Carbone

There’s only one situation in which you’ll want to find yourself at Carbone in Greenwich Village and that’s a situation where someone else is paying.

It’s one of the most preposterously expensive menus in New York. $34 for a small Caesar salad. $47 linguine with clams. Shrimp scampi that’s $42 a shrimp.

But if you’re lucky enough to go with generous benefactors — in this particular case, my parents — you’ll have a grand old time. Carbone is the most elegant, well-honed, Italian red-sauce joint in America.

From the moment you enter, it feels like you’re entering a secret society. A man outside asks if you have reservations, to keep the riff-raff out. At the hostess stand, a chic woman gives off Eyes Wide Shut vibes: you expect her to ask for the password. In this case, the password is your name being on the list. Lucky for us, it was.

Every dish at Carbone is the best-possible version of that dish you can imagine. So the garlic bread in the basket at the beginning? (You can spy it towards the bottom of the basket.) It’s drenched in olive oil, loaded with minced garlic, and has that perfect combination of crisp on the outside and soft on the inside. Then there’s the tomato-topped focaccia, so light you expect it to float off your table. And the salami tastes like a trip to Italy in your mouth.

The baked clams form a triptych: one set has lardo on top, one set has oregano, and one has uni. They were all terrific.

The Caesar’s prepared table-side and each leaf is slick with that sharp, garlicky, olive oil-infused dressing. And don’t ignore the crouton; they’re like little golden loaves in-and-of-themselves.

When it comes to their pasta, I could bury myself in their spicy rigatoni vodka and be very happy.

For their entree, my parents shared the Veal Parmesan, which looks like it took an entire baby cow to make.

I had the pork chop and peppers which came out a little overdone but still scrumptious.

The best part of the whole meal is the little plate of rainbow cookies they bring to the table. These are my favorite cookies of all time, so how could I not be in heaven? I was in such a rush to eat mine, I took a blurry picture.

And for our official dessert, we had the Nutella Tiramisu, a brilliant combination with a house-made ladyfinger on top.

Carbone isn’t a scam: its prices are right on the website. When you go, you know what you’re getting into. And once you accept that you’re paying big bucks to eat sublime Italian-American food, you’re in for a real party. And it tastes even better when that bill at the end goes to someone else. So I hope you’ll all join me in saying: thanks, mom and dad!

Carbone / 181 Thompson St, New York, NY 10012