The Little Owl

American.  Everyone raves about The Little Owl.  And I say this in a city of more than eight million people. So why the mad love? Two words: food and service (okay three).

Each dish is the dream version of what you’d expect. Take the gravy meatball slider. On paper, simple enough. Which is why it’s impossible to imagine the depth of flavor you’ll encounter in that first bite. Or how bummed you’ll be when you’ve had your last.

Getting over it was made easier by the baked eggplant parmesan (tomato sauce, arugula salad). So warm, rich and thick you could be in Italia.

Then there’s the aptly billed crispy chicken (asparagus home fries, sherry jus). What’s not revealed is how incredibly juicy it is. Who knew chicken was capable of such succulence?!

If your mindset is fish, consider doubling down on the whole branzino. You can revel in its filleted deliciousness plus the crispy lobster paella nestled beside it.

Leaving without dessert would be nothing less than criminal. Just close your eyes and place your finger anywhere on that menu.

Some guaranteed happiness, in no particular order: cherry kahlua bread pudding with Mexican chocolate sauce, strawberry rhubarb crisp (almond streusel and mascarpone gelato), vanilla panna cotta (macerated plums, cherry pistachio biscotti) or chocolate soufflé cake with espresso gelato.

The food alone is reason enough to be here. But that’s only half the why because the host is second to none.

From the moment you walk through the door, you’re wrapped in attentiveness (whether it be your first visit or your hundredth). Her warmth is apparent in every word and gesture, the perpetual TLC enhancing this already ideal meal.

So put The Little Owl on your to do list. Or your bucket list. An entire city can’t be wrong.