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Nov 02, 2024

Restaurant Review: Caffè Panna | The New Yorker

If you like ice cream—according to one poll, ninety-seven per cent of Americans do—chances are high that you’ll find something at Caffè Panna to later dream about. The original location, on Irving

If you like ice cream—according to one poll, ninety-seven per cent of Americans do—chances are high that you’ll find something at Caffè Panna to later dream about. The original location, on Irving Place, in Gramercy Park, was opened in 2019 by Hallie Meyer—the daughter of the restaurateur Danny Meyer—as an homage to Italian coffee and gelato and also to the Union Square Greenmarket. It may sound chaotic, but Meyer has a way with all three, seamlessly presenting, from a chic walkup to-go counter, an array of gelatos, including seven “classic” flavors; coffee drinks, plus a granita featuring the Rome staple Sant’Eustachio; and five new flavors every day, utilizing Greenmarket ingredients—raspberries, Sungold tomatoes, basil—whenever possible.

After a pandemic blip, which spurred the addition of hand-packed pints to the roster, Caffè Panna’s popularity continued to grow—social media loves a towering sundae, and a buzzy collab (Levain Bakery, “Somebody Feed Phil,” the list goes on). Energized by the food scene in Greenpoint, Meyer has opened a new outpost there, big enough, at nearly five thousand square feet, to house an actual ice-cream factory and a seating area. At either location, scoops come in a brown-paper cup, with the option of added “panna” (whipped cream), “drizzle” (chocolate, salty caramel, strawberry, or olive oil), and “crunch” (Oreo, a graham-cracker crunch, flaky salt, or rainbow sprinkles)‚ all gratis.

The ice cream is rich, almost chewy, the flavors specific and fun: classics include an optimal stracciatella, coffee-infused and striated with crackling slivers of Amano chocolate, and a somehow subtle cookies and cream with “housemade Oreo brittle”; recent one-offs were a cherry-and-pie-crust number, Sicilian pistachio with lemon-bar chunks, and a mild fresh-mint gelato swirled with dark fudge. Affogatos, scoops topped with espresso, offer the best of both worlds, and recently, in Greenpoint, a searingly sour lemon granita, layered with panna, lemon rind, mint, and scant sugar, was one of the most deliciously bracing citrus dishes I’ve had.

The congenial young staff seems to be in on the collective secret of what makes this place so good—and simultaneously in awe of it: genuinely impressed, for instance, as they recite the fact that the cream is imported from Piedmont, and whipped fresh every day—as well they should be! The cream is thick yet light as air, with barely a hint of sweetness (a pleasing theme). Owing to high demand and space limitations—the factory can churn only so much—flavors sell out at a rapid clip. One night around eight-forty-five, as I stood on a line with at least seventy other people, vanilla and chocolate were the only choices left; by the time I got to order, vanilla was gone, too. A scoop of chocolate ice cream, panna, olive-oil drizzle, a bit of sea salt—turns out, it’s definitely what I wanted. (Scoops from $5.50; pints $13.) ♦

An earlier version of this article misidentified some menu items in the photo captions.