In a city constantly chasing the next culinary trend, there are enduring establishments that stand as testaments to tradition and authenticity. John’s of 12th Street in New York City is one such gem. For over a century, this red-sauce Italian restaurant in the heart of the East Village has been serving up not just food, but an experience steeped in history and familial warmth. While modern food media often glorifies high-pressure, competition-driven culinary narratives, John’s of 12th Street offers a refreshing contrast – a place where time seems to slow down, and the focus is on genuine hospitality and classic comfort.
Recently, the documentary “John’s of 12th Street” offered an intimate glimpse into the daily life of this iconic eatery. Filmed at Spectacle Theater in Williamsburg and directed by Vanessa McDonnell, the film eschews dramatic fanfare for a naturalistic portrayal of the restaurant’s rhythms. It opens with a seemingly mundane yet charmingly telling scene: owner Nick Sitnycky grappling with a malfunctioning ATM, its dial-tone sounds a stark reminder of the restaurant’s old-school ethos. This sets the stage for a film that celebrates the analog in a digital world, where even a simple Yankees score requires a landline call. (Though, in a nod to the times, John’s has since embraced Twitter, showcasing its ability to adapt while retaining its core identity).
A central figure in the documentary is Mikey “Two Names” Alpert (also known as Myron Weiner), who, along with Sitnycky, purchased John’s of 12th Street back in 1973. A poignant moment in the film features Alpert recalling the restaurant’s history, pointing to a still-present photo of 1940s actor Chester Morris. His remark, “My partner was saying, ‘All these famous people dined here.’ And I said, ‘Nicky, they’re all dead!'” encapsulates the restaurant’s long and storied past with a touch of wry humor. Alpert’s passing after the filming adds another layer of depth to his on-screen presence, making his mantra, “I love what I do and I do what I love,” all the more resonant.
Throughout the documentary, Alpert’s personality shines – a mix of old-school charm and playful gruffness. He’s seen bantering with staff and engaging with customers, embodying the welcoming spirit of John’s of 12th Street. However, the film also hints at the complexities of his character, with a waiter half-jokingly describing the employee initiation process involving Myron’s “fucked up thing” and subsequent descent into the “dark side.”
Despite these hinted-at dynamics, the atmosphere at John’s appears genuinely warm and familial. The long-serving, bow-tied waiters, all men and many veterans of the restaurant, exhibit a camaraderie that extends to their interactions with patrons. Their classic Italian-American banter, reminiscent of something out of “Real Housewives of New Jersey,” adds to the restaurant’s unique charm. Anecdotes from diners, ranging from Madonna sightings to memories of waiting in line to get into John’s in its heyday, further paint a picture of its enduring place in New York City’s social fabric.
While John’s of 12th Street is undeniably Italian-American, the documentary subtly acknowledges the evolving demographics of New York. A waiter’s quip, “Italians are the minorities here, I have to tell you,” followed by “There are two of them,” is delivered with a knowing smile. The kitchen, where Spanish is spoken and cooks discuss their children’s charter schools, reflects a contemporary New York reality while the front-of-house maintains its classic Italian-American persona. This blend of old and new is further exemplified by the long tenures of chef William “Rene” Heras (40 years) and dessert chef brother Victor (30 years), highlighting the restaurant’s true family spirit, both literally and figuratively.
“John’s of 12th Street” excels at capturing the natural rhythm of a typical night at the restaurant. From fixing door hinges to the flow of service, the documentary offers an authentic, behind-the-scenes look. While some viewers might crave more direct exposition from the taciturn owner Sitnycky, the film’s strength lies in its observational approach. It leaves you wanting to experience John’s of 12th Street firsthand, to soak in its atmosphere and perhaps even engage in your own conversation with the staff, camera-free. Just remember, when you visit this East Village institution, don’t ask for the baked clams without garlic – some traditions are best left untouched.
For those seeking a genuine taste of old New York, John’s of 12th Street remains an essential destination. It’s more than just a restaurant; it’s a living piece of the city’s history, serving up a timeless experience that transcends fleeting trends.
