Monte’s Restaurant

Old-Village nostalgia brings the crowds to this 1918 holdout. Most diners seem to be die-hard regulars; they receive hugs and handshakes while newcomers have plates slammed down in front of them, along with a few cursory grunts. Everyone gets the same sloppy, garlicky, saucy fare. Yet for each Marsala-smothered chicken boccaniere (thin breasts rolled around mozzarella and shrimp) and red-sauce-oppressed lasagna, another dish demonstrates restraint—like a generous portion of shrimp scampi lightly dressed with garlic, or a lemony, gently battered veal francese. Each is as surprising as one of the waiters cracking a smile.