Moving from Southern California to New Jersey at age 14, New York first revealed to me what a true city is. When in that NY state of mind, I miss its boundless (if exhausting) energy, and, yes, its’ East Coast-style American Italian food. Both in the city and Jersey suburbs where I spent part of my youth, I reminisce about family dinners filling up on mountains of cheese, doughy pasta and soul-gratifying red sauce.
I’m particularly picky about red sauce, which my Sicilian grandfather and my mother used to cook from scratch, letting it simmer for hours, filling the house with blissful aromas. The perfect red sauce should exhibit sweet and savory notes, tomato tang and garlicky goodness. My Sicilian aunts, cousins and mom all disagree about what was in grandpa’s pasta sauce recipe when I tried to document it. It seems each has their own version as great family recipes tend to evolve. I wish I’d written it down from grandpa Alberto when I was younger. But the taste memory lingers… and I’m evolving my own version of red sauce at home. I also fondly remember NJ family favorite neighborhood restaurant, Cafe L’Amore, just down the hill from us in North Jersey, a place where red sauce reigns.
In my chosen home of San Francisco, incredible and authentically regional Italian food abounds, matched by our Italian population and rich history of Italian influence, beautifully showcased in so-much-more-than-a-Little-Italy North Beach neighborhood. Old school American Italian red sauce joints also exist here aplenty, but require some deeper digging. I desperately miss the pandemic closure of my most beloved OG 1960s joint, Ristorante Marcello. That one really hurt, as I’d dine next to elderly regulars and the plumbers union having their group dinner, while decades-long waiters in little yellow/gold jackets and black pants kept it real. And I will ever miss their garlic-heavy spaghetti alla matriciana.
Also decades-old Gold Mirror nearby in Outer Sunset is still going, thank God, though I loved Marcello’s more (my 2010 Gold Mirror review here). In addition, I dig Gaspare’s “real deal” lasagna and tabletop jukeboxes, or the 1970s Italian opera vibes of La Traviata, all places I’ve been dining at for over 20 years.
It has been 10 years since I wrote a full review of Original Joe’s in North Beach, but I’ve been dining at the OG Joe’s since it was in the Tenderloin (a few years later, they reopened in North Beach after a fire closed the ‘loin location in 2007). Joe’s opened in 1937 by Croatian immigrant, Tony Rodin, who survived hunger and war in his home country. In the late 1930’s, he partnered with Louis Rocca all the way until 1983 when Rocca sold his share of the business to Tony’s daughter and son-in-law, Marie and John J. Duggan. The Duggan’s daughter Elena and son John eventually helped run the three-generation family business.
I’ve been dining at Joe’s sister, Original Joe’s Westlake, under prior owners for the last two decades. Bruno Scatena opened Joe’s of Westlake in 1956, which was eventually run by his daughter, Melinda Scatena, who worked there since she was 14 years old, selling it as she ran into health problems. My husband, Dan “The Renaissance Man,” and I adored it in those years and it was perpetually packed as if it were the hottest new restaurant.
The Duggan family took over and reopened it in 2016. Food quality improved and the dining room was dramatically remodeled to full midcentury glory. Only the bar was a sad change for me, Dan and friends who loved its divey-fabulous, dark bar with 70s fireplace, padded grand piano and a fabulously cheesy 1970s mural complete with turtle-necked guy draping a jacket over his shoulder while holding a glass of red wine. The bar is now too-bright, filled with distracting TV screens and a bit slick compared to its divey former glory.
But other than the bar, Original Joe’s Westlake is better than ever with warm, engaging service and heartwarming red sauce Italian food. It retains the best elements of what has long made Joe’s of Westlake a family favorite of myself, The Renaissance Man, my sister and brother-in-law. Here, my sister and I revel in our Jersey Sicilian roots, while Dan and I thrill in our midcentury devotion (how we decorate at home) with Original Joe’s Westlake brilliant 1950s architecture, all-red building and curved driveway with porte-cochere (only thing is, I can’t seem to break the habit of calling it Joe’s of Westlake).
Returning this January with Dan, sister and bro-in-law, we cozied up in a delightful olive green booth for a round of cocktails. Though you’ll still get those oversized 1960s-90s martini glasses and heavy focus on classics — martinis (the real martini: gin, of course) and Manhattans — that’s just what you want here. I’ve long held fond memories of Joe’s generous martinis with sidecars in the bar, cheap and generous. The martinis are still stiff and lovely, though sans sidecar on ice. Seasonal cocktails are nicely done, particularly recently a Bourbon Maple Sour. I usually don’t like maple in cocktails as it overwhelms the flavor profile, making drinks cloyingly sweet. The balance is spot-on here, a base of nearby Healdsburg’s Lost Republic Bourbon, our great St. George’s Spiced Pear Liqueur, a whisper of maple, lemon and aromatic rosemary.
Our sweetheart waiter and equally warm general manager made us feel immediately at home. We then dove into an extravaganza of hearty, comforting, delicious food. Starters and salads hold much of the menu’s glory. All the old school salads you could want are here: Caesar, iceberg wedge, blue cheese Caesar, crab Louie, Cobb and my always beloved Italian chopped salad, laden with chickpeas, pepperoncinis, salumi and cheese. Standout starters include their rich spinach artichoke dip, spot-on fried calamari with equally spot-on cocktail and tartar sauces, and appropriately garlicky garlic bread, which my husband and brother-in-law bogart despite already gorging on carbs via pasta.
The deal is sealed with Joe’s classics. While thinly-sliced eggplant parmigiana and dreamy lasagna look similar, blessedly drowning in red sauce, it’s hard to resist sharing both as the flavor profiles and textures are decidedly different, though they share cheesy red sauce goodness. Joe’s ravioli — and spaghetti and meatballs — are also old reliables.
We should balance all those carbs with some protein. While in theory I prefer a filet of sole piccata, I go for veal piccata in salty capers, shallots, garlic, lemon and white wine. The capers make my Sicilian side happy, one the island’s greatest crops and exports. While baby cow is not my usual go-to in meat, I do adopt a cultural “when in Rome” approach to eating, thus veal makes most sense when in Italy where the tender meat is ubiquitous and in classic American-Italian restaurants where veal hits range from Milanese to parmigiana. Some regulars live for Joe’s steak and chops section and there are chicken versions of most classics, too. Many pastas are vegetarian, though not all are vegan. Prime rib and Joe’s “famous” hamburger sandwich on a sourdough roll are other entree favorites.
No, I don’t have room for dessert, but if they serve decadent, heaping sweets, including bombolini (Italian donuts) and New York cheesecake. Popular Joe’s warm butter cake steals the dessert show, with cream cheese adding moist richness to the batter. Celebrating my belated Christmas Day birthday in January, we had a whole dessert spread, complete with staff buoyantly singing “happy birthday” around our table.
We had no choice but to roll out of there with a couple bags of leftovers, reliving elements of the meal over a working lunch the next day. As we departed, we paused outside on the left side of the restaurant. When dining at Original Joe’s Westlake with family, we have a tradition of posing under the logo against the red wall for pretend-to-Rat-Pack-era-stars pics. My retro wardrobe is at home here, a natural backdrop to how I dress everyday.
We gaze out on the suburban streets of Daly City, the predominantly Filipino town that feels like an extension of SF minutes away. While the best things do change, I am grateful to the Original Joe’s team for keeping Original Joe’s Westlake’s best attributes alive and preserved for future generations. The place is as packed as it ever was, exuding hospitality of an era gone-by, but still very much a present and necessary part of our rich culinary landscape.
// 11 Glenwood Avenue, Daly City; https://originaljoes.com/westlake
