I can vividly remember driving with my father to Wooster Street every Wednesday so he could buy bread at Sarno’s Bakery, which was located at the end of an alley directly across the street from Pepe’s. They had a restaurant on Wooster Street, but for the life of me, I can’t remember the name. Could it have been Sarno’s? The aroma from the breads and pizzas wafting from those brick ovens was incredible. Even now, after all these years, if I concentrate very hard, I can recall that wonderful fragrance. I remember being fascinated watching the old Italian ladies making fresh fusilli rolling out yards of dough “snakes” and then spinning them around wires to form the distinctive shape, faster than any machine could ever hope to produce!

A few doors down on the same side of the street as Sarno’s was a little Italian grocery store we called Mrs. Eppolito’s Market. I don’t know if that was the name of the place or not. Old Mrs. Eppolito would always appear happy when we stopped by and would give us something; usually a slice of Genoa salami. I loved watching her make sweet Italian sausage, slipping the skins over the end of the sausage maker and tamping down the contents with a big wooden pestle-sort of thing. I wonder how many mile of that she made in her lifetime?

Someone upthread mentioned the Royal Palm. I don’t recall them serving food except for pickled eggs which were in a jar on the bar. The only reason I went there was they would serve beer to minors. That was probably more of a priority to us at the time than food. The windows of the place were really dirty and there was a dead palm tree standing there….poor thing.

My husband is a Brit and I would love to take him back to my “home.” Yale and Cambridge are identical…had to have been designed by the same architects. Ken doesn’t really get into Italian food. I think it’s the result of a genetic condition which most Brits suffer from….lack of taste buds. He might like the clams, though.

Thanks for letting me run on………………….

My father used to take me to the spot and I loved watching them make the pies right there in front of you. But Billy and the boys (and his dad when he was alive, God rest his soul) make the best pizza in the country!

I miss feeling the burnt spot on the roof of my mouth.

Thank You

Chinese Restaurant Dublin