Mother Wolf

Evan Funke's love letter to Roman trattoria cooking, dialed up to Hollywood volume with hand-cut pasta and a room full of people who dressed for it.

The pasta is laminated and cut in a glass-walled room you pass on the way to your table, so you already know what you're in for before the cacio e pepe arrives glossy and peppered within an inch of its life. It's loud, it's lit like a supper club, and the amatriciana still tastes like someone's Roman grandmother would nod in approval. Come hungry, come dressed up, and don't rush the tiramisu.

Best for: Date night or a big-deal celebration where you want Rome without the flight