When I moved to Brooklyn, nearby Carroll Gardens was still rough and tumble. I used to tiptoe over for an Italian sandwich once in a while. I sported a sidewalk gaze and acted humble, hoping to pop in and out without any static. The sandwiches were worth the risk but their equivalents in Italy might tempt you to greater feats of daring. Whole other level of tasty! At Panini Durini I chomped down on a memory-rending combo of pancetta tesa, caciotta dolce and peperoncini, aka black-peppered pork belly, sweet cheese and peppers.
For some reason, this stuff just tastes better in Italy. My simple theory - the pigs are happier over here. That doesn't explain why my carrot cake was so good, though. I may have to go back to the blackboard. The carrot cake was totally unlike any I've had. Flaky, crumbly, yet moist at the same time.
I was happy about the Chinotto (pronounced key-no-toe), a drink that some consider an acquired taste. It's made from an unloved citrus fruit for connoisseurs like the kid.
I hit this spot a few times, once for a slept-in-late breakfast of coffee and biscotti.
Eat your heart out Dodo!