Villa Mosconi

Behind Villa Mosconi's red awning and dated cursive sign, men who are likely lifetime members of the Tiro A Segno Italian heritage club next door slouch over veal marsala. Women wear floral dresses that recall couch upholstery from 1976, the year this Greenwich Village restaurant opened. A Carol Kane sound-alike does a very good impression of her impatient cat, waiting for her at home while she waits an hour for her check. Across the room, servers send regulars off with a hug, a doggy bag, and two cheek kisses.

At the mouth of MacDougal Street, Villa Mosconi dances to its own tune, several steps out of time with the Negroni drinkers walking by on their way to Dante. The reservation stalkers a block away at Carbone seem unaware of its existence, and the celeb chasers around the corner at Emilio’s Ballato will probably never hear of Villa Mosconi either, unless they get tired of waiting in line and search for “Italian near me.” 

photo credit: Alex Staniloff

From the wooden bar area up front to a dining room that feels welcoming despite its hospital-like drop ceiling and white floor tiles, Villa Mosconi is a party in its own pocket universe. The Northern Italian cooking is as charmingly uneven as the service, ranging from “it exists” to “pretty good.” Waiters pop up to spout the day’s specials, then disappear, forgetting to bring the wine until you’ve finished studying all of the oil paintings ringing the room. It's a little chaotic, and, once that wine appears, a lot of fun.

The menu is short and to the point—some dishes are labeled simply “Bolognese,” “Tomato Sauce,” “Marinara Sauce”—but ask about specials and homemade pasta, and you’ll discover plenty of variety. Nothing on the table makes an urgent argument to return, yet a plate of pillowy gnocchi with pesto is intensely comforting. And if you order the tender osso bucco in a lumpy, saffron-scented mattress of risotto, a server will carry it hoisted above his shoulder, so everyone in the room can see.

photo credit: Alex Staniloff

This isn’t exactly high-finesse dining, but it is endearing, right down to the all-season garden room out back. Come with friends who have a soft spot for obsolescence and don’t expect to be entertained by a self-referential schtick. Villa Mosconi is really just a second home for gently eccentric neighborhood regulars, disguised as an old-school Italian restaurant. (Monte’s, down the street and owned by the same family, is a bit more touristy.) Share some wine poured out of painted ceramic carafes. And if your white tablecloth gets splattered with drops of Chianti by the time a plate of big, gooey tiramisu arrives, that’s just the mark of the good time you've had here.

Food Rundown

Free Bread

You can safely ignore this cold bread and the sesame breadsticks it comes with, but it does help pass the time while waiting for your food.

Baked Clams

These are nice little morsels of clam, thick with breadcrumbs, and our favorite of the starters we've tried here.

Gnocchi With Pesto

The fresh pasta dishes here are pretty reliable. This plate of plump, soft gnocchi is our top pick—it comes with an herbaceous pesto and is big enough for two to share. It's topped with spoons of cheese from a bowl—no fussy table-side parm grating here.

Veal And Spinach Ravioli In Sage Butter

Back before supermarket ravioli existed, this kind of pasta must have seemed especially luxurious. Now it’s merely tasty and satisfying, but it does have a good strong sage kick.

photo credit: Alex Staniloff

Osso Bucco With Saffron Risotto

Is this the most tender baby beef you’ll ever eat? Is the risotto cooked to that perfect point of sticky starchiness? Maybe not. But we did scrape up every last bite off the plate, and then extracted the marrow from the bone. For $50, we'd probably do it again. But we’d be more interested in trying the veal marsala, or parmigiana, as everyone else here seems to be doing.

Tiramisu

A large, very soft and creamy slice of tiramisu, this can be safely split between at least three people.

Tartufo

Bigger (and more edible) than a Magic 8 ball, this tartufo has a nice thick chocolate shell and chunks of candied cherry.