Technically, I guess this is more like Appetizer of the Week, but the sardine antipasto ($12) at Bibiana packs so many humble pleasures on one plate that I couldn't resist plugging a starter instead of an entree.

Chef Nicholas Stefanelli buys his fresh whole sardines twice a week from Portugal, debones them in house, and cures them with salt for about 30 minutes. The kitchen then "rinses" the sardines with a white-wine mixture of saffron, dill, and garlic before finally marinating the fillets in extra virgin olive oil mixed with dill, bay leaf, and garlic.

The marinated fillets are quickly grilled and served on a small nest of "Venetian onions." Or, to be more precise, served on Stefanelli's version of the slightly undercooked onions that Venetians pair with liver. The chef melts down garlic and anchovies in olive oil before adding the sliced onions and more seasonings, covering the pan, and cooking those rings until they're drowning in flavor. The final touch are the bread crumbs, made in-house and applied liberally to add both texture and spice to the dish.

Given the sardines, anchovies, and all the garlic, you might think this antipasto pungent enough to raise the dead. Or at least pungent enough to keep vampires and potential suitors away. It's not. The dish is astonishingly subdued.

The sardines smack of the sea, fresh and firm and full of flavor. The onions add more complexity to the bite than I can break down in a sentence or two; the mere act of explanation, in fact, would dare to suggest that the harmony of flavors could be deciphered and cataloged, as if someone could begin to explain why Mozart's Jupiter symphony were an act of genius.

Yes, these simple sardines are that good.

Like a lot of chefs these days, Dean Gold, the boss man at Dino, buys whole animals. In his case, he buys whole Pekin ducks via D'Artagnan and butchers them in-house for the breast meat and legs. Some of the leftovers are reserved for stock. The neck skin and the offal, however, Gold saves for a sausage antipasto that he calls the "Duck Beggar's Purse."  

On the plate, the appetizer doesn't look like much. Not to put this too bluntly, but these thick rounds look like slightly less-uniform slices of Jimmy Dean sausage, all fried up and crispy around the edges. But as soon as you take that first bite, you know you're dealing with a product far superior to anything manufactured in corporate America.

Gold takes the neck skin and stuffs it with a small smörgåsbord of meat: various duck offal (except the liver, which imparts too strong a flavor), pork belly and shoulder, and veal breast. He'll season that meaty mixture with orange zest, garlic, herbes de Provence, and black pepper, then add some duck fat, tie it up in the skin, and poach it in more duck fat. The resulting sausage is cooled in the fat and aged in the refrigerator for a few days.

When prepared for the plate, the sausage is removed from its fatty overcoat, sliced, and griddled, its fat rendering on the hot flattop until it creates that outer layer of crispy goodness. The final grace note is vital: These sausage rounds are then paired with a duck-stock-and-orange-juice reduction, which together provides you with this deeply satisfying sweet-and-savory combination.

It's a rich and meaty way to start your meal at Dino. It's also a helluva lot of work for something that looks so simple on the plate.

Photo by Darrow Montgomery

How can you go to 2Amys and resist this pie? Meliakristin explains.

Go to 2Amys for something other than pizza? That seems an act bordering on sacrilege, at least to this critic who still thinks Peter Pastan is turning out the best pies in town.

But Restaurant Rater meliakristin's mind turns to other delicacies when visiting the pizzeria. Here's what she writes:

2 Amys offers authentic DOC pizzas as well as some more creative variations on Neapolitan classics. While the pizza here is better than most, the star of the menu is the “little things” which can be ordered as appetizers or a tapas style main course. My husband and I usually opt for the later, especially on a Friday night when we just want something to nosh on. The bar at 2 Amys is reminiscent of a quaint Italian tavern — nothing over the top ,just a variety of savory antipasti including artisan curried salamis and imported Italian cheeses. I would suggest dining at 2 Amys after a week spent down the work rabbit hole — it’s the perfect place to resurface, relax and converse.

Do you have a different take on 2Amys? Then let us know what you think!

Jim had been planning this thing—or "ting" as he had come to call it—for nearly a month. It started out as a simple birthday dinner for our friend Lou, he of the award-winning holiday cookie recipe. It practically turned into a quest to replicate the entire menu from the late, lamented A.V. Ristoranto.

The immovable object in this equation was Lou's birthday and his love for red-sauce Italian cuisine. The irresistible force was Jim, a man who's never satisfied with hosting something "grand" when "epic" is within reach. Each of the party guests had volunteered to prepare at least two dishes (and sometimes three) for the evening. Jim's e-mails leading up to the party were encouraging and helpful. Some were even hilarious parodies of goombah language and culture. Sample:

I t'ought we might do a update on dis boitday ting for our good friend, Lou. It is de ting he requested: old-fashioned red-sauce dinner. Like we used to do back in Hoboken. Remember? Sinatra on the box? Garlic in the air? (Or was that Gina's perfume?)

Below, you will see de t'ing you said you would do. If there are question marks, it means, I don't know. Hey, who do I look like, de freakin' Answer Man? Fuhgettabowtit.

In the days leading up to the party, however, some of Jim's e-mails took on an edgier tone. In one, he wrote: "I know this is a terrible thing to be thinking, but it has been bugging me all day that we don't have anything for the table. I may make an additional pasta dish or two. I'll see about the time." In another he said he would try to make escarole, since the people assigned to that dish (ahem, me and the wife) could only find spinach.

By the time the birthday soiree rolled around, we had enough food to feed not only the 12 invited guests but also each guest's 20 closest friends. The primi piatti alone included four pasta dishes and a pasticciata, which is essentially a polenta lasagna. We danced between courses to encourage further gluttony.

No one puked, and Lou loved it all. He loved it so much he ended up with a "I love bacon" tattoo on his ass. Long story, for another time.

The entire menu (well as much as I can remember) and more photos are below the jump.

PRE-DINNER COCKTAIL:

Martinis

PRE-ANTIPASTO ANTIPASTO:

Anchovy-bread spiedini
Tuna spread on crostini

ANTIPASTO:

Two types of stuffed olives
Prosciutto
Stuffed peppers
Provolone
Salami
Mozzarella
Artichokes
Boiled eggs
Sun-dried tomatoes
Crostini

PALATE DIRTIER:

Utica greens

PRIMI COURSE:

Spaghetti and meatballs
Manicotti
Pasticciatta
Shrimp fra diavolo
Vodka penne

SECONDI:

Braciole
Sausage and peppers
Chicken parmesan

CONTORNI:

Broccoli rabe
Escarole
Spinach

DESSERT:

Tiramisu

DESSERT DRINKS:

Sambuca
Amaretto
Limoncello

BEVERAGES:

10 bottles of red wine

BREAD:

Lotsa bread, some of it garlic bread.

Photos by Angela Potter.