My mother, girlfriend and I had a quiet weeknight dinner at Vince and Eddie’s about a month ago. My mom described it as “the typical restaurant you imagine in New York.” She meant that it’s one of the many places that’s on the ground floor of a townhouse, and about eight times deeper than it is wide.
In a one-star review over seventeen years ago, Marian Burros admirably summarized the place: “The cooking at Vince and Eddie’s is being compared to Grandma’s, or Mother’s, depending on your last birthday. No matter. The comparison conjures up feel-good adjectives like hearty, simple, warm, comforting.” Burros also found a good deal of unevenness back then, a problem not evident to us, though I’ll admit our sample was small and unscientific.
My mom and I tried some of the tenderest calf’s liver we’ve had anywhere (above). But that’s not good enough for Vince and Eddie’s, which piles on the onion rings, baked apples, bacon, and gravy. I’ve forgotten my girlfriend’s entrée, but I recall that it too was a mountain of rich, uncomplicated food, enjoyably prepared.
The restaurant was not crowded, and I suspect that it seldom is. But it has done well enough to survive as a solid neighborhood place and occasional pre-Lincoln Center standby. The world needs more like it.
Vince and Eddie’s (70 W. 68th Street between Columbus Avenue & Central Park West, Upper West Side)