At night, it’s a hell of a street, Avenue B. It’s swarmed with bridge-and-tunnel folk, Hummer limos, bar fighting frat brothers and a mostly bemused NYPD who try in vain to keep the noise down. The lounges with no names and no weeknight customers sprout velvet ropes, burly doormen and long lines of revelers fresh off of New Jersey Transit come Friday. Fighting through this mess for good Italian food may not seem to make the most sense, but Max, pretty much right in the soft, fleshy middle of this weekend beast, rewards the brave and the foolish alike.
This cozy joint with a tiny awning serves food that is cheekily categorized as “Rigatoni my Father’s style” ($10.95) or “Homemade lasagna, Mom’s style” ($10.95). Max is pitch perfect on this, as the descriptions match the homey, tasty type grub everyone’s imaginary Italian parents made them during their childhood. Here, fresh ingredients, the miracle of a convection oven and a crack kitchen staff do all the work, allowing for that Italian kitchen table conversation to take place in Max’s kitschy dining room, underneath blackboards that scream the words “cash only” and the day’s specials.
And the specials, to borrow a shopworn phrase, are all pretty special. But perhaps the best of them is the Ossobucco di Mamma Bora (“my mother-in-law’s style,” $16.95), the classic veal shank with marrow dish that has become, by virtue of basic cable advertising and the catchy name, the gold standard for Italian joints citywide. But Max only joins the competition on Thursdays, the one day the dish is served. The reason? Between prepping the shanks, braising them, making the garnishes and letting the whole thing simmer for the proper number of hours, it’s an all-day process, and to have enough of it ready for the evening means starting first thing in the morning. Now there are shortcuts, shortcuts that create a dish with perhaps 80 percent of the charm of the real thing. But whatever we know about the other places, we know Max does not take shortcuts—even serving the veal over a hearty vegetable risotto that could stand as its own entrée in other restaurants.
The wine list at Max is reasonable, and has interesting reds that will impress dates and give you something to go with your meal other than that Chianti wrapped in straw. We live in a time where any wine goes with any meal, but it’s a good idea here to plan your courses around the strength or subtlety of your alcohol selection. If you’re not sure what that means, you can try asking. But be warned, the service can have a fascistic feel to it. Still, on some nights, usually the quieter ones, the waiters are friendly and full of recommendations.
As part of a mini empire that includes Frank, the wine bar In Vino, and another Max in Tribeca, it’s reassuring to see that this Max has some individuality, but only because somehow—whether it be due to the hostess, the servers or the clientele—it at first feels like “hipster Italian” in the worst possible way. But the back patio is a respite from the crowded dining room and mini East Village dramedy that plays out in its patron’s conversations each night. Though, when noisily munching on my delicate fennel salad ($6.95) and spaghetti with lamb ragu ($10.95) out there, I can’t help but feel awful for the tenants whose windows encircle this rectangle of open-roofed dining. The passel of café umbrellas hardly keeps the noise from filtering up to their ears.
Then again, the denizens here are probably either already mortified by the local hookah bars and high-flying nightclub action, or else they’re downstairs and outside, taking part in it. The other restaurants on the block, so tame as to be invisible in daylight, seem to be willing to transmogrify themselves into anything that will justify serving $9 beers come evening. Max, a local pioneer on the verge of becoming an institution, has barely even changed its menu since it opened on a block that really used to be, for a brief time between crack addicts and club kids, just another quiet street in New York.
Max
51 Avenue B (betw. 3rd & 4th Sts.)
212-539-0111
