Otto

Tonight we were in the mood for something reliably good for dinner, so we headed down by Washington Square Park to eat at Otto. At this point I can say from experience that the experience there on a Sunday evening is much different from a Friday or Saturday night. The beginning and middle of the weekend at Otto seem dominated by a younger crowd eager to see others and be seen, but certainly not to converse with each other since the ultra-loud audio system would seem to ensure that the only way to communicate with hand signals. Not that people don't try to yell over the music, though, which adds another layer of noise to foundation of eclectic popular, alternative, and electronic music selections.

On Sunday evening, though, the music is toned down and coincidentally or not a completely different clientele shows up. It wouldn't be hard to convince me that someone is coordinating a flash mob of strollers to storm in every Sunday at 6 PM, despite the fact that they can only get in by accomplish a miracle of volumetric geometry by threading them through the revolving door that serves as the single customer entrance. Lucky for us our son is well past the stroller stage and can slip through the door under his own power.

For tonight's dinner we repeated a standard formula involving a selection of antipasti including meat, cheese, and vegetables. This time we go for the daily special bresaola, a trio of cheeses including pecorino peppercorn goat and gorgonzola, brussel sprouts, and alfonso olives.

The wide variety of antipasti combined with the fact that every time we have visited they are all executed very well is probably the number one reason we enjoy this place so much. Every one we have tried has proven excellent, without any hint that the range of choices is being constrained by a scarce allocation of attention to detail and quality. The best choice tonight was the brussels sprouts, which had a really good roasted flavor without any hint of the unpleasant taste that can arrive from ovvercooking.

The only negative comment I can make about the experience of eating here is that the food runners typically deliver the food in a gruff, almost grudging manner. Certainly it's understandable that they are in a hurry, and if it were the army of kids running free from the strollers I could sympathize as well, but since this seems to be the case all through the weekend I don't think it's just the strollers.

In any case, tonight's entrees included pizza with roasted cauliflower and spaghetti carbonara, and our son enjoyed the kid's plain cheese pizza. Currently Otto holds second place (behind Crispo) in my own personal ranking of Manhattan carbonara dishes, which I have a specific sentimental fondness for.