Butler Street, Lawrenceville
The pepper crusted lard, shaved translucently thin onto a crostini melts when you breath on it. So damn good it’s worth begging my wife’s forgiveness after I stick my d*ck in it. This is not to say I’d swipe right on their homemade pasta or pizza either. Last tip: Don’t pass up the adjacent Grapperia—the establishment’s sister joint—while you wait. Piccolo Forno does not take reservations, so swill while you chill.