"Don't eat sweets, they'll spoil your dinner." Sound familiar? Well I have a question for you, Mom: what happens when sweets are my dinner? On Mondays from 6-9 p.m. I discovered that Vaccaro's in Little Italy has an all-you-can-eat smorgasbord of delectable heart attacks drenched in chocolate sauce, filled with custard and topped with whipped cream.
Screw Mom's old-fashioned rules! In fact, a portrait of creator Gioacchino Vaccaro presides over the shop to ensure visitors aptly stuff their faces.
8:25 p.m.
Consider it an extreme pie-eating contest. The ultimate iron man's goal: stuff myself with as many delightful pastries as is humanly possible by 9 p.m. With this in mind, I sit down at a corner table with some friends. Our waitress, Francesca, comes to the table to announce we have one half hour to indulge in the bliss of all-you-can-eat desserts. Only one half hour -- sweet God! We had to work fast.
Round One, 8:35 p.m.
A Roman orgy of Baci Ball, Peanut Butter Fantasy, Pizzelle alla Napolitano and the Original Colosseo. (The Colosseo is pictured above our table like some Animal Planet action shot -- a devilishly happy predator-child swooping down on his waffle and gelato prey). We dig in and the sugar high begins. Greedy forks reach across the table stabbing at everything in reach. It is heavenly.
Round Two, 8:45 p.m.
My friend Colleen, pastry connoisseur that she is, instructs us to pace ourselves. Like town drunks we promptly order a second round. Francesca delivers fried Cannoli Chips and Dip, Oreo Mudslide mated with Cream Puff Heaven followed by Strawberry Granita. The massacre was swift and devastating -- wounded pastries ooze cream filling and drown in their own fried dough and chocolate hot fudge topping. They never stood a chance -- and I'm beginning to feel sick. More water, Francesca!
Round Three, 8:57 p.m.
The clock is ticking. We delve into the menu one more time. The girls have already given in -- a simple plate of assorted cookies. Lame. Weaklings. I order an Apple Strudel Sundae and my other friend goes for a lemony slice of Italian Cheesecake. Three bites in, however, and I'm down for the count -- Vaccaro's had me beaten.
9 p.m.
We turned to look at ourselves in the wall of mirrors along the back of the restaurant -- gasp! Bloated with satisfaction, we waddle out of Vaccaro's, stomachs full and waistbands strained.
Take that, Mom!
Dish: The glowing neon signs around Vaccaro's tell you everything you need to know -- gelato, espresso, cannoli. The menu reads like a baker's little black book: gelato, doughy confections, coffee and espresso drinks served hot or cold and other sweet treats. To clarify, in case your mind is still spinning on that sugar high from earlier, my troupe ordered Baci Ball, Oreo Mudslide, Cannoli Chips and Dip, Peanut Butter Fantasy, Pizelle alla Napolitano, Original Colosseo, Strawberry Granita, Italian Cheesecake, Apple Strudel Sundae, assorted cookies and Cream Puff Heaven.
Damage: My friends and I ordered this shamefully filling three-course pastry meal for only $12 per person -- that's three enormous desserts for each of us.
Decision: One of my professors told me once that, when he was young, he believed heaven was made of Twinkies. He was wrong. Heaven is made of homemade pastries and it is in Little Italy. Looking for something absolutely indulgent and better than sex? Don't laugh; go to Vaccaro's.
Screw Mom's old-fashioned rules! In fact, a portrait of creator Gioacchino Vaccaro presides over the shop to ensure visitors aptly stuff their faces.
8:25 p.m.
Consider it an extreme pie-eating contest. The ultimate iron man's goal: stuff myself with as many delightful pastries as is humanly possible by 9 p.m. With this in mind, I sit down at a corner table with some friends. Our waitress, Francesca, comes to the table to announce we have one half hour to indulge in the bliss of all-you-can-eat desserts. Only one half hour -- sweet God! We had to work fast.
Round One, 8:35 p.m.
A Roman orgy of Baci Ball, Peanut Butter Fantasy, Pizzelle alla Napolitano and the Original Colosseo. (The Colosseo is pictured above our table like some Animal Planet action shot -- a devilishly happy predator-child swooping down on his waffle and gelato prey). We dig in and the sugar high begins. Greedy forks reach across the table stabbing at everything in reach. It is heavenly.
Round Two, 8:45 p.m.
My friend Colleen, pastry connoisseur that she is, instructs us to pace ourselves. Like town drunks we promptly order a second round. Francesca delivers fried Cannoli Chips and Dip, Oreo Mudslide mated with Cream Puff Heaven followed by Strawberry Granita. The massacre was swift and devastating -- wounded pastries ooze cream filling and drown in their own fried dough and chocolate hot fudge topping. They never stood a chance -- and I'm beginning to feel sick. More water, Francesca!
Round Three, 8:57 p.m.
The clock is ticking. We delve into the menu one more time. The girls have already given in -- a simple plate of assorted cookies. Lame. Weaklings. I order an Apple Strudel Sundae and my other friend goes for a lemony slice of Italian Cheesecake. Three bites in, however, and I'm down for the count -- Vaccaro's had me beaten.
9 p.m.
We turned to look at ourselves in the wall of mirrors along the back of the restaurant -- gasp! Bloated with satisfaction, we waddle out of Vaccaro's, stomachs full and waistbands strained.
Take that, Mom!
Dish: The glowing neon signs around Vaccaro's tell you everything you need to know -- gelato, espresso, cannoli. The menu reads like a baker's little black book: gelato, doughy confections, coffee and espresso drinks served hot or cold and other sweet treats. To clarify, in case your mind is still spinning on that sugar high from earlier, my troupe ordered Baci Ball, Oreo Mudslide, Cannoli Chips and Dip, Peanut Butter Fantasy, Pizelle alla Napolitano, Original Colosseo, Strawberry Granita, Italian Cheesecake, Apple Strudel Sundae, assorted cookies and Cream Puff Heaven.
Damage: My friends and I ordered this shamefully filling three-course pastry meal for only $12 per person -- that's three enormous desserts for each of us.
Decision: One of my professors told me once that, when he was young, he believed heaven was made of Twinkies. He was wrong. Heaven is made of homemade pastries and it is in Little Italy. Looking for something absolutely indulgent and better than sex? Don't laugh; go to Vaccaro's.
