We wouldn't recommend this if we didn't think you could handle it.
But we're going to ask you to head to Tribeca, sit in a spinning booth shaped like a teacup and drink cocktails made with cheese and anchovies. Oh, and you should bring a date. Preferably one with a loose definition of dinner.
Introducing Il Matto, a rambunctious new Italian date spot, operated by a self-professed madman, opening next week just in time to kick off your next adventurous night on the town.
Your first thought of Il Matto will most likely entail visions of a slightly futuristic, foreign art gallery—the place is sleek, mirrored and white, and there's a graffiti portrait of the owner on the wall that depicts him as a wild octopus. And then there are those rotating teacups: booths set on wheels that spin around their tables (sort of like a reverse lazy Susan).
But at its heart, this is still an Italian restaurant—most of the ingredients on the menu are imported, as are the chefs, bartenders, waiters and maybe your date. But rather than red sauce staples, you'll be stepping into the avant-garde of a Milanese fare crafted to match the polished atmosphere. Think gnocchi bathed in squid ink or pork bathed in a Parmigiano fondue.
But where things really start to get a little unhinged is the drink menu—the head bartender hails from Puglia, and she brought with her a stable of alcoholic insanity: one potion made with brandy and ricotta cheese (yes, solid ricotta cheese), another with butter and anchovies.
The teacups don't start spinning until you've had three.
But we're going to ask you to head to Tribeca, sit in a spinning booth shaped like a teacup and drink cocktails made with cheese and anchovies. Oh, and you should bring a date. Preferably one with a loose definition of dinner.
Introducing Il Matto, a rambunctious new Italian date spot, operated by a self-professed madman, opening next week just in time to kick off your next adventurous night on the town.
Your first thought of Il Matto will most likely entail visions of a slightly futuristic, foreign art gallery—the place is sleek, mirrored and white, and there's a graffiti portrait of the owner on the wall that depicts him as a wild octopus. And then there are those rotating teacups: booths set on wheels that spin around their tables (sort of like a reverse lazy Susan).
But at its heart, this is still an Italian restaurant—most of the ingredients on the menu are imported, as are the chefs, bartenders, waiters and maybe your date. But rather than red sauce staples, you'll be stepping into the avant-garde of a Milanese fare crafted to match the polished atmosphere. Think gnocchi bathed in squid ink or pork bathed in a Parmigiano fondue.
But where things really start to get a little unhinged is the drink menu—the head bartender hails from Puglia, and she brought with her a stable of alcoholic insanity: one potion made with brandy and ricotta cheese (yes, solid ricotta cheese), another with butter and anchovies.
The teacups don't start spinning until you've had three.
