Torrisi: My Favourite Food Experience in 2025
Major Food Group
New York is an overwhelming city for a weirdo type A planner who likes to pretend he’s chill. I spent six weeks there, ate out every day (and night, oops) and still feel like I barely scratched the surface. Obviously.
Every time I went out, I’d stumble upon five more spots to add to the list. (Here’s my Beli account, if you care, top 300 in the world no big deeaaaaaal).
Yes, I hit up The Corner Store (not because Taylor Swift went there, but it didn’t hurt). More than twenty different pizza shops. Ordered countless bagel combinations (I’m a sausage, egg, and cheese, on an everything bagel, add scallion cream cheese kind of guy). Broadway shows starring Denzel and Jake G. Knicks at Madison Square Garden. Movie premieres featuring Fassbender and Blanchett walking the red carpet. Late nights at the Comedy Cellar. Taking the F train home. Waiting in that line to finally try Lucali (it lived up to the hype). That fifth floor at Moma. Watched the Oscars at Nitehawk.
I’m bragging, and it’s annoying, I get it. Or maybe saying I had three slices of pizza a day isn’t the brag that I think it is? Anyways…still…this long lead up is all to say my two hours at Torrisi might be the best decision I made in the Big Apple (that means New York).
Torrisi is not just another incredible Italian-American New York restaurant. It’s the work of Major Food Group. The same crew behind Carbone, the juggernaut frequented by celebs. Even Jimmy Fallon goes there! Rich Torrisi, Jeff Zalaznick, Mario Carbone. Names that carry weight in New York dining. These guys build restaurants that locals love and tourists dream about.
The new Torrisi opened in late 2022 inside the Puck Building in Nolita. It’s a landmark. They filled the space with vaulted ceilings, marble, velvet, and natural light spilling in that feels staged. High brick walls. The awards came fast. One Michelin star. A million articles.
The place has a reputation you bring to it before you even walk in. Tough table to get. Reservations gone in milliseconds. Not even worth checking most of the time. That’s why walk-ins wait hours outside. That’s the weight hanging over Torrisi before the food even hits the table. You’ve had to earn this seat. But hype only gets you so far. I needed to try it and see for myself. I also wanted the Instagram pic to brag a little more. Again, I can be annoying, I know.
Needless to say, I didn’t have a reservation. I knew it wouldn’t matter. Why? Because I have figured out the secret to getting in anywhere in New York City. When you have no friends (or dates) whatsoever, and line up by yourself an hour before it opens, you’ll always get a seat at the bar!
On this day, I actually went in at noon, they added me to a list, and an hour later I got a text notification they’d have a bar seat for me at 2:45.
Also, it’s worth noting that I’ve tried to get in here twice before at insane times and couldn’t make it because we had tickets to things, but the hostess was ALWAYS polite. No laughing in my face. No “Yes, we can get you in…in four months…” like they sometimes do in the movies. A week earlier, my friend and I tried to get in. We lined up early. Thirtieth-ish in line. We knew there was no shot, but hey, we’re here. The staff still offered us an 8 pm table, three hours later. We couldn’t take it—we had tickets to Mike Birbiglia at the Beacon. But they actually tried. They wanted us to make it work. There’s no pretension here. The hostess even found out I was from Calgary. Her boyfriend was too. We talked Stampede, of course. That doesn’t happen at everywhere, let alone at a Michelin-starred spot.
Anyways, I was there, they made it work, walked in at 2:45. The room was as described in so many Instagram reels I had already doomscrolled through: immaculate. A space that’s polished but not stiff. The staff in dinner jackets, moving fast but with a friendly calm. The hum of people talking, plates hitting tables, wine glasses clinking. I watched all of it while I sipped (chugged) a glass of champagne by the bar. Time slowed. The nerves faded. The booze helped lol. My seat at the bar was ready. I wasn’t out of place anymore. The bartender handed me a menu that looked like a wedding invitation, she read me the many specials, the highlights, suggestions, what they were out of, all of it. It was long but helpful. Friendly and never felt recited or tired. Sorkin-esque. And I mean early Sorkin, too, like, West Wing walk and talks and A Few Good Men courtroom monologues, not the Being the Ricardos-era Sorkin. Remember that? Anyways.
I was in.
Ordering felt easy. The bartender didn’t rush me. No sales pitch. I didn’t play it coy. A bottle of prosecco, kept cold behind the bar. Foie gras terrine. Tortellini pomodoro. Chicken alla griglia. Sitting there, glass full, staring at that menu, I felt the way I’ve only felt a few times in my life. The first time at Attica in Melbourne. A moment where you know you’re in rarefied air, something worth remembering. This was one of those nights. A story I’d tell. A restaurant I’d always recommend. Another annoying brag I’ll always have in the backpocket.
Foie gras terrine.
Smooth. Rich. A punch of fat and flavour that coats your mouth. It came with the right balance—sweet, salty, sharp. Not the biggest portion, not meant to be. Just an opening statement (kind of a callback to my A Few Good Men comment).
Tortellini pomodoro.
The icon. This is why you fight for a table. Small parcels of pasta filled with creamy ricotta in a clean and fresh tomato sauce. I know it sounds simple. But it’s perfect. You take a bite and you understand why people talk about this dish in conversations and in articles. Why it’s mentioned with Tatiana’s oxtail tortellini. Why it sits in the same conversation as the whipped ricotta toast at Theodora’s. The gunpowder dosa at Semma. The mozzarella sticks at Bernie’s. These are the dishes you chase in New York. The ones you need to eat before you leave or die (too much?). The tortellini is pure comfort, but dialed up. It’s dish that makes you feel both at home and like you’re somewhere special, because you are.
Chicken alla griglia.
A simple name for a dish that took its time. Longer than I expected. I didn’t even notice. I didn’t care. I was in no rush. The prosecco was cold, the room alive. The bartender noticed too. My bottle was empty, but she poured me an extra couple anyway. At one point, she topped me off again, smiled, and shrugged. Maybe it was to tide me over. Maybe it was because I wasn’t complaining about the time. I like to think it’s because I was being cool about it. When the chicken landed, it was worth every minute. Charred outside, juicy inside. Smoky. Salty. A dish that tasted like the grill had its own personality. Not complicated, not covered up. Just honest cooking done right with a pan sauce I still think about.
Affogato
I never order dessert…unless I’m somewhere really cool! People love the almond cheesecake here (and hey, you’re in NY), but this isn’t a normal affogato (you know, ice cream and espresso). Served in a martini glass, this one has ice cream, mascarpone, hot fudge, and an espresso granita. A classic dessert, with the classic hot and cold, sweet and bitter elements, but elevated in a fun way.
By the end, I wasn’t stuffed. I wasn’t feeling horrible about how stuffed I’d made myself. I was satisfied in a way that felt rare. Usually, there’s an overindulgence that creates a deep shame with a physically and emotionally sick subway ride home. I’ve eaten a lot of meals. I’ve chased food in cities around the world (more bragging). But sitting at that bar in Nolita, alone, with bubbles in my glass and pasta on the plate, I knew this was one of the best.
Would I recommend it? Yes. Show up early. Line up at four. Get on the text list. Kill the wait wandering through Soho, Nolita, West Village, whatever. Grab a drink at Dante. Head to Katana Kitten after (sit upstairs). Check out Sip and Guzzle, even if it sounds more like an X-rated sex shop. Sit at a bar anywhere! Just remember the time Taylor Swift sang, “You’re the West Village…you still do it for me, babe.”
Enjoy Torrisi.
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