My mother’s! They’re just timelessly delicious, made with old-world dedication and a hint of parmesan.
But the second best meatballs in town are at Bar Stuzzichini (928 Broadway), and believe me, I’ve tried every single one in town!
You know I never do restaurant recommendations, so this place has to be pretty special to get me out of my curry hovels and three-salads-for-$7.99 joints near Bloomingdale’s. There’s just something so, I don’t know, zingy and yummy and adorable about the meatballs at Stuzzichini (a name that comes from the Italian for “to pick,” by the way. And you do pick–a lot!). You just want to take them home and adopt them, but you’re too busy wolfing them down like a porco.
And all the other stuff excelled too, like the fried artichokes and some zesty smoked cheese thing I had. End of food criticism. Back to my meatballs. Oink oink.