The Little Owl

If Shakespeare's Puck were a hobgoblin about town in Greenwich Village today, the little owl would be his favorite restaurant. A rustic jewel box of a place with tall, wraparound windows, pressed tin ceiling, exposed brick walls, gentle whitewashed wood and whimsically cozy atmosphere, it's the perfect place for a customer, or impish fairy, to tuck into for the evening (if you can get a reservation). It's no wonder patrons flock to this tiny destination on a leafy corner of Bedford Street. At night it's a warm refuge with an open kitchen where customers can watch their food being prepared through a soft dance of flickering candles. As coveted as a reservation is at this thirty seat restaurant, the atmosphere is refreshingly unpretentious.

As people stood outside on a chilly April evening, they were offered mugs of hot coffee from the friendly hostess who apologized profusely for their wait. Every aspect of service was just as gracious. Our knowledgeable server cheerfully explained the menu but not in a ten minute soliloquy that so many force upon their customers these days. When asked if the bar offered a non-alcoholic option aside from the usual sodas, juices and mineral water she said no but quickly followed this up with, "I'm sure they would be happy to whip something up for you." It's that kind of place. Humble, simple and proud, with helpful people all around to ensure a pleasant meal. And what a meal.

Executive Chef Joey Campanaro co-owns the little owl with his partner Gabriel Stulman. Campanaro's menu reflects both his Italian American heritage and the unfussy yet precise dishes offered at his previous stops, Pace and The Harrison. The selections feel personal and intimate, providing a peak into the passion and pride the owners have for their lovely place.

With just eight appetizers, seven entrees including one special, and three sides, the menu is approachable and reads like what it's supposed to, a menu, as opposed to the trendy ten pound tome encountered at some restaurants. The selections are straightforward and honest with a few playful touches incorporated into every dish to keep things interesting. I shouldn't even mention the meatball sliders, as famous as they arleady are, but I can't resist. Four cheerful little meatballs tucked into mini parmesan garlic buns, held together with a toothpick, that push their tiny bread hats a bit askew. The moist and flavorful balls of beef, pork and veal are punctuated by tart and salty pecorino. It's the dish that everyone marvels at when it's brought to a nearby table and then immediately orders for themselves if they haven't already.

We also had the grilled scallop appetizer. The scallops bore deep grill marks and sat perched atop a salad of palm, fennel and citrus dressed with a perky vinaigrette that brought everything together. The snap of fennel and velvety palm slices married well with the fresh, pearly scallops bound by a charred grid of flavor.

The crispy chicken entree hovered between down home southern pan-fried goodness and the crispy deep-fried variety. The snappy, toffee hued skin gave way to a moist interior made bright by the buoyant addition of sherry and Dijon. Served atop a mound of asparagus home fries, the dish proved an inventive spin on the classic "chicken & fries".

The other entree that everyone talks about at the little owl is the thick cut pork chop that would make Fred Flinstone blush. Thick is an understatement concerning this behemoth. What makes this meal approachable are the tender parmesan butter beans and punctuation of dandelion greens beneath it. Those brave enough to see past the chop's sheer heft and actually cut into it, are rewarded with, dare I say it, delicate flesh, cooked just past medium rare to ensure a tender, juicy bite. If not already, along with its quirkier slider cousins, this colossus teeters on the brink of infamy.

After so much protein, plate-licking sauces and fresh market vegetables and starches, we opted out of dessert. The menu reflected the brevity of the dinner selection and included a pear crisp, warm brownie cake and raspberry beignets among a few others. There's also a cheese option that represents Spain, Canada, France and with a nod to Chef Campanaro's heritage, two from Italy. Port and sherry digestifs were offered as are a few dessert wines. The wine and beer selection is limited, but with food this good, this wobble is easily overlooked.

As we walked away into the breezy night at the end of our meal, I wondered if all the hype is worth it. Certainly. While not abundant on innovation or (refreshingly) pretension, the little owl is a place to return to again and again with the promise of a lovely meal in an understated environment delivered by exquisite service. If ever a place to have a midsummer (or spring, fall or winter) night's dream, it is the little owl.