Melissa Clark - Frannys: Simple Seasonal Italian

Andrew Feinberg

Francine Stephens

Melissa Clark

For our moms, Shelley Feinberg and Barbara Stephens

The thing that instantly struck me about Frannys was the aroma of the place. Its an almost synesthetic experience, so much more than just the smell of a typical wood-fired pizza: a golden sort of scent, of warmth and light and all things savory. Frannys just smells goodwhich is, sadly, not the case at many restaurants. But at Frannys there is the scent of fresh garlic, and really good olive oil, and the fire you see the moment you walk in the door. There is the intensification of all smells in the marriage of ingredients in the flames: blistered Romano beans with chili oil, fire-roasted broccoli, melting cheese, blackening crust. It is unforgettable.

Francine and Andrews famous clam pizza was the first dish to woo meto my knowledge, there is no other clam pizza like it. It is nearly naked, spread with a clam-broth-and-cream reduction and sprinkled with shelled clams, chili pepper, and fresh parsley leaves. Every element of the pizza is deftly calibrated so that the clams real tastetheir essential clamnesscomes through. You can taste this harmony of ingredients in all Frannys pizzas, from the classic balance of buffalo mozzarella, San Marzano tomato sauce, and house-made fennel sausage on the sausage pizza to the radical simplicity of the pizza bianca: chewy, thin, charred crust; extra-virgin olive oil; and a generous scattering of Maldon sea salt. Where else can you find this? I believe there is no better pizza in all of New York.

When Frannys introduced pastas, it seemed impossible to imagine that you would ever want to eat one instead of their incredible pizzaand yet, unsurprisingly, it is some of the best pasta I have had outside of Rome. The beauty of each dish is in its simplicity: theres nothing eccentric or exotic here, just perfect al dente spaghetti, maccheroni, and penne, strewn with seasonal vegetables and herbs. And, indeed, the salads and vegetables here are as much the stars as the pizza and pasta. Francine writes that great ingredients demand respect, and vegetables are as deserving as anyand you can see this vegetable reverence in every dish. One spring I had the best fava bean crostini imaginable at Frannys: little garlicky toasts overflowing with fresh fava beans, torn mint leaves, and Pecorino cheese. (You can find the recipewhich is shockingly straightforwardon .) And as you thumb through these pages, you start to absorb the easy grace with which meals are assembled at Frannys, taking in the idea of improvising with whatever happens to catch your eye at the farmers market. This book shows you that with some good bread or dried pasta, some cheese, and a bunch of ripe vegetables, you can always make something delicious for your family.

Just as remarkable amid all this inspired cooking is the sense of community that the restaurant engenders. I love the way they list all their suppliers on every menuall the farms, creameries, and orchards that grow or produce the ingredients that make these dishes possible. Andrew and Francine are part of a network of restaurateurs who are our kindred spirits, believing in the importance of provenance and seasonality and ripeness. And the community they have created within the walls of their restaurant is lovely to see: There are few things as magical as eating hot pizza in their back garden on a warm summer evening, in the glow of strings of small globe lights, the sky holding on to the blue color of twilight for hours. I love that they make room for families too, so that in those early dinner hours, the place is full of kids who are getting introduced, some of them for the very first time, to this wonderfully basic Italian food. It is so great to be able to come back to this restaurant, to be able to rely on something so straightforward, without pretense. Thank goodness there is someone who is doing this! This book captures the beating heart of what makes Frannys so beautiful: its simplicity, its hospitality, its ability to make the ordinary surprising, andabove allits celebration of honest everyday cooking.

Alice Waters

There are many ways to bring people together, but food is one of the most powerful. And for us at Frannys, that means pizza.

Opening a pizza restaurant wasnt always the plan. Creating a restaurant, specifically an Italian restaurant, yesthat we both knew we wanted almost from the moment we laid eyes on each other. The pizza part, however, came later.

Andrew and I met in early 2000. I had just gotten my very first bartending job, at Savoy, the groundbreaking locavore restaurant in SoHo. I kept my head down, focused on learning how to make a proper martini. Meanwhile, Andrew, a recent culinary school grad, was busy cleaning radishes and slicing garlic just a few feet away in the kitchen. I was dimly aware of him rushing past the bar several times a night on his way to the fireplace where he roasted meats and veggies. That went on for months, until one night, we both looked up. I dont know if it was love at first sight, but we noticed each other in a big way.

Right from that first glance, we bonded over foodAndrew cooking for me, gathering friends around it, exploring different flavors and dishes. Before I started at Savoy, I worked in the nonprofit sector of environmental advocacy and sustainable agriculture. That was a perfect fit with Andrews cooking ethos, centered on the rich flavors of seasonal local ingredients. The culture of food, and every step of the journey from farm to table, was a vital part of our connection from the start.

So when Andrew told me he wanted to open his own restaurant, something clicked for me too. The idea of uniting around Andrews cooking thrilled me, and besides, I knew that if I was going to be in a relationship with a chef, the only way Id ever get to see him was if we worked together.

Andrew had loved Italian food ever since he was a kid growing up on Long Island. He said it was the only thing he could imagine cooking every day for the rest of his life. We daydreamed together about our perfect Italian restaurant and realized we had the passion and drive needed to make it happen, except for one crucial thing: neither of us had ever been to Italy.

It was March. Wed been datingand dreaming about our restaurantsince October. It was time to get serious on both fronts. So we eloped to Italy.

We flew into Rome and got married on the Amalfi Coast. And we ate everywhere, seeking out street food and homestyle cooking whenever we could. We had some amazing high-end meals, but it was the rustic food, prepared in traditional, classic ways, that would eventually become the cornerstone of the menu at Frannys.

When we came back to New York, we settled in Brooklyn and started looking for spaces in Prospect Heights. What we wanted was our own little place that would become a part of the fabric of the neighborhood, somewhere the whole community would want to eat. And not just for special occasions, but over and over again.

Thats when my brother-in-law suggested the obvious: pizza. Of course, he was right. Pizza is delicious, its Italian, pretty much everyone loves it, and it would appeal to a neighborhood in flux. There were new families moving into brownstones, searching for more space; creative young folks spilling over from downtown Manhattan; and a vital, diverse group of residents who had been there for generations. Pizza would feed them all.