Sergio was kneading dough for the gnocchi when I stopped by. I slipped onto a stool at the bar to wait, the scent of roasted coffee beans thick in the air. Crisp white napkins were folded into "bishop hats" on tables, the obligatory homage to Frank hung on a salmon-colored wall. Waiters and cooks dashed around, prepping for a busy night which included a party in the private Sala... More >>>