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Lupa

170 Thompson St. Between Houston and Bleecker

What could possibly be said about de facto wunderkind Mario Batali's downmarket joint that hasn't already been said? I really don't know, honestly, rhetorical questions are usually lost on me. Lupa is (cue superlatives) the best freakin italian meal I have ever eaten, and perhaps one of the most pleasant as well. At least after the lengthy, two hour wait for a two-topper, since reservations are only for those who plan in advance. On the bright side, if you can snag a seat at the bar, you could start working your way through the several hundred italian varietals on the encyclopaedic wine list.

If I recall, we started with a nice, lush Valpolicella--sans wicker--and a huge ball of salty, fresh buffalo mozarella drizzled with extra-virgin olive oil. I thereafter decided to build my entire meal around balls. Sounds puerile, I know, but it was well worth it. To sidestep, the big ball o' cheese isn't the only appetizer, or antipasti if you want to get technical; a nice charcuterie board can also be had with a thorough variety of salamis, hams, cheese and other types of salty, aged snacks for about the same low price as the cheese ball. Pastas, next in the traditional italian coursing, average about fifteen dollars each, and you absolutely can not go wrong with fluffy, round Gnocchi in a fennel sausage ragu or a lightly dressed Linguine in a lemon-garlic olio. Each dish featured a very precise balance of sauce to pasta, removing any bread-sop or dry-noodle unpleasantries, and each was nicely portioned. The end result left both my companion and I terribly satisfied and sated without being overly stuffed, leaving plenty of room for dessert.

So what sort of ball can be had for dessert that isn't a disgusting sexual fetish made famous in the movie clerks? Tartufo. Something I had never heard of before moving to the city. Ours was a happy little mix of vanilla gelato and bits of biscotti surrounding a chocolate-hazelnut truffle core, formed into a sphere, dipped in chocolate, and dusted with chopped hazelnuts. Decadent and delicious, the tartufo paired very nicely with the cappucino, which wasn't extraordinary, but didn't suck either. Don't fear the check when it finally arrives. After bliss, splendor, and post-prandial stupor, you too will find out that two people can dine like the Medicis -- wine, appetizers, dessert and celebrity chef -- for a near-peasanty price.