They say you are your own worst critic, and second in line is Mother Dearest. It’s all out of love, of course, but moms give it to you straight—with that uncanny way of dredging out every last, embarrassing "remember when" at the dinner table. So in honor of May 11, we’re FEATURING four of New York’s finest culinary personalities and the apples of their eyes. Next in our series: Joey Campanaro and his mother, Patricia.
Joey is the owner and chef of The Little Owl, or, as anyone who has ever stumbled upon the corner of Bedford and Grove will attest, the most charming little restaurant that could. The blink-and-you’ll-miss-it, 30-seat West Village gem may seem unassuming, but menu classics like gravy meatball sliders, a crispy chicken, and that sexy, juicy pork chop are anything but. In fact, in the past eight years, those meatball sliders have become so popular that Joey started a catering business just to keep up with the demand. Has he always dished out the crowd-pleasers? His mom says otherwise…
JEANINE CELESTE PANG: How was Joey as a little kid? Was he mischievous?
PATRICIA CAMPANARO: Mischievous? No, he was very people-oriented. We used to say he was going to be a politician when he grew up; he got along with everyone.
What is the worst thing he’s ever done?
JOEY CAMPANARO: The Raisinets…
PC: I can’t tell this story. Well, I can tell it, but I don’t think you’ll want to run it. He was very little. I was lying on the floor watching TV—and this was before Pampers had elastics around the legs—and sometimes with children, their bowels end up looking like Raisinets. So he said, “Open your mouth, Mom.” So I opened my mouth, and he dropped one in.
No.
PC: YES.
And what about when he was older? When did he start poking around in the kitchen?
PC: He developed an interest in preparing food a little later—maybe in high school. I worked at the high school that he attended and he would often get home before me. And on Fridays, he would have the pizza dough made.
Joey, has your mom influenced your cooking?
JC: Certainly. My food is seasonal Mediterranean, but it’s heavy-handed on the Italian side. I’d say Little Owl is the first non-Italian-American restaurant that served Italian food, so it’s the underpromise/overdeliver, very ambiguous name, but when you walk in, you can get some fresh pasta. Some of the pastas we used to make together were cavatelli and tagliatelle, but we didn’t call them that—we called them “homemades.”
Homemades?
PC: Homemades—they were homemade noodles.
JC: You’d see a broomstick on two chairs in the dining room with pasta drying on it.
PC: And ravioli—
JC: And ravioli all the time.
Patricia, what do you think of your son’s pasta? Is it better than yours?
PC: I think it’s great, but it’s different.
JC: The ziti recipe I’m giving you is one of my mom’s favorites. She fed six people in a row home in Philly and everyone worked, so she would make really quick meals, like even before all the Rachael Ray-type stuff. She would cook meals for six people in 15, 20 minutes—like that. [Snaps] And s
Joey is the owner and chef of The Little Owl, or, as anyone who has ever stumbled upon the corner of Bedford and Grove will attest, the most charming little restaurant that could. The blink-and-you’ll-miss-it, 30-seat West Village gem may seem unassuming, but menu classics like gravy meatball sliders, a crispy chicken, and that sexy, juicy pork chop are anything but. In fact, in the past eight years, those meatball sliders have become so popular that Joey started a catering business just to keep up with the demand. Has he always dished out the crowd-pleasers? His mom says otherwise…
JEANINE CELESTE PANG: How was Joey as a little kid? Was he mischievous?
PATRICIA CAMPANARO: Mischievous? No, he was very people-oriented. We used to say he was going to be a politician when he grew up; he got along with everyone.
What is the worst thing he’s ever done?
JOEY CAMPANARO: The Raisinets…
PC: I can’t tell this story. Well, I can tell it, but I don’t think you’ll want to run it. He was very little. I was lying on the floor watching TV—and this was before Pampers had elastics around the legs—and sometimes with children, their bowels end up looking like Raisinets. So he said, “Open your mouth, Mom.” So I opened my mouth, and he dropped one in.
No.
PC: YES.
And what about when he was older? When did he start poking around in the kitchen?
PC: He developed an interest in preparing food a little later—maybe in high school. I worked at the high school that he attended and he would often get home before me. And on Fridays, he would have the pizza dough made.
Joey, has your mom influenced your cooking?
JC: Certainly. My food is seasonal Mediterranean, but it’s heavy-handed on the Italian side. I’d say Little Owl is the first non-Italian-American restaurant that served Italian food, so it’s the underpromise/overdeliver, very ambiguous name, but when you walk in, you can get some fresh pasta. Some of the pastas we used to make together were cavatelli and tagliatelle, but we didn’t call them that—we called them “homemades.”
Homemades?
PC: Homemades—they were homemade noodles.
JC: You’d see a broomstick on two chairs in the dining room with pasta drying on it.
PC: And ravioli—
JC: And ravioli all the time.
Patricia, what do you think of your son’s pasta? Is it better than yours?
PC: I think it’s great, but it’s different.
JC: The ziti recipe I’m giving you is one of my mom’s favorites. She fed six people in a row home in Philly and everyone worked, so she would make really quick meals, like even before all the Rachael Ray-type stuff. She would cook meals for six people in 15, 20 minutes—like that. [Snaps] And s