Sweet Basil Cafe

On the café's sign, a tiny green leaf glows like a hyphen between the words “Sweet” and “Basil.” Through the glass doors, the ebb and flow of conversation rolls against the canary-yellow walls. Peeking around at the black lacquered tables, patrons see steaming pies draped in thick, emerald cloaks of pesto, whose scent hints at garlic, pine nuts, and the eatery’s namesake herb, basil. Forks spool richly sauced pastas and bury themselves deep into stuffed calzones. Scoops of spumoni ease feasts to a close, unlike the decision to show off how strong a homemade table is.