In 1907, Gus Gargiulo, an immigrant from Sorrento, Italy, set up his namesake restaurant in a storefront on Brooklyn’s Mermaid Avenue, a stone’s throw from the Atlantic Ocean in Coney Island. Dreamland and Luna Park, two of the area’s early amusement parks, had opened a few years earlier, thrilling visitors with dazzling electric light exhibitions, exotic animals and death-defying rides. Little remains of the Coney Island of those days, aside from notable relics like the 105-year-old Wonder Wheel and the 98-year-old Cyclone, which still makes kids shriek with its terrifying dips and curves. Gargiulo’s too has survived and even flourished.
By the mid-1920s, the restaurant had moved to its current and much grander venue on 15th Street, which Louis Gargiulo, Gus’s son, designed, modeling it after the Mediterranean-style buildings he’d seen on his honeymoon in Florida. Many members of the Gargiulo clan worked there. Neighbors would come to celebrate anniversaries or christenings. Some say it was a popular hangout for mobsters and politicians. By the 1960s, though, Coney Island was in the dumps. Developers tore down many of the old buildings. But there were still true believers, and in 1965, the Gargiulos sold the business to another Brooklyn family, the Russos, who also had roots in Sorrento.
Over the years, the Russos added a catering hall and private rooms for wedding receptions and other parties but they kept the main dining room, which can seat 125, much the same as it had been. During the day, sunlight pours in through the huge arched windows. Tables are set with spiffy linens; waiters wear tuxedos. The Russos also kept the tradition of serving classic southern Italian fare. In 1977, Mimi Sheraton, then the New York Times’s restaurant critic, gave Gargiulo’s three stars. The review stunned the food establishment, which figured important food had to be French. A framed copy of the article still hangs outside the restaurant manager’s office.
I never went to Gargiulo’s as a kid, but it still reminds me of my childhood, when we’d visit my father’s family in “Old Brooklyn,” where everyone was furious over the 1958 departure of Brooklyn Dodgers (the fury still lingers), and Sundays in Coney Island were a thrilling prospect. On special occasions, everyone ate Italian. These days, I’m partial to Gargiulo’s baked clams, which are like fat, gilded jewels, and its spinach fettuccine — silky green noodles in a creamy sauce of chicken, prosciutto, onions and mushrooms. The pasta dishes might feature white clam sauce or Bolognese or marinara. Giant veal and pork chops and the beef braciola come with potato croquettes and ciambotta, a vegetable stew. There’s also tortoni, a dessert I adored as a child and that isn’t easy to find. The sugar and egg mix, frozen into a sort of custard, always came in a pleated paper cup with a cherry on top. Gargiulo’s serves this, plus a deconstructed version in a glass bowl, steeped in espresso to make a sensational affogato.
On a Thursday afternoon a few weeks ago, I joined the Russos for lunch. Five siblings, who inherited the restaurant from their father and uncles and now run it, along with Matthew Cutolo, 30, one of the chefs, whose grandfather was close friends with the family, eat together every day around 2:30 p.m. “Everything is homemade,” says Michael Russo, 62, who oversees the kitchen. “We make, bake and butcher everything in house — legs of veal, racks of steaks.” When the siblings were kids, they worked there after school and most of Sunday. “Everyone went to church,” says Raffaela Russo, 64. “By 10:30, we were at the restaurant, working until the evening, and then we went out to Brennan & Carr until one o’clock in the morning.” Anthony Russo, 60, says it’s that family aspect that’s Gargiulo’s most enduring appeal. “People want good food,” says Anthony. “But they also want to be known, to be part of the family, and you build a rapport over time.”
Holidays at Gargiulo’s are celebrated with gustatory passion: Carnevale, in February or March, is marked with pizza rustica (a quiche-like pie made with sausage meat, eggs and Parmigiano), St. Joseph’s Day (March 19) with Zeppole di San Giuseppe (pastry with cream filling), Easter with lamb, and Christmas Eve with 1,000 pounds of calamari that’s fried, stuffed, baked or boiled. Next month, Gargiulo’s will host its own San Gennaro festival.
Behind the restaurant is a patio that holds about 100 people. The Russos call it the Pizza Garden. The concept has evolved over the years — Cutolo has added wine barrels and garlands of faux lemons and ivy vines. “We want it to feel like you’re in Italy,” he says. “Uncle Louis coordinates the flowers and herb beds [planted] with fresh basil, rosemary and mint.” Nino Russo, 61, handles the restaurant’s publicity.
You can linger over wine and a cheesy pie while the sun sets. On Friday nights throughout the summer, you might see fireworks over Coney Island from the front of the restaurant, or you can walk a block to the boardwalk and watch the gold and silver showers fall away into the sea.
Dining and Cooking