Delenio
357 7th St.
(201) 798-9539
deleniojc.com
Owner Jay Gitlin comes to the restaurant business by way of the bar business. He’d been managing bars and bartending for a while when he decided to open his first restaurant, right here in JC. He was surprised to discover that there was a big difference between dining and drinking. “You work more, you work more hours,” he says. “So much more goes into food prep than into a whiskey sour.”
His homemade Italian specialties are a testament to that hard work and careful food preparation.
How did this Brooklyn native end up in Jersey City? “In Staten Island, there are a ton of Italian restaurants,” he says, “and Brooklyn and Manhattan are expensive,” which led him to Brunswick and 7th in Jersey City.
“I liked the neighborhood,” he says. “It’s up-and-coming and inexpensive. I liked the feel of it.”
His vision for the restaurant? “I wanted it to be a comfortable place, casual, not uptight, with the good food you could get at home but don’t have time to cook, the kind that Grandma would make for you. Everything’s made to order, right then and there.”
Delenio offers fresh mozzarella and makes its own bread crumbs and croutons. “We try to buy as little as possible,” Gitlin says. “Our Brooklyn thin-crust pizza is really nice. We use high-quality fresh ingredients, cheese from Wisconsin, Italian San Marzano tomatoes. I wouldn’t give anybody anything that I wouldn’t give myself. It’s the best that’s out there.”
I can attest to that. When Alyssa and I visited on a weekday, morning, Gitlin received a delivery of fresh shellfish and seafood from Toms River, reminding us that fish, in particular, needs to be super fresh. Atop the box were ice-packed clams, just off the dock. Linguini and clams anyone?
Gitlin has family members in the business. His sister runs the Dead Rabbit Grocery and Grog in Manhattan, known for its award-winning cocktails. Gitlin’s business partner, Peter Stella, is married to that sister. “He’s a professional chef who went to culinary school and taught me everything,” Gitlin says.
Though Gitlin has a chef, he says, “I’ve become a really good cook.” Indeed, when we were there, pots were boiling and bubbling on the stove. We spotted spaghetti sauce, mashed potatoes, pizzas ready for the oven and stacks of fresh bread.
Delenio does a robust business in delivery and catering. “We can do parties of up to 50 people,” he says, “engagement parties, showers, christenings, you name it. We even catered a wedding.”
The clientele “comes from everywhere,” Gitlin says, citing such far-flung destinations as Boston, the Midwest, and California.
But obviously, most customers are local. “It’s a really friendly neighborhood,” he says. “If somebody gets pregnant, I will know that kid eight years later. We’re friendly with everybody.”
A big source of local customers is McNair Academic right up the block. During its lunch hour, high-school kids pour into the place. Folks from JCTV, the Port Authority, and the fire department are also loyal patrons.
With Gitlin’s background in the bar business, don’t be surprised if Delenio might have a bar in its future with “really good sliders, bar pies, really simple good stuff,” Gitlin says.
That pretty much sums up Delenio—past, present, and future.
DeCarlos Bespoke
411 Monmouth St.
(201) 216-0770
info@decarlosbespoke.com
The word “tailor,” which appears on his storefront window, hardly describes the artistry of menswear designer DeCarlos Morse. Walk into his shop at 411 Monmouth, and you feel like you’re inhabiting past, present, and future all at once.
There is a moment frozen in time when Lyndon Johnson, in his dress coat and fedora, looked shockingly old next to the dashing JFK. The Camelot Prez bagged the fedora because he had great hair, but never the suit.
Morse seems to love a time between the 1930s and 1950s, before Woodstock and the Summer of Love, when men wore stylish suits.
Antiques in the shop include leather suitcases from that era perched on a bale of hay, a set of golf clubs, a turntable, a bunch of fedoras, a silk smoking robe, a door knocker etched with the name “Morse,” and many other evocative pieces.
But Morse is also solidly of his time. Sitting in the shop on a warmish February morning, with the smell of sage wafting through the room, we talk about the 21st century suit. Who’s wearing a suit when billionaires like Mark Zuckerberg are wearing hoodies and jeans?
As it turns out, lots of people, and—like eating snails—much of it has to do with trying it for the first time.
“When the suit is completed, something comes over them,” Morse says. “It’s like they’re chasing their tail and turning in circles. It feels so good that they want to walk out with the suit on, even if they have nowhere to go but home.”
The three occasions where men wear suits are job interviews, weddings, and funerals, but there will always be men who want to wear a bespoke suit on a regular basis.
Morse is dressed in dapper-casual, with a tape measure around his neck and a thimble on his finger. Turns out that his mother loved beautiful clothes, and he inherited that love, growing up in Charlottesville, Virginia. “We dressed every day,” he says. “My family knew how to make clothing. My mother shopped at Wiley’s, buying expensive clothes on sale. We had nothing but nice clothes.”
The shop, which has virtually no street traffic, is filled with bolts of cloth, a wall of colorful threads, and some 40 books of swatches, which he keeps in an old wooden canoe.
Among the fabrics are grays, blues, herringbone, pinstripes, tweeds, seersucker, and something with the wonderful name of windowpane, which is a pattern of squares made from widely-spaced pinstripes. He makes trousers, two-and-three-breasted jackets, and his signature “Monument Blue Suit” and “country” vest.
A suit jacket in the making, with basting stitches still evident, is “relaxing” on a mannequin. Like a fine tea, a bespoke suit needs to steep, taking six to eight weeks to finish.
Morse does not negotiate price, viewing his custom-made creations as “investments.”
Words like “timeless” and “classic” hover over our conversation, and he refers to his fashionable watch as a “timepiece.” But he has a practical side, too. If your shoes don’t quite fit with your elegant suit, “buff” them.
The future is embodied in the notion that in 2016, it still looks as if Jay Gatsby might sashay through the door at any moment. But because the brand is classic, this charming shop will still be selling the bespoke suit 50 years down the line.—Kate Rounds