Mulberry Street, Little Italy, NYC
Review by Diana
On weekends, Mulberry Street becomes an open mall. Cars are not quite forbidden, but they drive cautiously and slowly. The sidewalks overflow with tables and chairs as restaurants try to tempt passersby with the virtues of al fresco dining. As wondrous as the menus sounded, and as comfy as the upholstered chairs and white-cloth covered tables set with real silverware looked, we'd just eaten at HSF in nearby Chinatown and were stuffed. And it was frickin' hot and humid in NYC. The latitude and oceanic situation of NYC is purported to make the climate similar to that of Naples, Italy. But that day, it seemed a lot closer to Hades than to Napoli!
So we were drawn to the cave-like, long, narrow passage into Ferrara's. It's actually two shops, the right side is a bakery and confectionary. The left is a little café with clean bathrooms and an old refrigerated pastry case with condensation formed on the glass, so humid was the air.
But as you kept walking past the pastry case down the narrow shop, the air conditioning kicked in, and the light from outside became less of a factor. We stopped squinting and started breathing more easily. We sat down and rested our heads on the cool, black and red granite table tops, imported from Italy. We murmurred our orders to the friendly girl who greeted us, and we sighed.
We got bottles of Limonata, a lightly carbonated lemon drink, and glasses of iced espresso. We decided we needed electrolyte replacement and ordered Tiramisu (served on an ice-cold plate) and Orange Granita (served in a frozen, hollowed out orange). We sipped and nibbled, ordered some more drinks, placed our heads on the cold marble from time to time. It was sublime.
At the church service we attended the next day, the priest intoned, "Come ye all who are weary and heavy-laden, for I will refresh you." He must've been talking about Ferrara's.
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