The Harbor of the city of New York, 1986
New York in the Gay Eighteen Nineties had almost everything, except for a place where an opera lover, after a night of Verdi or Puccini, could relax, play a Neapolitan card game called “Scopa” and drink a cup or two of espresso.
The story behind the opening of the oldest paticceria in the U.S. in 1892 is one of music-loving immigrants searching for a place to sit, have an espresso and socialize after a night of listening to operatic masters, Verdi and Puccini. The void of having a common gathering place was especially felt because most of the Lower Manhattan tenements lacked real kitchens and public spaces–a difficult concept for immigrants from a communal, agrarian society.
Antonio Ferrara, an opera impresario and showman, and Enrico Scoppa, both from Naples, found their solution in Caffe A. Ferrara’s, a business based on community and the finest coffee this side of the Atlantic. A home grown reputation, along with Antonio’s theater ties, is what allowed Ferrara’s to host repeat sessions by world-renowned tenor Enrico Caruso…Well, that and the pignoli and sfoliatelli they baked daily.
Ferrara Bakery and Cafe, established in 1892 by Antonio Ferrara, claims to be America’s first espresso bar. It is located in Little Italy, Manhattan, New York City and offers Italian delicacies. Ferrara has remained a family-owned business since its inception and is operated at its original location on Grand Street by the family’s fifth generation of bakers.
Ferrara Café became known for its torrone, the traditional Italian nougat candy. A baker pours large amounts of whole almonds and filberts, while a huge mixing machine blends the nougat candy ingredients.
And so one cold February Sunday morning in 1982, I had lunch at a Chinese restaurant just south of Canal Street. As a sworn Central European, I wanted a good cappuccino after lunch.
And I stepped onto the north side of Canal Street into the neighborhood known as Little Italy. I’m walking down Mulberry Street. I don’t know why, but the street was almost empty. Maybe it was family Sunday lunch time. And the Italians were having lunch with their mothers. Maybe. When I finally meet someone, I ask him where I can get a good cappuccino. And the guy tells me, right around the corner, Cafe Ferrara, they have the best cappuccino in New York.
And indeed, a pleasant bar, few guests, lacquered oak furniture, brass ornaments, large mirrors. Advertisements for Baci® Perugina® chocolate pralines. And the inscription, we serve you coffee from Italy. Friendly, big-smiling, loud-chatting Italian waitresses. Sounds and environment like somewhere in central Italy.
And a really good cappuccino.
I sip it slowly and enjoy it. I close my eyes and imagine that I am almost home, less than a hundred kilometers from Trieste. I slowly get up, pay and walk out into the cold day.