I cut my teeth as a food writer as a regular contributor to a former column in The New York Times called “Neighborhood Joint.” I wrote a lot of these, I’m told more than anyone else, because I loved using my descriptions and storytelling skills to capture the magic of certain establishments, to help portray what keeps the owners and staff motivated and the customers satisfied.
I’ve taken this same approach to the features I’ve written here at Appetito, and I was recently reminded of this when I swung by Michael's of Brooklyn, a third-generation family institution, to talk about our upcoming promotional series. The essence of what I’m getting at when championing places like Michael’s was captured in these lines from the article linked above:
All that said about the superior cuisine, what defines the Michael's of Brooklyn experience is the aforementioned hospitality and ambiance. It's just one of those joints where you walk in — first time or regular — and know that the people who run the place and work there are passionately invested in all the best reasons people dedicate their lives to the restaurant business. They don't give a shit about Instagram. They care about people. They are devoted to the same ethos of providing an experience you can't get at home and making it all worth your while. This is why we go out to eat.
I believe that the experience of eating out is collectively informed by the disparate elements of a restaurant (food, service, ambiance, etc.) working collectively to provide an impression that is singular. For example, I’m going to less enjoy the house specialty of hipster joint #72 when the Gen Zerver tells me, in a room that is way too noisy, that my guests and I have 90 minutes to eat and a one-bottle of wine maximum per two people. Fuck that. Sorry, I digress…
Now, back to Michael’s. I’d argue that the superiority of experience can extend into products produced by the same type of establishment. Case in point: The line of jarred pasta sauces from Michael’s of Brooklyn. The fourth-generation recipe from the restaurant found its way into jars back in 2006. Now they offer six red sauce variations, an Alfredo and a Vodka sauce (respectively on the latter two). It’s a big operation, reaching most of America and sites overseas, but the sauce still tastes homemade and is well-established as a standout in the crowded jarred sauce field due to elevated flavors derived from minimum ingredients.
We are going to soon document the sauce making process and delivery, as well as exploring the other aspects that make Michael’s of Brooklyn so special. For now, I encourage sending your Italian-food loving family and friends one of the Michael’s of Brooklyn holiday boxes. There are three tiers: Dinner & Dessert Pack ($65), Premium Pack ($90), and the Platinum Pack ($200). Oh, and just in case you are wondering what to get me, I'm a Platinum guy...
More on Michael’s soon!
