It’s the season for Oktoberfest, that famous beer festival in Munich, which runs from late September into early October, inspiring breweries in Munich, elsewhere in Germany, and across this country to produce a slate of copper-colored, medium-bodied beers of the same name. The style most commonly known as Oktoberfest is Märzen, a lager that is clear and amber-hued featuring a smooth, malty taste and a slightly dry finish buttressed by a judicious use of classic German hops. It was introduced by the Spaten brewery in 1871-72, derived from a style of lager beer created in Vienna a few decades earlier. This is a style of beer I've really enjoyed over the years. I wrote about a tasting of these a decade ago, and thought it was about time to update it.
 
Märzen is March in German and was the last month in which brewing was possible because of the wild yeasts that quickly propagated during the warm days of summer in the time before refrigeration. The beer was stored in cold cellars – to “lager” in German – and drank during the course of the summer. The last of the beers, usually a little heavier and deemed more special, were consumed by the end of the September and early October for the festival and its predecessor fall festivals. The long storage ensured an especially smooth and flavorful beer. And it always is from the remaining six Munich brewers.
 
There is some confusion with the Oktoberfest name for beers, though. Beginning in the mid-1970s, the dawn of the age of light beer, Paulaner introduced the Festbier, a lighter beer than the Märzen to serve at the festival. It was similar if a little more alcoholic style of the brewery’s main beer, Helles. The other Munich breweries followed suit at the festival over the next couple of decades. So now for consumers here, Oktoberfest can mean either a Märzen or the broadly Helles style when labeled “Festbier,” or really some interpretation of either. When looking for the classic malty, darker beer look for both “Oktoberfest” and “Märzen” on a label.
 
Those traditional versions from Bavaria are smoother, more balanced between the slightly sweet taste of malt and a long, dry finish and, most significantly, without the flaws, the harsh notes often found in beers from the small domestic breweries, which are more also more alcoholic. Tasting for this proved again to me how difficult it is to make flavorful lager beers, especially those lightly hopped.
 
The ratings below are done in a hybrid of my copy of Michael Jackson’s Pocket Guide to Beer (signed by the author himself) and the New York Times wine scores, 0 to ****. It is mostly Märzen but the Festbier style, or name, is too common to ignore. The beers are listed in order of preference from the Oktoberfest beers I could find in Houston. The progenitor of the Märzen, Spaten, is not to be found here now, sadly.
 
 
Hacker-Pschorr Oktoberfest Märzen ***
Balanced flavor with malty aroma that extends to the slightly sweet taste with a bit of dryness at the end and very smooth throughout, it is cooling autumn Munich in a glass: expectedly very well-made, hearty, alcoholic and lending itself to some buzzy fun. Really easy to drink. 5.7% alcohol by volume; 21 IBUs
 
Paulaner Oktoberfest Märzen  ***
An welcome nose of sweet dark malt and then a malty, smooth taste and a long finish that is an exemplar of the Märzen style. Excellent. 5.8% alcohol by volume; 20 IBUs.
 
Ayinger Oktober Fest-Märzen  ** ½
Sporting a slightly malty aroma with a hint of nutmeg has a very long, extremely smooth and malty taste with a welcome touch of sweetness that makes it an easy beer to enjoy, if not quite as outstanding in the past. From one of the world’s greatest breweries. Just a little drier on the finish than its Bavarian brethren. 5.8% alcohol by volume; 23 IBUs.
 
Altstadt Okt Oktoberfest  ** ½
Amber color in the glass and malt nicely on the nose from a combination of almost traditional Pilsner, Vienna and Munich malted barley leading to a plush mouth feel and a just little sweetness in this Märzen-style lager. Its fairly clean finish stands out among small domestic breweries. Quite nice and quite easy to imbibe and doing Fredericksburg, Texas proud. 5.9% alcohol; 16 IBUs.
 
Samuel Adams Octoberfest  **
Slightly malty aromas were followed by a appropriately malty taste. Smooth and hearty if without the complexity of the Munich beers. Made in the traditional style, Sam Adams has been making this beer for a number of years and knows what it is doing; among the best of the American versions. 5.3% alcohol; 16 IBUs.
 
B52 Brewing Festbier  **
Golden-colored and featuring a different, almost-fruity aroma, this is dry and properly quite pleasant, Bavarian-inflected, well-rendered effort from this Conroe, Texas brewery. 5.8% alcohol; 22 IBUs.
 
Warsteiner Oktoberfest * ½
A yeasty aroma and lighter color for a Märzen, and not officially one, shows that this is a little different for the style. Smooth and soft-tasting, without much noticeable malt on the palate and a drier finish. 5.9% alcohol; 24 IBUs.
 
Karbach Karbachtoberfest  * ½
Lighter in color than nearly all of the others and the most effervescent, this had a long taste that was not nearly as malty or strong as the typical style, and less flavorful. Quite pleasant, if not delicious. Maybe authentic, but this is the Crawford Bock version of a traditional Märzen: something you know that this skilled brewing team with roots in Munich with which it can doing better. 5.5% alcohol; 25 IBUs.
 
Sierra Nevada Oktoberfest Festbier Gutmann Collab Effort * ½
Tastes like a Sierra Nevada with a hoppy finish and less malty profile than the other beers of this season. Different than what you might expect with Oktoberfest on the label, though lighter-colored like a Festbier. Smooth. Yet another high-quality product from one of the country’s best that is easy to enjoy even with the slightly elevated alcohol. 6.0% alcohol; 30 IBUs.
 
Bell’s Oktoberfest * ½
This Märzen offers a some malt and finishing dry and bit metallic; not as robustly flavorful as the best versions. Maybe not in this lauded Michigan brewer’s wheelhouse, it does come across as quite a well-made beer. 5.5% alcohol; 24 IBUs.
 
Galveston Bay Brewing Oktoberfest * ½
Smooth with evident maltiness and largely clean-tasting throughout, this is a satisfying, hearty lager. 6.5% alcohol; 22 IBUs.
 
Southern Star Oktoberfest  *
A bit malty, largely smooth but with a metallic aftertaste; better than most area versions. 6.3% alcohol; 25 IBUs
 
Saint Arnold Oktoberfest  *
Actually an ale, like Shiner’s version, but both looking the Märzen part in a glass. This is maltier and tastier, if not nearly one of Saint Arnold’s best beers, as it has a thin and metallic finish. More alcoholic than it once was, which might be appealing to some. 6.6% alcohol; 18 IBUs.
 
No Label Oktoberfest Festbier  *
Deep golden-colored, this is a richer beer for the style without the dryness or complexity of the Munich-brewed Festbiers but cleaner-tasting than those from most small breweries. 6.0% alcohol; 21 IBUs.
 
Spindletap Festbier  ½
Not much on the nose. Dry finish, mostly smooth. Austere, even for the style. 4.2% alcohol; ~20 IBUs.
 
Eureka Heights Von Wolfhausen Festbier  ½
Bronze-hued, crisp and dry, it is generally inoffensive, if a little unpleasant at the end. 4.5% alcohol; 15 IBUs.
 
Shiner Oktoberfest  ½
Odd with a hint of soapiness then metal. Thin for the style – that it is an ale not a lager might be a reason – and tasting fairly cheaply rendered. Mostly disagreeable. 5.7% alcohol; 18 IBUs.
 
Manhattan Project Beer Co. Oktoberfest   ½
A light brown color is the first hint that this is in the Märzen style as a brief taste of malt that leads to a too-thin and unpleasant, slightly metallic aftertaste. From Dallas. 5.5% alcohol; ~20 IBUs.
 
903 Oktoberfest   ½ 
Identified as a lager and Märzen and with a proper amber color, this Sherman, Texas-brewed beer has somewhat of home-brew aroma and some maltiness on the palate but then to a bit of a rough, dry taste that stays on the tongue. 5.4% alcohol; ~20 IBUs.
 
Texas Leaguer Mr. Oktoberfest Märzen  ½
Amusingly showing current Astros assistant Reggie Jackson in his Yankee days after a big swing (and probably a miss). Nice malty aroma, but with a thinner-tasting than hoped for and a mostly tinny aftertaste. Mo City, Texas. 5.7% alcohol; 21 IBUs.
 
Urban South Oktoberfest   ½ 
Sporting a pumpkin hue and emitting a home-brew aroma leads to an initial hint of malt but then to a harsh taste that lingers for this can labeled as a Märzen Lager. 6.2% alcohol; ~20 IBUs.
 
Equal Parts Oktoberfest  0 
Dark orange-colored, almost there, but it’s the highlight; a DYI homebrew aroma and a rough taste follows. Even salty snacks won’t encourage you to drink much of this. 6.1% alcohol; ~20 IBUs.
 
Paradigm Oktoberfest  0
Unpromising nose then thin and soapy on the palate. Ugh. Appealing clean can design for this lager, though. Tomball, Texas. 5.4% alcohol; ~20 IBUs.

Watching from a café, aperitivo at hand, across a small street from the popular trattoria Scannabue, we saw other tourists gathering at its entrance for the chance of a table that evening, seemingly all without luck. This helped reinforce the thought that this was a good choice for the first meal during my first visit to the charming city of Turin. But I was already feeling fairly confident as this restaurant in the bohemian- and immigrant-accented San Salvario neighborhood near the grand central train station was recommended in the Michelin guide – my go-to for dining in Europe – and had a Bib Gourmand designation to boot, had been cited in a recent New York Times travel piece, “36 Hours in Turin,” and even had a positive blurb from England’s top wine publication, Decanter.
 
Part of the initial seating, we were among the first to arrive in a low-ceiling setting that was homey, comfortable, but quickly filled with the liveliness of a popular, buzzy restaurant. The few diners there at the start, were, like us, seemingly eagerly looking toward the meal and enjoying the evening. Those expectations were to be met, exceeded even. The dinner, with bread, quickly brought to the table, including grissini, of course, then the dishes, was excellent and service was attentive, friendly, and nicely mostly in English. We went with the five-course traditional menu for a comparative song at just 35 euros, for a sample some of the highlights of the rich, often meaty and widely appealing cuisine of this land-locked region. That was, in succession: veal tonnato, playfully topped with a big caperberry; tender agnolotti del plin filled with three roasted ground meats; braised beef in red wine, this with veal cheek and mashed potatoes; whipped baccalà in more mashed potatoes; and bonet, a chocolate panna cotta, of sorts.
 
These were each updated versions of classic local and regional dishes, dishes I’d had in previous trips. These were just done better: more flavorful, richer, featuring evidently high quality ingredients, with considerable experience and skill in the kitchen, and generally presented more attractively. The veal tonnato featured very soft slices of roast veal, nicely tart, as good as any very I remembered having in the area. The pasta pockets that were the egg yolk-heavy agnolotti were tender and the meats, rustic-tasting, savory and hearty. The braise was unctuous, delicious. Even the baccalà, far from a typical order for me, was enjoyable. And bonet, was terrific, even after seemingly more than enough calories by that stage. The portions were hearty, as in a generous village trattoria, but the execution more refined, befitting a what is a top restaurant city like Turin.
 
Scannabue is a trattoria with evident surety in its cooking and also with a sense of more contemporary ideas. We saw the playful and acclaimed vasocottura, rabbit cooked in a jar with a tuna sauce, carried to a few tables. I look forward to a future return for something new, or maybe just what I had. It was that good.
 
As you might expect given its proximity to the famed wine regions nearby, the vinous offerings are numerous and well-chosen, even more so than most local trattorias. I had my eyes on an eminently food-friendly Barbera from nearby that I might not find at home, but the waitress directed us to a Barbera d’Asti from Sette that proved too thin and troppo naturale for my tastes. She was certainly very knowledgeable, but like many younger sommeliers, but had more a penchant for the new, less tried and funky than I do. The list, about 800 labels, was fun to peruse with a number of neat things from more than nearby: Emidio Pepe for just 65 euros and a couple bottlings of the other cult Montepulciano d’Abruzzo producer, Valentini. And couple from Cantina Giardino, a natural wine producer in Campania that actually knows its craft, that I have quite liked in the past.
 
This is a restaurant to visit when visiting Turin, wine lover or not. It’s some more fun if you are though.
 
Scannabue
Largo Saluzzo, 25/h, 10125
Turin, Italy
scannabue.it

The Guancia Brasata al Barbera su Purea di Patate at Scannabue

When discussing heading to the Green Mill in Chicago to hear live music and maybe a few drinks in the late 1980s, my friends were quick to point out that it had been owned by Machine Gun McGurn, a legendary and legendary cruel mobster, several decades earlier. That reputation hung over place, part of its brand, and part of the draw. The mob connection has been an enticement for decades for customers, or a segment of customers, possibly lured by a sense of perceived danger, however small, the notoriety, the assumed raffishness of the spot, or even the attraction to the power of organized crime figures.
 
In an article in the Washington Post with the cheeky title, “A Real Shot in the Arm for N.Y. Eateries” in 1989 quotes a regular patron to The Bankers and Brokers Ristorante not far from his work: “The fact there's a mob shooting connected with the place does sort of add excitement…You feel like you're in the middle of it all,” referring to an organized crime shooting stemming from an incident at the restaurant, which was allegedly connected to a member of the Gambino family. That appeal was widespread and the benefit for the business was noted by Tim Zagat, “It's sad but true that shootings are good for the restaurant business….It's more publicity than a restaurant would ever get through reviews; it's worth millions.” There can be a practical side for this, as restaurants have provided more convenient settings for shootings, as it might the only public spots to find these often reclusive and armed targets. Even these Italian-Americans have had a penchant for Italian-American fare, so the place with the attendant publicity is usually Italian-themed, one of the hazards of doing business for some.
 
The best mob association for an establishment might be to have hosted a sensational murder or publicized shooting, but the appeal is also for those reputed to be mob hangouts or owned by a mobster, even once owned. There’s been quite a few of these mob-connected spots over the years, mostly in New York, where there’s been much more Italian organized crime but also Chicago and Philadelphia, and elsewhere. There is, or was, even another aspect to the appeal of mobsters at restaurants. Star critic Gael Greene, in the early years of her restaurant review column in New York magazine, wanted to check out in 1969 the thought in New York that the “Mafia is widely advanced as ‘the Michelin Guide for Italian restaurants.” Aided in her quest by a “gourmet crew of Mafia Boswells and plumpish law enforcement officers” who had “shared their personal dining guides to Mafia-starred restaurants,” she visited eight restaurants, four of which were in Little Italy, and another just blocks away, each serving familiar local takes on Southern Italian-American fare. Greene was not too impressed with these. That did not have to diminish the draw, though.

Below are a dozen of the most infamous over the years, one with a very memorable name even hosted a couple different murders decades apart.

Photo: Umberto's Clam House - Jerry Mosey/AP/Shutterstock

I’ve been an active participant in Houston Restaurant Weeks again this year. It benefits a worthwhile local charity, The Houston Food Bank, that I support and it also helps restaurants in what was once the slowest time of the year. And that’s even if it’s been my experience over the years that you will not get any restaurant’s best effort. Corners are almost always cut: offerings are limited, preparations are simpler, portions might be smaller, desserts seem have sat in the refrigerator much longer than usual, and there are often add-ons for something that most customers want, etc. I understand the need to do so and have accepted it for a while. If a restaurant impresses with a Restaurant Weeks menu, I am impressed. There are some that do.
In order of the quality of the meals, taste first then value.

Musaafer – B+ – Musaafer wins Restaurant Weeks for me once again and further confirmation that this is the best Indian restaurant in the city. A ceviche of sorts featuring lychees was as artfully presented as it was delicious, which was followed by probably the best version of butter chicken I’ve ever had that exhibited a depth of flavor I hadn’t experienced in this popular dish. It made me overlook the $4 surcharge each for accompanying naan and basmati rice, rather necessary.

Pappas Bros. Steakhouse (downtown) – B+ – My favorite of Houston’s traditional expense account steakhouses, this did not disappoint for Restaurant Weeks, as it never does, offering an impressive amount of tasty, cholesterol-laden calories led by a dry-aged Prime Strip that was actually a decent value. As a bonus, is the indulgence in its expansive wine list and enthusiastic sommeliers who guided us to a nice, very steak-complementary St. Joseph far below that average wine tariff.

Aiko – B+ – Vibrant, flavorful, well-crafted seaweed salad was followed by a crudo and handrolls that were each delicious. The attractive space was also a nice break during the workday, even if the lunch was not so filling.

Winnie’s – B+ – Playful food – jalapeño poppers and meatloaf – done better than most places, not surprising as this fun spot with a serious kitchen has always been worth visiting even when a cocktail is not in mind.

Navy Blue – B+/B – A well turned-out red oak salad with Manchego and a light pistachio vinaigrette prefaced a beautifully presented salmon filet that was a touch overcooked but in a preparation that was still quite enjoyable. It started nicely, with exceptional, crumbly, cheddar and scallion biscuits; excellent baked goods are always a hallmark of top restaurants for me, and Navy Blue is one of Houston’s tops.

Fiori – B/B+ –  At least a couple of Italians said I should give Fiori another try and be sure to have one of its Roman dishes. I finally did, and the vibrant sauce in the spaghetti All’Amatriciana did not disappoint. It more than made up for the dull fried ricotta to start.

Upper Kirby District – B – Four courses and the most food of any Restaurants Week menu started off with a terrific chicken, sausage and okra gumbo followed with a forgettable, simple roll then some juicy, crispy fried chicken wings straight from the fryer coupled with cold Belgian waffles but finished with a neat peach cobbler. Uneven but the highs made it quite enjoyable.

Late August – B – This engaging newish spot in the Ion at the edge of Midtown, a sibling of Lucille’s, that highlights products from their farm near Sugar Land, offered a creative take on the Caesar and fun, crispy octopus preparation that showed a preview some of the appealing things that the kitchen can do.

Ostia – B – A better deal than most, with a good-sized Caesar – a common order for me for this – and one of their full-sized pizzas. Though their on the margherita wasn’t has tasty as the couple others I’ve had there, it was still pretty good.

Carrabba’s (Kirby) – B – The fried calamari with a tangy, lemony and piquant dipping sauce and the richly dressed house salad along with recently baked, crusty bread was good enough for me for the simple, soft pasta with an Alfredo-like sauce with strips of discordant roasted chicken to affect my opinion. Being served quickly and capably, as always there, helped, also.

Da Gama – B/B- – The patty was overcooked a little to my taste in my Lamb Kofta Burger, and the attractive if single-fried fries were well served with an accented mayonnaise to dip in, and I enjoyed the nut-heavy gulab jamen after. This stylish Indian spot is a favorite and even having to ask the waitstaff three times for an HRW menu could diminish a visit much.

PS21 – B- – The croutons were not crunchy, but their take on the Caesar salad with a mustard accent was decent enough. The day’s quiche featured a soft crust that was not what it had been in the past for me there, but the crispy fries were tasty, even if the side of oddly ineptly made mayonnaise that was not quite fully emulsified did not satisfy as much as usual.

Picos – C+ – A duo of noticeably tasty salsas with the chips start a meal here, but both dishes were a little too gloppy. The Nachos Jorge, that are topped with the cochinita pibil, were seemingly not stewed enough and certainly not flavorful enough, just like during a visit last month. And the spinach enchiladas were in a hearty cream sauce that was a little too hearty, though it was all an impressive amount of calories on the plates for a lunchtime.

La Fisheria – C – Dull-tasting ceviche featuring very softly-textured cubes of fishes started the meal. This  followed by decent Tex-Mex-style quesadillas oddly served in a little oval skillet with some thick ridges, and finished with very dull cake that likely had been occupying refrigerator space for a while. And all with ingredients that were far from the best. Unfortunately, this visit reminded me why I hadn’t been here for a while.

At Navy Blue the other day; more attractive than the last salmon dish I made at home.

Wine comes to mind when dining at Italian, and French, restaurants, more so than with other cuisines. With the exception of some inexpensive sandwich and by-the-slice pizza joints, wine is, and has always been, an important part at Italian restaurants in this country – with the possible exception of the dark days of Prohibition, though even then at many, or most. This is because wine was a fundamental, and often needed component, of the daily table of the Italians who emigrated. Wine has been drunk throughout the Italian peninsula, and almost wherever grapevines grew in Europe, for well over a couple of thousand years as an activity of daily life. Largely because the “consumption of wine in the main European winemaking countries was part of the everyday diet largely because it was an important part of the caloric intake necessary to perform work activities,” noted an academic survey, A History of Wine in Europe, 19th to 20th Centuries.
 
That expectation for wine extended to life in America for those coming from Italy, even the calories provided by it was no longer as needed. Viewed almost as a liquid dish, wine had always been served at meals in Italy and continued in the new country. “Wine is food as well as drink to the Italian people,” as a piece in the New York Daily Tribune observed in 1904. It was on the table in Italy and was always found at Italian restaurants in the new country, even if the wine might not have been made nearby as in the home country. That wine served in American restaurants might have been imported from Italy or, more so, shipped from California, which was cheaper.
 
Though wine was expected by the Italians arriving on the shores, the eventual home-grown customers were less versed in the fruits of the vine. Wine was not part of the culture of the United States as it was in the wine-producing countries of Europe. In the U.S., for most of its history until recent decades, wine was the province of the more well-to-do and more sophisticated, as wine was not a widespread agriculture product and not nearly as ubiquitous. Wine was a staple for Italians, somewhat of a luxury for Americans.
 
Before Prohibition…
 
The wine offerings at Italian restaurants were rather limited compared to today in the years leading up to Prohibition, and well afterwards, for that matter. Most were humble table d’hôte establishments with a significant portion of the clientele the recent arrivals from Italy, until recently, peasants or laborers for whom wine was not much more than a requisite part of the meal. These customers were certainly not that fussy about the wine, as long as it was mostly palatable. Wine was almost necessarily included in the price at Italian table d’hôte restaurants, and all Italian restaurants then had a table d’hôte option. Though these have long gone out of fashion in favor of the a la carte menus, table d’hôte was a common type of restaurant and option before the Second World War where a multi-course meal, with no or a very limited of choices, was served at a fixed price.

A New York paper reporting about Italian restaurants in 1905 wrote that the wine “is mainly from California” and “often served with seltzer.” About a decade later, at the popular Buon Gusto in San Francisco, a customer was “served a pint of good table wine” as part of a six-course dinner for fifty cents – a feast for all of $16 in 2024 currency – and this was typical throughout San Francisco, New York and elsewhere.
 
As the grape varieties in the eastern part of country would not yield an acceptable product, that table d’hôte wine and all the most inexpensive wines came from California, sometimes shipped in bulk and bottled at the restaurant. Those might be around 40 cents, less than $10 in 2024, if purchased by the bottle or quart. The nicest domestic bottlings like Tipo, from Italian Swiss Colony in Asti, California, were a $1 a bottle at restaurants, around $30 today.
 
The wines that were imported from Europe were a little sturdier than the young wines that most of the immigrants had consumed at home. These had to last the trip and some additional lag before consumption, and more was to be made from exporting the better wines. These were from the more well-established wineries and regions: Asti Spumante, Barolo and an earlier spelling of Nebbiolo, Nebiolo, which was sometimes spumante, from Piedmont; Chianti in a couple hues from Tuscany; and the once-famous Lacrima Christi from the slopes of Mount Vesuvius – that in red, white, and sparkling in both red and white. The better Italian restaurants also served a fair number of wines from France, Germany and sometimes Spain. These imported wines were usually identified by the negociant rather than the producer, unlike today. Renganeschi in Manhattan had about forty wines on its list in 1916, the noted Guffanti’s, about seventy, each ranging from about nine or ten dollars to $130 in 2024 dollars, the most expensive being from Champagne, labels that are still popular today, Veuve Clicquot, Charles Heidsieck, Pommery. The Champagne region has always found a home at the nicest Italian restaurants, as in the nicest restaurants almost anywhere.
 
During Prohibition…
 
Though Italian restaurateurs thought Prohibition ridiculous and a serious threat to business, nearly all carried on, the popular Gonfarone in lower Manhattan being an exception, shuttering at its onset with the inability to serve wine legally. Wine was still served in most, though, if not so legally. Wine continued to be made, largely by non-professionals, with grapes being shipped from California to points east for manufacture. This home winemaking was not actually lawful; it’s illegality was just not enforced, and local municipalities sometimes even issued permits for it. The demand for grapes, especially from Italians, for this created a boom in grape growing causing an increase in acreage devoted to it by over 23,000 acres in California from the advent of Prohibition through 1924 and peaking in 1926. By mid-decade, the country was consuming about 150 millions gallons of the amateurs’ output. That often ended up in the dining rooms of Italian restaurants; likely not having to travel very far. The most popular grape traveling to the eastern cities was the thick-skinned, attractive and dark-juiced Alicante Bouschet, that made a mediocre wine, at its best, usually worse, as wines were also made after the initial press. But it was wine.
 
And the wine was available. A news service sketch of lower Manhattan in 1929, nearly a decade with Prohibition, describes the area around Eighth and Fourth streets with “Italian restaurants where the wine, if young, is still wine.” Around that time in Chicago, a guidebook describes that the “obscure little restaurants and other similar places all over town, and some not so obscure, that have about as much respect for the Eighteenth Amendment as the eminent Mr. Capone has,” so that “you ought at least to find Dago Red. In case you're more fortunate, however, and come upon a wide assortment of table wines.” Joe Marchetti of the Como Inn, also in the Windy City, recalled years later: ”We had a lot of great years during Prohibition. You could get a glass of wine if you had to have one. What`s an Italian meal without wine?”
 
There was some risk in this, but the rewards seemed to outweigh these by a ways. At least two of the most well-known and highly regarded Italian restaurants in Manhattan were successfully raided by Prohibition agents to some notoriety. Guffanti’s, the first time in early 1922 when agents were able to purchase a quart of wine for a very steep $5. A certainly better bottle of Tipo red was $1 before the Volstead Act. A couple of years later, agents found alcohol there valued at an estimated $100,000 – that’s $1.6 million in 2024. In 1930, a squad of Prohibition agents, search warrant in hand, descended on Leone's – eventually known as Mamma Leone’s – “during the peak of the dinner rush-hour…seized $5,000 worth of wines, whiskies and liqueurs, and arrested Joseph Leone and his brother Celestine, two of the three proprietors, and three waiters,” and startling customers, “many to hurry away, some leaving their dinners untouched.” That wine and other intoxicants were served was widely known and somewhat protected as “admission to the restaurant is by card only” and it was recognized that Leone’s “numbers among its patrons some of the best known professional people in the country.” The raid on Leone’s was caused by a complaint by its neighbor, a Methodist church. Leone’s later purchased the church’s property, demolishing it for expansion in the 1940s. As for Guffanti’s proprietor, Joseph Guffanti, he died in 1929 with an estate valued at a million dollars, not all it from the proceeds of the restaurant.
 
A great many throughout the country still felt the need for some alcohol when out for an evening meal during the 1920s and into the 1930s. “Prohibition, with its lackluster speakeasy cuisine, had led many diners to investigate small foreign restaurants,” according to Michael and Ariane Batterberry in On the Town in New York, their historical survey of dining there. And those foreign restaurants were largely Italian, both in New York and elsewhere. Somewhat ironically, for such a wine-inducive cuisine during Prohibition, “as their prices remained within reason, the popularity of these little restaurants was cemented permanently by the Depression,” that carried on after drinking became legal again.

After Prohibition for many years…
 
The misguided experiment that was Prohibition help to destroy the domestic wine industry and also help to alter, ruin, American palates about wine. The wines made during those years were with far less skill than before and later, largely in basements and warehouses, not in wineries. It was also nearly entirely red. Vineyards in California were devoted to lesser grapes like the Alicante Bouschet – there was not much Cabernet Sauvignon, Zinfandel and Chardonnay planted, with only 7,000 acres of white in the state by the early 1930s – and the taste of wine consumers was toward the inexpensive fortified wines, the poor person’s spirits. These were sold at a ratio of five to one when alcoholic beverages became legal again. Most of those with more disposable income drank mostly cocktails. Just after Prohibition, Americans consumed just over a quart of wine per person. In Italy, 24 gallons were consumed per person – that’s over 90 times more than Americans drank on average. Then the French, who were at their thirstiest at almost 40 gallons and continuing a spree that seemed to begin with the Armistice. It was not until 1967 did the per capita wine consumption in the U.S. hit one gallon. After repeal, three-quarters of the wine was sold in just five states: California, Louisiana, New Jersey, New York, and Michigan, all with large Catholic populations. And American’s were consuming wines that still largely sweeter at that point, not the best accompaniments to the dinner.
 
Italian restaurants began to stock wines again legally in the 1930s, sometimes including those sugary- and different-tasting wines likes Virginia Dare. The lists resumed similar outlines to that before 1920, with better lists in New York and San Francisco, as before, but generally shorter. Wine offerings might not have returned to the breadth of those pre-Prohibition years until maybe the 1980s at most Italian restaurants. Americans still were not big wine drinkers for decades. Piero Selvaggio commented about the early days of his landmark Valentino restaurant that “the few people that drank wine took us by surprise.” It was still the days of cocktails. The order was usually “the martini…in the 1970s that was what people drank with a meal…three of them was standard,” something much more American than Italian. And not the most ideal complement to the food.
 
Things would eventually improve concerning wine at Italian restaurants.

Renganeschi's Saturday Night by John Sloan, 1912 - Art Institute of Chicago