Dante’s West Village Lives Up to the Hype (and More)

It’s the most Roman thing in the world for me to get lost on the way to a restaurant that has multiple locations. My friends joke about it — if there’s more than one, I’ll always end up at the wrong one unless someone specifies. And true to form, I headed to Dante on MacDougal Street instead of the West Village location. No matter, I needed the extra steps anyway.

Walking into Dante’s West Village, the vibe hit right away. The space adopts a French café aesthetic, featuring copper accents and antique, slightly faded glass that exudes an old-world polish. But don’t let the look fool you — the kitchen is all Italian spirit, and the wood-fired grill is the star. You can smell it as soon as you walk in, smoke drifting through the room in a way that’s warm and inviting.
We were seated at the communal table near the fire, close enough to watch chickens slowly roasting. A fair warning: if you’ve got asthma or are sensitive to smoke, request a seat elsewhere. HVAC can only do so much when the doors are open to the fall air.
The crowd was stylish — not formal, but definitely dressed up a notch. I was underdressed, as usual, but didn’t care. Seating on the terrace is prime for people-watching, although I prefer facing my dinner companions rather than the street.

The Food

We started with the bread and butter, kissed by the fire and perfectly charred on the edges. Simple, rustic, and a must-order. The antipasto board came next, and while it looks pricey, it’s easily shareable for four. Pro tip: take the whipped butter from the bread, add a drizzle of honey, and top it with one of the soft cheeses from the board. Game changer.

For mains, the pork chop was thick, smoky, and cooked just right. The skirt steak was equally solid, kissed with fire, and paired with a light salad. Both delivered. The surprise hit of the night? The burger with beets. I’ll admit, when I first heard it came topped with beets, I rolled my eyes. But honestly? It worked. The beets added a subtle sweetness and acidity that cut through the fat and cheese, creating a balanced, almost refreshing bite. It even looked dramatic — beet juice running down like blood, but in a good way. A top 10 contender in my burger rankings.

The only mistake: I didn’t order fries. The burger came with fingerling potatoes, which were fine, but I wanted crispy fries to dunk in those sauces (jalapeño was killer). My fault for not reading the menu closely.
We wrapped with tiramisu and cheesecake, both solid finishes. Not overly heavy, just enough sweetness to cap things off.

Drinks

Dante’s martini game is legendary, and they back it up with a martini happy hour. I ordered the classic Dante’s Martini — clean, bold, and served with perfect olives. This alone is worth coming back for.

Banana Juice Theory Moment

Here’s where the banana juice theory comes in (see my first post on it for the backstory). The theory is simple: there’s always one detail in a great dining experience that doesn’t quite land, not enough to ruin it, but enough to stand out. At Dante’s, that moment was the missing fries. Burgers and fries are a love story, and fingerlings just don’t play the same role. That small gap didn’t sink the meal, but it left me thinking about what could’ve been. Sometimes the “banana juice” is about what’s missing, not what’s there.

Verdict

Dante’s West Village isn’t just hype; it’s a place I’ll happily add to my quarterly rotation. The food is fire-kissed and thoughtful, the drinks are sharp, and the vibe is effortlessly stylish. Yes, I’ll probably still show up at the wrong location again, but hey, that’s just part of the tradition.

Look, I’m just a Fat Guy from Brooklyn giving you my two cents. If you want more Top 10s—steakhouses, burgers, restaurants, you name it—click the words and keep going.