Don Peppe

Don Peppe has no paper menu. Instead, there's a large board hanging on the back wall that is almost visible to the entire restaurant—almost. Not that you really need it, because the best way to eat at this South Ozone Park spot is to let your server decide. 

Give them the reins and they’ll bring you just the right number of baked clams, advise you against ordering a salad, accost you for wearing a hat, and remind you that 12pm is a perfectly fine time for wine. And when your order arrives, they'll delicately place a few clams on each person’s plate, with one hand and two spoons. 

photo credit: Alex Staniloff

photo credit: Alex Staniloff

photo credit: Alex Staniloff

Things have changed since Don Peppe opened in 1968—like the cost of a subway ride, which at the time was 20 cents—but the best parts of this cash-only, family-style Italian restaurant remain. The service is brusk, yet thoughtful, and the person calling to let them know they’re coming with a group of 22 in a few hours is treated with the confident nonchalance of a well-oiled machine. 

To say that Don Peppe is strictly a big group restaurant, however, would be untrue. At lunch, you’ll see a few solo diners, drinking red wine and eating Shrimp Luciano pasta in a dining room covered in jockey uniforms and framed photos of horses. (This spot is about a mile from the Aqueduct Racetrack.) But Don Peppe truly shines when big platters flecked with sauce land on crowded round tables, so if it’s your first time here, come with a group. Hours later, after a long and lazy feast, you will stumble out onto the street, cash-poor and veal parm-rich, wondering just how many pounds of pasta this place goes through in a single day.  

Food Rundown

photo credit: Willa Moore

Free Bread

It’s not a few slices, it's an entire, flaky loaf, cut almost all the way through so that it forms an accordion, which you can rip and dip into the butter pooling beneath your order of baked clams. Every time your basket is empty it will be refilled, so your meal will probably begin and end with bread. As it should.

photo credit: Alex Staniloff

Baked Clams

A server told us these are the best baked clams in New York City, and a busser wore a shirt that had “The Original Baked Clams” printed on the back. Don’t think too hard about what that means—because what does that mean?—but be sure to order these. They are crisped to almost black on top, and creamy and meaty underneath.

Fried Peppers

Unlike the baked clams, no breadcrumbs were harmed in the making of these peppers. Instead, they are delightfully simple—red peppers, charred, with enough garlic and olive oil to last you for a week in the privacy of your own home. So simple that you might consider skipping this. Don’t do that.

photo credit: Alex Staniloff

Shrimp Luciano

You won’t find this dish on many Italian menus in the city, and that’s reason enough to come here. Get it over pasta, and pounds of al dente noodles will arrive at your table covered in tender shrimp, in a pool of garlic-butter sauce that’s slightly pink from tomatoes, and slightly sweet from caramelized onions.

photo credit: Willa Moore

Veal Don Pep

This breaded veal dish named after the restaurant itself is—sadly—the one dish we truly could not get behind at Don Peppe. The veal is pounded thinly and well-seasoned, but the mound of bruschetta-like raw tomatoes and red onions on top made the veal a cold and soggy end to our feast. Opt for veal parm, or just end with the shrimp Luciano. You’ll be full enough anyway.