Restaurant Review: Missy Robbins’s Lowest Key Pasta Paradiso | The New Yorker

"At Robbins’s newest spot, Misipasta, which opened last summer on the ground floor of a charming brick row house at 46 Grand St., I find a market as much as a restaurant: a narrow room given over to operational space with an airy pasta-making area up front, an efficient galley kitchen in back, shelves of groceries, a refrigerator case of sauces and cheeses, and a glass counter of fresh pastas by the pound. There’s a brief, focused eat-in menu that delivers exactly what a tired and hungry person wants—about twenty counter seats, dim soothing lights, cocktails and bitter Italian sodas, and an air that smells of Parmigiano and butter while the Pointer Sisters play. I love the enormous green salad of bitter mustard greens, frilly arugula, dates, and almonds in a sharp vinaigrette; the kingly mozzarella in carrozza; and the nutty, funky prosciutto served with enormous, fluffy gougères (try both in one bite). Though the to-go case shows a dozen shapes, the dine-in menu offers just two pastas and they’re enough: a subtle, nourishing spaghetti cooked just to the stern side of al dente, tossed with garlicky butter, starchy cooking water, shaved bottarga and crisp breadcrumbs; and luscious cappelletti—parmesan, ricotta, mascarpone and prosciutto—dressed simply in butter and sage and served in a small terra-cotta bowl that forces you to slow down and savor each bite. There’s often a third, to-go-only pastina in an intense, collagen-rich brodo that leaves your lips sticky. I also appreciate the all-day accessibility—the shop is open nearly all day, diners seated through around 10 P.M., so you can often breeze in at 11 A.M. or 3 P.M.—though I worry the secret will get out and the friendly, neighborhoody feel will tighten up; when warmer weather returns the beautiful backyard will reopen and nearly double capacity. Buy an espresso, a slice of crispy rosemary farinata, one of the city’s great secret artichoke sandwiches, a pint of satiny hazelnut gelato, a pound of lumache or paccheri, or a jar of the heady thirty-clove sauce—just know you won’t make Robbins’s pasta quite the same at home, but it’s worth trying." - Helen Rosner