "s"?
The dense vegetable frittata, side of garlickly, olive-oily string beans, and cavatelli with spicy sausage forced us to reconsider our stance.
Good, really good stuff, and not a mimosa in sight. Whether this brunch is a harbinger of permanent change or simply a result of the starchy sugars coursing through our blood remains to be seen, however.