The Name's The Same

Last night the Mrs. and I had dinner in the North End, at Piccola Venezia on Hanover Street. It had been quite some time since we'd last been there, possibly more than a decade. I had bought a Groupon for the place earlier this year and it was nearing expiration, so off we went. We enjoyed our meal, and had plenty left on our plates to bring home, so it's definitely a good value.

One of the interesting things about living in one place for a long time is the perspective you gain from your relationship to it. It's impossible for me to go to Piccola Venezia without thinking about how I first experienced it some 25 years ago, when it was in a much smaller space over on Salem Street. Back then the entrees generally were priced under $10, and a comparably inexpensive plastic pitcher of potent red wine would be served in the traditional (for Italian-Americans) "juice glasses."

After I'd been there a few times, I recall being told by a coworker that there were certain dishes that weren't officially on the menu, but could be had if you knew to ask for them. The whole experience of going to this place somewhat regularly, of being recognized and greeted by the staff when I returned, and of knowing I could order "off the menu" made me feel like an in-the-know Boston insider; there were just as many tourists wandering the streets of the North End back then, but it seemed they would be more likely to choose other restaurants.

Times change, and I'm sure it was a good business move for the restaurant's owners to move to a larger space in a more visible location, but it did mean losing some of what made the original incarnation intimate and special. I'm glad I was around to experience it.