Walk into any Italian-American restaurant across the United States and, along with pasta on the menu and reds on the wine list, you’ll likely find a photo of Old Blue Eyes himself. Yes, I’m referring to The Chairman. The Leader of the Rat Pack. The Voice.
His name is Frank Sinatra. Maybe you’ve heard of him and his stature as one of the most successful and influential entertainers of all time?
But at many fine red sauce eateries, while the food may be amazing and the vibes immaculate, there’s only one place that can lay a claim to being Frank’s very favorite restaurant.
Located deep in the steaming entrails of Midtown Manhattan on 57th Street, Patsy’s Italian Restaurant has been serving up crisp Milanese and bubbling lasagna since 1944. That timeline puts it squarely in the bullseye of when Sinatra was wooing frantic bobby-soxers as the first teen idol, not too far away at the stately Paramount Theater.
In fact, it was Tommy Dorsey, the bandleader Sinatra first sang for and later eclipsed, who introduced Sinatra to Patsy’s. Yes, this is a legendary tale that starts at the very beginning of Sinatra’s rise.
On a recent occasion marking what would have been the 110th anniversary of Sinatra’s birth just across the river in Hoboken, it was here in New York, at Patsy’s, where the masses gathered to toast the man himself.
On this afternoon, relatives, friends, and fans gathered for a luncheon to reflect on his towering stature and, of course, to eat some quality old-school Italian food.
Remarkably, it’s still owned by the same family, and today the third generation, Sal Scognamillo and his wife Lisa, still run the joint like it’s their own home.
Of course, you can’t host a party in honor of Sinatra without some entertainment. Steven Maglio provided that here, the New York-based singer who stressed that he wasn’t a Sinatra impersonator but merely a man in awe of Frank, clearly most content paying tribute to him.
“I’m happy to be in a room with my people,” said Adriana Trigiani, New York Times bestselling author and the afternoon’s master of ceremonies, bantering between Maglio’s Sinatra covers and plentiful plates of pasta. Trigiani, a friend of Appetito’s whose recent book is The View from Lake Como, said, “In this weary world, I feel very reassured to be here.”
The guest stars were plentiful, including David Lawrence, the son of Steve Lawrence and Eydie Gormé, the iconic singing duo better known by their first names. Lawrence came to pay tribute to a man his swingin’ parents knew so well.
Representing the Sinatra family was The Voice’s granddaughter herself, AJ Lambert, the daughter of Nancy.
“When I was a kid, I grew up in LA, but we’d still come to Patsy’s in New York because it was obviously a very special place for my family,” she recalled, enlisting help from her own daughter Miranda, Sinatra’s great-granddaughter, to share stories of how their grandfather used to sneak in through a secret entrance.
“I was very young, but we’d eat upstairs,” said AJ. “Very little has changed in this room since those days.”
Of course, since we were at Patsy’s, the food happily shared the spotlight with the stories. First came a fresh, cold, and colorful salad, tossed delicately with vinegar and oil, perfect for dipping the crisp Italian bread guests tore chunks off of with their hands.
A pasta course followed: classic marinara and penne, tossed with Patsy’s own homemade sauce, which they currently sell by the jar. Entrées included a plate of both chicken and veal Milanese served with a potato croquette, their signature, as well as an eggplant parmesan, where the succulent eggplant was dipped in flour and fried to a crisp, layered with bubbly mozzarella and their aforementioned red sauce.
“We do this all to express love: through food, through music, and we try to make people happy,” said Sal, donning his chef whites while taking a brief break from the kitchen to address an adoring crowd.
“I remember hearing that when Tommy Dorsey first brought in Sinatra, he said to my grandfather Patsy, ‘I got this skinny kid from Hoboken, fatten him up!’ But if you look at the photos on the wall, it was Sinatra who brought in Jackie Gleason, who brought in Tom Hanks. Rosemary Clooney brought in George Clooney, who brought in Julia Roberts.” And it all started with Frank.
“I remember when Frank’s great-granddaughter Miranda came in,” Sal continued. “She made me cry because she called me over to the table and said, ‘Sal, can you do me a favor?’ I said, ‘Sure, sweetheart. What can I do?’ And she said, ‘Can you show me where my grandfather used to eat?’” Yes, it was here where Frank held court.
And then, the end was near. A platter of desserts was brought out to each table, from cannoli cake to tiramisu, and Maglio led the crowd in a sing-along of “Happy Birthday,” followed by his final song, “Theme from New York, New York.” As I walked out onto the frozen tundra that was 57th Street on this blustery December day, the curtain fell on celebrating Frank’s 110th.
So let’s have a toast to Frank, and from Frank himself to help wrap things up, something he’d always like to say during his later performances.
“May you live to be a hundred years old, and may the last voice you hear be mine.”
