Franny’s Finally

I’d wanted to go to Franny’s since it opened a few years ago. The lure of crusty, oozy, ooey, gooey pizza is not one that I can often resist and Franny’s was not supposed to be so forever situated on the restaurants-I-want-to-try queue; however, circumstance after circumstance never allowed me to make it to this mecca.

First it was the Brooklyn thing…but then I moved to Brooklyn. Then, a few times I tried to go but they were closed. Then I tried to go when they were opened but the line was too long and we were too hungry.

Finally, last night, some great spirit brought my uncle and me together at Franny’s. He was the one who had originally mentioned it to me when they opened. And last night, when, on the spur of the moment, I decided to call him, I had no idea that he would be up to come to Brooklyn. I had no idea that I would be up to make the pilgrimage (after all, said restaurant is in South Brooklyn and I live in North). But there we were, hugging each other on Flatbush Avenue on a Monday night, ravenous for pizza. After an hour wait—during which we sat at the bar eating stewed zucchini followed by swings of Six Point Sweet Action—we were led to the garden. Only six tables are situated out back—a total anomaly for a Manhattan restaurant (so much wasted space!!) but par for the course in Brooklyn.

We decided to go for one salad, one pizza, and one pasta; this being the maiden voyage. Escarole doused in a hefty portion of shredded Parmiggiano Reggiano with intense notes of citrus arrived first to whet our appetites for the main events.

Next came the pasta—unfathomably delicious penne pasta with zucchini and mint and light cheese—and the pizza. The pizza was a single serve, but we chose to split it, since we’d had several rounds of appetizers during the wait and also had pasta. I was glad we’d made this decision because I know that I would have continued to plow through as much food as was put in front of me. Our pizza—tomatoes, olives, garlic, and oregano—was fantastic. Everything you read is true.

And then some. We squeezed in a chocolate sorbet for dessert, which we liked almost as much as the pizza and pasta! Save the wait, this was a perfect Monday night meal—one I’d been anticipating for ages.