When you think of old-style Italian-American restaurants does red sauce spring to mind? Red check wax table cloths, family-style servings, a free salad with your entree, rotund red-faced guys with their sleeves rolled-up, going “ey!” and slapping each other on the back? Sure, it’s a cliché, but it’s also close to the truth in a lot of places, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. I, for one, love a classic east coast red sauce and meatballs joint, but it’s not the complete picture.

Ferdinando’s Focacceria on Union Street in Brooklyn’s Carroll Gardens neighborhood has been in business as long as any in New York City. In 1910, in the heart of what was then a burgeoning Italian community, it opened its doors principally to cater for expatriate paesani working at the nearby Brooklyn docks, and it’s been serving the neighborhood faithfully ever since. However, unlike many of the other Italian eateries in the area, Fernandino’s does not serve everything with lashings of tomato gravy (not that they don’t offer red sauce – try it with their tripe), instead, they serve their original regional Sicilian dishes as if they don’t care or aren’t aware that long-established Italian restaurants are supposed to top everything with a meatball. They are most famous for their panelle and vastedda (chick pea fritters and veal spleen sandwiches, respectively), which they didn’t just decide to start selling since David Chang and Michael Symon announced it was cool for Brooklyn hipsters to eat offal.

That Ferdinando’s and many other original Italian businesses are still in operation in Carroll Gardens speaks to the fact that descendants of the neighborhood’s original communities remain where their forefathers first landed, in sight of Ellis Island across New York harbor. Not that simply by merit they don’t deserve to be in business, but that health-ninnies and changing dietary proclivities have discouraged most people from looking kindly upon rolls filled with deep fried chickpea dough or boiled calf-innards.

Our recent visit was the culmination of several years of anticipation and a pleasant relief after a terrible, screamy morning with our 5-month old. It was planned as our first lunch out with the baby, and we arrived flustered and desperate that he would nap long enough to allow us to get through a meal in peace. Finding ourselves a table at the rear, as distant as possible from the other patrons, we settled ourselves in and admired the time-worn decor of sepia-tint photos of the old country, a thickly over-painted tin ceiling and some attractive stained glass. The baby sparked awake shortly after we’d ordered our wine, but to our amazement, he emerged from his car-seat cheerful, quiet and relaxed. Maybe he is as susceptible as we are to a relaxing restaurant atmosphere? Whatever the reason, cue a great lunch.

Owner Francesco Buffa’s food is unrepentantly rustic and from the mismatched plates to the friendly but slightly gruff service, it is a truly authentic experience of old Brooklyn that is increasingly hard to find. Starting with a cold octopus and celery salad and a plate of garlicky broccoli di rape with a basket of crisp Italian bread from Mazzola bakery two blocks up, before proceeding with a panelle and mozzarella sandwich and a vastedda special (with the most unctuous ricotta), our happiness reigned for nearly two hours. In fact, so becalmed were we and Paolo, that we had dessert and espresso as the wait staff cooed around the baby.

Buddhists say that expectations are the root of all suffering, but even if we’d had the greatest morning of our lives instead of one of the most grueling, Ferdinando’s would still have been special. We will be heading back again soon to try their famous pasta con le sarde (with sardines, raisins and pine nuts) and rice balls stuffed with house-made ragu and peas. Whether Paolo will cooperate remains to be seen, but the food is so good that it’s worth the risk.

These days, it seems something is always the new something else. You know, Thursday’s the new Friday, brown’s the new black, Palin’s the new devil, Obama’s the new Messiah, etc. But to me, for example, comparing the pain and anguish at dragging myself from bed on a Friday morning after a few drinks the night before, to how relaxed and comfy I am sleeping late on a Saturday after the same number of drinks, makes at least some these kind of comparisons not only facile but downright misleading.The simple fact is that everything that’s around today is not somehow a better, newer and shinier version of something that came before. It’s just not true. There are, however, exceptions to this rule: computers are better than they ever have been, and I think, the same can be said of socks. Socks with lycra in them are so much better than those ridiculous, loose bags of yesteryear that never failed to cause blisters, and somehow managed to work their way down your legs and almost off your feet even as you walked around in shoes.

There are some things though, that have always been good, always been recognized as good, even if only by a few, and whose quality has been continuously improved throughout the years in line with improvements in technology and ingredients. Amongst these is the very delectable French aperitif wine, Lillet.

A Long of History
In 1872, the brothers Paul and Raymond Lillet founded their Compagny des Freres Lillet, and though they didn’t sell their first bottle of “Lillet – aperitif de Bordeaux” until 15 years later, it has been flying off the shelves world-wide ever since. The Deuxieme Empire (2nd Empire, 1852-1870) was a great boom time for France both as an importer and exporter of goods, and it was during this period that Bordeaux first led the world in the wine trade. Not only were the techniques of production and bottling of quality wines being revolutionized, but local vintners began blending these wines with a wide variety of exotic spices and other ingredients arriving from the French West Indies, Brazil and West Africa to make all kinds of tonics, liqueurs and aperitifs that quickly became vogue in French cafes.Made from 85% white Bordeaux and 15% fruit liqueurs juices (sweet & bitter oranges) and quinine, Lillet originally had something of a bitter flavor to it and was promoted under the name “Kina Lillet” as a tonic - kina, or kina kina (or chinchona) is a tree native to Peru and quinine is derived from its bark – with the tagline: “…a potent tonic. It can be consumed, for their utmost benefit, by those with a fragile constitution whatever their age.” Indeed, a double-strength quinine version was sold in the French West Indies and United States for a time and drunk by malaria sufferers.

Popularity Through Advertising, James Bond and Quinine
However, Lillet was really advertised until the turn of the century when it really took off in Paris. To this day, there is a considerable trade in the beautiful Art Deco advertising memorabilia produced at this time with venerable Lillet-branded pencils, fans, postcards, thermometers and posters all still changing hands among collectors. Then, as with pastis, the prohibition of absinthe in 1915 helped increase the popularity of Lillet throughout France, but it only really began to gain an international reputation in the interwar period when English drinkers found that when mixed with gin, in place of dry vermouth, it produced a rather toothsome martini.

In fact, though it was subsequently superceded by the rather more prosaic vodka martini (shaken, not stirred), the Kina Lillet martini, as those of you who’ve watched the recent movies Casino Royale and Quantum of Solace will know, was James Bond’s drink of choice. Three parts of Gordon’s gin, one part vodka, and 1/2 measure of Lillet, shaken vigorously with crushed ice and served in a champagne flute with lemon peel, which Bond names “the Vesper” after his love interest at the time.

And, while Bond may have cornered the market in refined style, Lillet blanc (as opposed to Lillet rouge, a sweeter red version, created in 1962) can be enjoyed in different many ways. Straight up over ice with a slice of orange or twist of lemon is very typical and refreshing, but a number of famous cocktails including the zebra square and Edith’s fizz also showcase Lillet’s talents as a mixer. It’s worthwhile noting that during the 1990s Lillet changed its recipe, and in 1997, after 110 years of following the same ratio of ingredients, the amount of quinine was reduced, and almost overnight, it became the number one drink in Parisian restaurant chain L’Ecluse with 12,000 drinks served that year. Anyone who has drunk neat tonic water can figure out why its popularity suddenly exploded.

With the bitter aftertaste reduced the aromas of candied orange, honey and apple come through on the drinker’s palate like never before, and it’s probably no coincidence that even the rugged James Bond has returned to Lillet martinis now they are a little less astringent. But don’t give in to flashy modern advertising and let some buff dude in a tux convince you to try Lillet, engage your thoughts in the drink’s fascinating history, intriguing flavor profile and retro-bottle design, and you’ll quickly see that la plus ca change, la plus reste la meme.

Indeed, is even equating the blue haze of cigarette smoke in a tiled and mirrored cafe with French-ness anything more than just a cheesy cliche?

While we examine the state of our national stereotyping and the extent of our nostalgia, let us know what you think.

For another reflective look at French health-consciousness, click here.