Mangia Bene

I’m kinda confused.

Recently I’ve heard from several of you that all I’m doing in New York is eating.

I have absolutely NO idea where that comes from.

Well, maybe it was the blog about the street meat...

...or the all-you-can eat ribs...

...or the pretzels...

...or the hot dogs...

...or the pizza.

OH, THE PIZZA!!!!

Ok, I get it, but have you been here?

I don’t think it is humanly possible to make it three or four blocks in Manhattan without having the urge to eat something.

I know that I can’t do it.

But the good news is between all of the walking and the late night rides on the stationary bike, I have somehow avoided becoming the 800 pound gorilla.

At least I have avoided it so far.

Saturday night I returned home around Midnight and immediately changed clothes and rode 14 miles on the bike.

And there’s a good reason for that.

I had just returned from the 84th Annual Feast of San Gennaro in Little Italy.

I had been tipped off by a friend that it was going on and far be it from me to avoid a food festival.

Any food festival.

Especially one in Little Italy.

The 6 train dropped me off a block away from the extravaganza and like Toucan Sam, all I had to do was follow my nose.

When I got to Mulberry Street, the place was exploding with food vendors and thousands of hungry people.

It was a marriage made in, Little Italy.

I walked the street for at least 45 minutes in search of the perfect Sausage and Peppers.

Along the way, I stopped at Cafe Palermo, where I tried “the best cannoli on planet earth.”

Best on earth?   Not sure.   

Best on Mulberry Street?  Perhaps.

I also enjoyed an Italian Ice -- like always, one scoop chocolate, one scoop watermelon.

Then, finally, I landed at Big Vin’s.

It was time for the $8 Italian Sausage and Peppers.

I’m not sure that Big Vin was any different than the dozens of other options, but I just couldn’t take it anymore.

And what a choice it was.

THE best Italian bread I’ve ever had.   

An excellent Hot Italian Sausage with a great mix of onions and peppers.

I spent the next two hours walking around, trying to burn off at least one calorie.

Every step of the way, I couldn’t help but think how much fun this would’ve been with my wife and kids.

Fortunately, I was able to make some friends along the way.

Like Thomas, the maitre d’ at one of the sit-down restaurants along the festival route.

Thomas was from Florence.

As in Florence, Italy.

He stopped me as I walked by and told me I looked Italian.

I told him my mother’s family is from a place called Campobasso, just south of Rome.

So he started speaking to me in Italian.

Uh, bad move.

We spoke for a few minutes... in English.

Thomas told me he came to the states, like many of the residents of Little Italy, “to enjoy life and make money.”

Cool story.

Of course, it would’ve been a better story if his name was Giancarlo or Salvatore or Vincenzo instead of Thomas.

But at least his accent sounded authentic.

I think.

The most incredible part of the night for me was this huge mass of people walking through this tiny street and I saw exactly zero problems.

Everybody seemed to be in a good mood.

Sure there were some voices raised at times, but it was usually a husband and wife deciding between the Sausage and the Pizza and the Braciole.

After all, this is Little Italy.

But pushing or shoving or bumping or fighting or arguing.

I saw nothing.

Not one situation.

Well a lot of people who looked like The Situation or even Snooki, but problems, I saw none.

In fact, at one point I even stopped one of the many NYPD on hand and asked if the festival was always this well behaved.

As a journalist, that’s my job, that’s what I do.

Plus, now I can write off the $8 sausage.

The NYPD Captain told me that the crowd has become easier to deal with in the last few years.

I commended him and his crew and said that in my old hometown it would’ve been way out of control.

“Your old hometown doesn’t have the NYPD,” he said with a straight face.

Nice.

According to sangennaro.org, the Feast of Sen Gennaro is New York City’s longest running and biggest outdoor festival.

There are more than 300 street vendors in addition to 35 of the restaurants that call Little Italy home.

For someone who loves food as much as I do, especially Italian food, it was pretty close to a perfect night.

Well almost perfect.

Between the Sausage and Clams and Zeppole, they had all of the food groups covered.

But when did Fried Oreos become an Italian food?

No thanks.

That must’ve been for the tourists.