Try to imagine a time when NYC had no restaurants, only eating houses and taverns.  Then time travel back to 1827, when John and Peter Delmonico, two Swiss brothers, the first a former sea captain, the second a pastry-shop manager, opened up a small, six-table coffee-and-pastry shop called Delmonico’s on William Street.  After four years it had become a full-fledged restaurant with white tablecloths, a French chef, female cashier, revolving doors and a number of then-exotic dishes that included salad and green vegetables served in the French manner--this at a time when the local merchants ate outdoors or grabbed what they could at a tavern or eating house. 

         Delmonico’s was, then, the beacon of good taste and lavish meals, a standard for fine dining that had never existed before, and the brothers’ success begat ten more restaurants under their family name, each one more grandiose than the last, usually run by a relative imported for the purpose of maintaining tradition.

        Everyone of importance went to Delmonico’s: Theodore Roosevelt, Mark Twain, Diamond Jim Brady, Lillian Russell, Charles Dickens, Oscar Wilde,  J.P. Morgan, Prince Edward VII of Wales and Napoleon III of France. It was the first restaurant to allow women to dine together with men, and it was from a room in Delmonico’s that Samuel F. B. Morse sent the first cablegram across the Atlantic from its 14th Street location.

        The menu evolved into several pages, with nearly thirty poultry dishes, eleven beef dishes and sixteen pastries listed, and the restaurant’s French cooking set the mold for American deluxe dining rooms that has been maintained ever since.  The Delmonico steak and Delmonico potatoes, eggs Benedict and lobster Newburg were created there, and an early version of Baked Alaska debuted in its dining rooms.  Last year Delmonico’s was honored in the superb food history Ten Restaurants That Changed America by Paul Freedman.

        Sadly, the onset of Prohibition forced the closure of Delmonico’s—no one wanted to dine like that without wine and whiskey—but it re-opened in 1927 on Beaver Street, closed again, and re-opened with successive owners—but only three in all its history.  Today it is owned and operated by the Turcinovic family, who suffered through not only the near collapse of the neighborhood on 9/11—they lost a huge percentage of their wine cellar and had to completely restore the dining rooms—but also the economic crash of 2008.

        Today, however, with Dennis Turcinovic in constant overview and Chef Billy Oliva in the kitchen, Delmonico’s shines as brightly as it did in the 19th century, its clientele a mix of beefy, loud Wall Streeters, the new locals who have moved to the area, and tourists from all over the world who bask in a style of décor and dining comparable only to that of Keen’s Chop House, which opened in 1885.

    When you enter Delmonico’s through a portal with marble columns brought from Palermo, a wide, deep dining room opens up, with murals of noted celebrities who once dined there, broad tables with heavy linens, a marble fireplace, wrought iron staircase leading to private rooms, and golden lighting from above.  Your greeting will be genuine from everyone—Dennis Turcinovic will undoubtedly come by—and immediately a waitress will welcome you and hand you menus and the wine list.  Ours, a Croatian woman named Marina, didn’t flinch in answering any question, historic or culinary, I could ask, and our wine bottle was at our table within three minutes.

    Having not dined at Delmonico’s in several years, I was very glad to see it vibrant with business and looking as if it had been opened that very day.  The festive atmosphere is ever present, any day of the year, and I can only imagine the room’s beauty at Christmastime.

    My party of four focused on Delmonico’s signature dishes, not least the crisp iceberg wedge salad with very good Bayley Hazen blue cheese dressing, pickled onion and crumbled bacon.  A tower of shellfish ($60 or $120), with three dipping sauces, was picked clean, and tuna tartare was very nicely seasoned and came with a rice puff and sriacha aïoli ($22).  The house-cured bacon ($29) will feed four (right) handily.

    As for the Delmonico steak (below), its original cut and configuration--a primal short loin--has changed over years and lost its meaning , so we opted for a 24-ounce 45-day dry aged bone-in ribeye ($65) of very fine flavor and texture (though, frankly, I’ve yet to taste any distinct effect on a good piece of beef after 28 days, and there’s that option at $58). Colorado lamb chops ($49)—four gargantuan ribs—were impeccably trimmed and came atop wilted seasoned  spinach. 

        I usually prefer my lobsters unsullied, but lobster Newburg (MP)—actually named after a regular patron named Wenberg who displeased the Delmonicos, who thereupon changed the name—is one of those sumptuous 19th century-style dishes, like lobster Thermidor.  When prepared with care so as not to overcook the three-pound lobster’s meat in the body and claws, it is  always impressive. Its blend of cream, sherry, cayenne and tarragon (below) is exactly the kind of trencherman fare gargantuans like Diamond Jim Brady lapped up at Delmonico’s.

        So it was to be expected that a dish of crispy red snapper with coconut green curry, forbidden rice and shaved vegetables ($38) would pale by comparison.  Do go for the onion rings with buttermilk blue dressing (a hefty $19!), the Brussels sprouts ($12) and the béchamel cream-rich Delmonico potatoes ($13).

    Attention must be paid to the desserts at Delmonico’s. The baked Alaska ($13) set on a walnut cake, with apricot jam, banana gelato and browned meringue (below), created in 1867 after the purchase of Alaska by the U.S., used to be flamed at the table, but the NYC Fire Department did not take kindly to that traditional display. The cheesecake with a sesame tuile, mango-passionfruit coulis and macadamia-pine nut crust ($12) and the chocolate raspberry fondant with dark chocolate ganache and raspberry ice cream ($12) are less dramatic but delicious.  Six artisanal cheeses are also offered (at $30).

    Delmonico’s wine list—severely diminished during the 9/11 disaster that affected so much of the neighborhood—is back up to world class ranking, 28 tightly packed pages with marginal notes on various kinds of wines. All the California cult wines are here, as well as two dozen prestige cuvée-quality Champagnes.  There aren’t a lot of bottles under $70 and mark-ups vary, not as high as some elsewhere but certainly pricey.  A store-bought Cakebread Cellars Chardonnay 2013 at $40, is here $105; a $120 Heitz Cellars Martha’s Vineyard 2009 will set you back $525 at Delmonico’s.

    This fall Delmonico’s will celebrate its 180th birthday, with a few time-outs along the way that suggested such a wondrous place could not possibly survive into the 21st century. Of course, the NYC food media seems to believe it must have gone under decades ago. But when all the 20-seat Asian noodle eateries in Soho and the Nordic follies n Tribeca disappear month by month, Delmonico’s doors will still open way at the foot of Manhattan, where it all began, onto something not just rare but as exciting as it ever was.

    If Cincinnato and Marco Carpineti, of which I wrote in my last article,  represent Roman vintners moving forward by looking to the past, Casale Del Giglio is a winery of a much more modern stripe. Located on the slopes and plains and some former marshland some 30 miles south of Rome, the vineyard utilizes its 445 acres of vines to make an assortment of varietals that stretch the boundaries of what Italian wines can be.

    Along with wine journalist Charles Scicolone, my wife and I toured the winery with winemaker Paolo Tiefenthaler, who explained that the area, being located on sandy soil in the Agro Potino valley near Anzio, did not have much of a wine-making tradition before they started cultivating it back in the 1990s. Tiefenthaler told us through an interpreter that they saw this unexplored territory as being perfect for viticultural experimentation, having a temperate maritime climate similar to those found in Australia, California and Bordeaux. As a result, and with the full blessing of the European Union, over sixty different varietals were planted to see what grew and tasted best. With such a broad canvas to work from, Tiefenthaler arrived at a stunning assortment of wines—fifteen in all—that aim to bridge the gap between classic and international tastes, as well as solidifying the area as a microclimate to be taken seriously.

     One very un-Italian thing about Casale Del Giglio's wines are the labels. In a nod towards the international market—and in breaking with the traditional Italian wine labels whose motto has always been "obscurity and confusion over clarity and information"—his bottles identify the maker, the grape (if it's not a blend) and the location of the vineyard. Most of the wines are classified as IGT (Indicazione Geografica Tipica), which allots more freedom to winemakers to use different grapes and blends than the more restrictive DOCG and DOC denominations.

        Tiefenthaler takes that freedom and runs with it. His chardonnay uses no oak and goes through no malolactic fermentation. The result is a full-bodied, crisp wine that is a pure expression of the grape. It was one of many non-traditional wines I tasted that caused me to sit up and take notice. Just as pleasantly surprising was the Albiola Rosato,  a rosé of Syrah and Sangiovese grapes, that was surprisingly rich for a wine so pink. Its strong acidity and raspberry/strawberry aromas make it a perfect wine for sipping all summer long.

    On the more traditional front, Casale Del Giglio weighs in with a big, spicy, tannic, vaguely herbaceous Cesanese that Elise Rialland,  our winery guide for the day, said goes perfectly with a spezzatino di bufaletta dell'agro pontino (water buffalo stew). Absent any water buffalo in your neighborhood, a beef stew would match splendidly as well.

    Of the other red wines we tasted, the huge, sweetly tannic Tempranijo was a monster that needs taming by food or aging, and the 100% Cabernet Sauvignon showed promise as well, although, like many of the reds, it seemed quite young, very fruit-forward and a bit rough around the edges. Still, when you consider that these wines retail for well under $20 a bottle, you're getting quite a mouthful for the price.

    Two wines that need no qualifiers are the Bellone and Mater Matuta. The Bellone is yet another worthwhile way to break the bonds of your chardonnay, sauvignon blanc, or pinot grigio habit, being a complex and subtle blend of ripe tropical fruit beneath a nicely floral nose. What sets it apart from your run-of-the-mill $15 white wines is the strong acidity and a bracing finish that tastes like a sea breeze smells. I can't think of a better wine to accompany a fish stew or raw seafood platter.

    If the Bellone is an ode to the ancient varietals of Lazio, the Mater Matuta represents a leap into the 21st Century. Elegant and powerful, this flagship wine is a blend of 85% Syrah and 15% Petit Verdot, and displays a deep, dense, ruby red color, and complex aromas of black cherry, coffee and about half a spice rack. The tannins are finely integrated and the finish lasts for days. In all, quite a bottle for $50, and quite a landmark for an area that had no idea it could make such a splash with grapes that had never before spoken Italian.

    Old school or new, Roman wines have broken the shackles of cheap white wine that defined its viticulture for so long. Tasting the full panoply of Casale Del Giglio wines (including a wonderful late harvest wine called Aphrodisium) taught me that no longer will I look past the "Lazio" designation when I see it in a wine store or on a list. These are very attractive wines at very attractive prices, and all of them are made to match with Roman food, one of the world's great cuisines.

A FEW WORDS ABOUT ROMAN RESTAURANTS. . . .

"To a Roman, wine is just another form of food," Charles Scicolone reminded me several times as we tasted our way around Rome for a week. What he also impressed upon me was that Romans, who are very serious about their cuisine,  look upon wine as an integral part of any meal. Still, being Romans, they don't exactly stress out over it. You'll never find a Roman dissecting the fine points of a food and wine match. Certain fundamental rules are followed: lighter wines with fish, heavier ones with meat, but after that, it is all about enjoying them simultaneously. Here are a few restaurants and wine bars where you can maximize your enjoyment of both in the Eternal City.

Il Sanlorenzo--4/5, Via dei Chiavari; 39 06 68 65 097.  Despite being 45 minutes from the ocean, Rome has never been much of a seafood town, until now. This elegant, seafood-centric place, a block off of the Corso Vittorio Emanuele II, proudly displays the daily catch at the front bar, offers six kinds of Le Acque (mineral water), artisanal breads and a stunning selection of raw seafood. It's 85€ tasting menu is quite the bargain, and the modernist carpaccio of red shrimps is just as satisfying as the artful twist on linguine con vongole.

Flavio al Velavevodetto --97, Via di Monte Testaccio; 39 06 574 4194. The trouble with traveling to Rome, as with New York, Paris, and Tokyo, is I'm always torn between classic places to which I can't wait to return  and wanting to try out newer joints that everyone is raving about.  I find that Rome doesn't follow food trends as much as the rest of the world, so it's easier to ignore whatever some travel magazine is writing about this month. Flavio Al Velavevodetto has been around forever, and isn't on anyone's thrill list, but the

food is Roman to the core. A wall of wines greets you as you enter (and doubles as the wine list) and the menu couldn't be simpler. The rigatoni con la pajata (with veal intestines) and coda alla vaccinara (braised oxtail) also could not be any better. "Velavevodetto" means something like a Roman "I told you so," and after two bites of your meal, you will have to admit that I told you so.

Checchino dal 1887 --30, Via di Monte Testaccio; 39 06 574 3816. Right around the corner from Flavio al Velavevodetto is this venerable establishment, which is just as comfortable and just as good. Specializing in the "fifth quarter" of the animal, the menu is a testament to how Romans were into offal long before it became fashionable. Wonderful wine list as well (left).

Dal Bolognese --1, Piazza del Popolo; 39 06 361 1426. I never go to Rome without taking at least one meal here. Directly off the Piazza del Popolo, it is a fashionable haunt of power lunchers and well-healed shoppers. The thing to get is the bollito misto with mostarda and salsa verde. There might be other good things to eat on the menu, but this meat platter with mustard fruits is so spectacular I can't even think of ordering anything else. Except the fritto misto (fried seafood); it's out-of-this-world too.

Al Moro --13, Vicolo Bollette; 39 06 678 3495. There is an old saying about Roman restaurants, that the worse the art is on the walls, the better the food. Al Moro's walls (right) won't win any awards, but the fegato (calf’s liver with agrodolce onions) ought to be enshrined somewhere. You won't find better culatello ham or  buffalo mozzarella anywhere else around the Trevi Fountain, either. Go early for lunch to see how the smart business set enjoys its midday repast.

. . . A FEW MORE WORDS ABOUT ROMAN WINE BARS

    Roman ristoranti are far less formal affairs than their Parisian counterparts. Still, you're expected to order two or three courses in them, and they are not the place to pick up a light bite. For that you have pizzerias and espresso bars everywhere (of variable quality), but for my money, wine bars are the way to go if you want a simple snack or plate of pasta without a lot of fuss after dark. The bonus is, of course, they also have incredible wine selections, some real bargains by the glass or carafe, and no one frowns at you if you just want a small plate of some incredible artichoke ravioli with a Gravner Breg like we had L'Angolo Divino. The other bonus is these spots are all within a short walk of each other in the Centro Storico.

Il Goccetto (left) --14, Via dei Banchi Vecchi; 39 06 686 4268. Very popular with the young crowd. Doubles as a wine store. Nice antipasti display counter as you enter. Go early or late and go with a thirst.

Enoteca Cul de Sac --13, Vicolo Bollette; 39 06 678 3495. An old favorite off the Piazza Navona. Friendly welcome. Outdoor seating.  Rome's first proper wine bar (since 1977) is still one of the best, with food a lot better than you expect it to be.

L'Angolo Divino --Via del Balestrari; 06 68 64 413. A cozy spot right off the Camp de' Fiori, the modest entrance gives you not a clue as to the beauty of the food and the wine selection. An incredible list with a very helpful staff.