I had dinner last night at Frankies 17, the Manhattan outpost of the original Frankies Spuntino in Carroll Gardens, Brookyln. Walking over from the Delancey Street station of the curséd F train, I had a vision that the Lower East Side is what my neighborhood, Inwood, will resemble in perhaps 15-20 years, after the high rents and whites migrate that far north because there’s nowhere else to go: charming bistros and bars and ugly new condo high-rises nudging up against grubby old-world apartment buildings occupied by Hispanics and college-age kids. (Although the facades of the old buildings on the LES are more beautiful in general than the ones in Inwood, which resemble slices of sheet cake adorned with fire escapes.)
Frankies occupies a narrow cozy space on Clinton Street with checkered tile floors, black lacquered tables and chairs for two, tin ceiling painted creamy white, bare bulbs, a small white candle on each table, etc. The apple-gorgonzola salad I started with was presented with small triangles of Gorgonzola and slices of baked apple organized on a plate on top of which loomed a teetering hill of watercress. It was a Chia Pet gone haywire and I couldn’t even see the cheese or the fruit. Although tasty, it was visually strange.
For my entree, my server gently pointed out that I had pronounced gnocchi wrong, but she bought it quickly and was real helpful, so I couldn’t begrudge her. It was topped with a marinara sauce and fresh ricotta and dense enough, in typical gnocchi fashion, to last several meals. It was delicious but basic and If I dined here again (which I would), I’d try something more adventurous, like the luncheon meatball sandwich I’ve heard good things about, or the dinner dish I was considering and wish I would have ordered instead, the homemade cavatelli with hot sausage and browned sage butter.
Frankies 17
- 17 Clinton Street (off Houston)
- (212) 253-2303
- Meal 13 of 52: apple-gorgonzola salad ($11), gnocchi marinara ($13) and a glass of house red wine ($6).
