The Italian Inn

In the gently lit restaurant, a waiter in black trousers and white shirt glides between tables toward one of many private booths. When he reaches his destination, he opens his mouth to greet the waiting guests and take their order, but instead of speaking, he bursts into song. The singing waiters’ nightly performances help to fuel the happy chatter that rolls across diners at The Italian Inn as soon as they pass the red-and-white striped pole near the entryway. As a live musician sits down at a piano to join the servers in their songs, wall sconces and tabletop candles flicker. Red, blue, and green light-garlands run across the room, casting playful hues on walls covered in handwritten epigrams, love notes, and messages from cardiologists concerned by hearts full of letters.

Chefs load plates with USDA Choice beef or decorate pastas imported from small Italian towns with sauces made fresh daily or imported olive oil. In the kitchen, the crew crafts soups, dressings, and desserts anew each day, and servers scoot past to grab bottles from a cellar crowded with international red, white, and bubbling vintages.