A couple of Fridays ago, I headed to La Parmigiana for
dinner, like I do on countless Friday evenings. While
my back was turned, they went through a complete make
over, including the name. Now they are known as Marco
Polo's Ristorante. Why change the name of such a well
Inside, it feels like bizarro world. On the surface
things look familiar, but underneath it isn't the same.
New members of the staff are far more asssertive. The
seating has become more formal, making it a less easy
place to bring young children or large groups. The new
menu de-emphasizes the pizzas and calzones for which
they were famous. In the process they have become
considerably less vegetarian friendly.
Olives are always the first thing to go. Instead of
the delightful, wrinkled, oil cured olives, the
Insalata del Cuoco came with smooth, pitted olives from
a can. As I childishly flicked the olives from my
plate onto my place mat, all I could do was hum the
refrain from the REM song, "It's the end of the world
as we know it".
Steven in Red Hook, needing a new haunt