The Little Owl

For the past two years, one of the hardest tables to get in New York has been The Little Owl, a tiny New American restaurant in Greenwich Village. Frank Bruni gave it a rave review in the Times, and waits of a month for a table have been common ever since. Nobody thinks that it serves the best food in New York, or even that it's the most fun restaurant in town--with only 30 seats, it can be tight and loud. But everyone seems to love its charmingly earnest friendliness and its straightforward, not-too-expensive menu. And above all else, people love its pork chop, a gigantic brick of meat still on the bone and dusted with curry and cumin and other assorted goodies. We've been trying to see what the fuss is about for a while now, and finally made it the other night.

Our verdict: the pork chop really was fantastic and the meatball sliders, made with beef, veal, pork, and lots of pecorino, were like a delicious flashback to childhood sloppy joes. The arctic char could have used a little more charring, but the aioli fries, chocolate cake, and raspberry beignets (with Nutella!) were great. With the servers chatting away with diners, the host smiling as he encouraged us to order dessert, and the sunset light streaming in through the windows, it reminded us, in a city constantly in search of the new, of the charms of ordinariness.