ON A RECENT Friday night on Second Avenue, I watched as young people strolled by, couples came tumbling out of bars and the well dressed and nightclub-bound were hopping into cabs. This wouldn’t be surprising, of course, except that I was between E. 77th and E. 78th streets—miles from anywhere that I would expect to see people who looked like they knew how to have fun.

 

I was taking a break for a cigarette outside of Uva, the four-year-old wine bar on the block, and was a bit shocked by the life in what I have long considered the hinterlands of excitement. I turned to my dinner date, an East Village native, and said, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think this was Second Avenue between Seventh and Eighth streets.” He smiled, nodded his head and crushed his butt into the pavement.

Back inside, the scene was no more “uptown.”The dimly lit eatery—owned by cousins Massimo and Patricia Lusardi of the famed restaurant-owning family—was crowded with chirping fembots on a girls night out, some pretty decent-looking first dates and—it had to happen—even some regular old people (well, regular for the Upper East Side) who, at around 8 o’clock, were packed in, even with a front and back patio and basement-level private dining room.

Our table was out back and we had made it through a basket of focaccia and generous plates of proscuitto with buffalo mozzarella ($13) before sneaking out for a sin stick. Back at the table, we were met with our entrees: “Coste Di Manzo Brasate,” a plate of delicious and tender braised short ribs paired with a rosemary potato cake ($19), and “Strozzapreti Integrali,” a house-made whole wheat pasta with tomato sauce, cheese and pesto ($17) that my companion had—and enjoyed!— despite the presence on the menu of much creamier and more decadent options. Not pleased with his sudden disinterest in eating like he might die tomorrow, I ordered a plate of the night’s special gnocci, made with squid ink and fontina cheese for us to split.The pasta was remarkably light, but baked with cheese and spices, the dish made a serious case for unbuttoning one’s jeans. Not one to be stymied by a littlelactose overdose, I picked at the plate until the stares of disgust coming my way were no longer discreet.Then we ordered dessert. The “Thousand-Layer Cake” ($8) is only available on weekends, and that’s a shame for anyone who misses out. Made up of layers of thin crêpes separated by a sweet custard, the cake was light but satisfying, giving my sweet tooth what it was after without putting too much extra strain on my gut.

Leaving Uva, now at about 10, I found a line of people milling around on the sidewalk. Perhaps they were in the market for the restaurant’s late-night weekend menu of pizzas and snacks or were just looking for a place to have a glass of wine—the restaurant has a list of over 200 by the bottle and 40 by the glass—but again I was struck by the notion that I could have been at Frank or Cacio e Vino. It’s not too often that I venture uptown, but with a crowd like the one at Uva, that could start to change—at least once in a while.

>Uva Wine Bar

1482 2nd Ave. (betw. E. 77th & E. 78th Sts.), 212-472-4552