Dining at Lilia, Where the Patrons May or May Not Be Famous

But the food certainly should be.

Lilia
567 Union Ave.
Williamsburg
Open since: 2015
Price: $$$
What to order: Mafaldini, sheep's milk stuffed agnolloti, delicata squash, the "Italian Job" gelato
Jeff's Rating: 9.3/10 (I swear they won't all be this high)

A top pasta restaurant in the city, without question.

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“How did he get a reservation?” I heard this from at least five different people when I mentioned that my roommate Josh had secured a table at one of Williamsburg’s hottest restaurants for his birthday. To be honest, I previously had never heard of Lilia, but it turns out I’ve been extremely out of the loop. Not only were my friends impressed by Josh’s reservation skills, but the ones who had been there raved about the food.

With my lack of coolness firmly established, here’s what I’ve gathered from those in the know: it’s always been crowded, and it’s been considered one of the best pasta places in the city since it opened (three stars from the Times!), but the Lilia love has gone into overdrive ever since Kim Kardashian and Pete Davidson dined there for Valentine’s Day this year in one of the many electrified yurts set up in front of the restaurant during the pandemic. And while Josh’s birthday party headed towards Lilia on this particular night for the food, with this in mind we couldn’t help being on celebrity watch.

It’s a Wednesday night at 7:55, and thanks to Josh I’m on time for a change. The streets are quiet in Williamsburg – most of the hipsters have gone home to get ready for an early shift at the kombucha store tomorrow. It’s already dark, and we see the glow of the yurts from a block away. No sign of Kim and Pete though.

Lilia stands on the corner of 10th and Union, a nondescript white brick building concealing a warm, dim, interior that reminded me vaguely of a firelit cabin on a snowy evening. A pleasant, musky scent briefly overwhelms the senses upon entering. We’re right on time for our 8:00 reservation, and the hostess tells us it will be just a moment.

I take a look around. The deep main dining room focuses on a long bar/counter where patrons can sit and observe bartenders mix their cocktails and chefs cook their food, the latter of which seems to be at a methodical pace and involves a large brick oven of some sort (there’s no pizza on the menu, so my companions and I were left wondering what purpose this device served). Exposed rafters line the ceiling, with studio lighting pointed towards them as if to say “look at what we’ve done with the place.” Light from the street spills in through large, factory style windows onto an array of four-top tables sitting on the far wall, a gentrifying interior designer’s paradise.  A member of the waitstaff pulls a bottle of red from the millions sitting on the shelves overhanging the bar and shows it off to a curious customer. Closer to me, the wine on the shelves is replaced by thick white cookbooks for sale – these, appropriately, entitled Pasta.

“Can I interest you in a cocktail while you wait?” It’s been about five minutes now, and the hostess extends a menu apologetically. I’ve (foolishly?) decided not to drink anything in the month of March, but my friends take a look at the options.

Our eyes carry back towards the entryway as a woman enters. “Hey, that’s Sue Bird,” say’s Josh’s friend Ryan. And so it is. Four-time WNBA Champion, twelve-time all-star, the only woman to win championships in three decades, and widely considered to be the greatest of all time in the league. Sue takes a seat at a table in the corner while we continue to wait. Celebrity watch has gone into high alert. “Hey, I know that guy too!” Ryan is on a roll, and we all glance back at the front door. “That’s my friend Lizzie’s brother.” Not as cool, Ryan.

We finally get seated about 20 minutes past the reservation time, and the staff gives us a free round of drinks as a peace offering. Negronis, gin & tonics, and boulevardiers for my friends, and some green tea for me – my dry month of March seems sillier by the minute. We’re seated right next to Sue Bird, who’s perched in the midst of a cadre of Brooklyn celebrities: Desus Nice of Showtime’s Desus & Mero talk show, Hollywood actor Yahya Abdul Mateen II, podcast producer and JJ Redick co-host Tommy Alter (JJ was nowhere to be found), and a man whom we could not yet identify but who certainly had some famous friends.

As we begin to peruse the menu and try not to let our eyes drift over to the adjacent table, we realize Ryan never got his free drink. Our waiter notices the same, so the restaurant gives us another round on the house. Our table is now riddled with glasses of various colors and shapes. I contemplate my choices as I sip my green tea. “Dude, I think that’s Nick Jonas at the end of the bar.” Ryan has gone into overdrive, and the rest of us quickly talk him back into his senses. The combination of hunger and alcohol has turned him to borderline delirium, and celebrities begin to appear around every corner.

Finally, the food.

First come the appetizers. Allow me to introduce you to the cacio e pepe frittelle, an elevated take on a fried risotto ball. Our forks cut right through the soft breading into a creamy cheese filling that disappears far sooner than we'd like. Two vegetable dishes counterbalance and compliment the decadent frittelle. The squash is a standout – it comes with a walnut parsley pesto that provides a rich body but doesn’t take away from the natural taste of the squash: warm and bright, almost citrus-like, an explosion of flavor that hits me like a car. Broccoli with parmesan cheese and chili oil comes next. It’s cooked perfectly, with white cheese and yellow lemon peels sprinkled over a bed of verdant stems, contrasting visually but coming together for a bold flavor profile. While we certainly would not be lacking for carbs during this meal, we also order the toasted garlic bread, which comes with freshly made mozzarella sliced and laid gracefully on top. Though a bit salty for my taste, it doesn’t disappoint my tablemates.

We barely finish our first course when the entrée pastas arrive. If Lilia is famous for one dish, it’s the sheep’s cheese agnolotti, and we’re all interested in diving into this one first. Delicate pillows of pasta burst open with cheese upon pressure from our forks. Decadence again rules the day here, as the creamy stuffing is accentuated by thinly sliced sun-dried tomatoes and a drizzle of honey, each of which actually serve to cut the heaviness of the filling with their sweetness. And then, the finisher, a slight spice that manifests itself slowly, carefully, in the back of the throat after each bite.

Next comes the fettuccini, our meat dish, with lamb sausage in Lilia’s take on a classic red sauce. The lamb is tasty and fatty, but, as esteemed food critic Gucci Mane would say, it becomes a bit “lost in the sauce,” with a combo of pasta and tomato puree carrying the dish. The noodles themselves are cooked al dente in the best meaning of the word, and I quickly see why Chef Missy Robbins calls her cookbook “Pasta”: the noodles speak for themselves.  

Parmesan spaghetti makes an appearance as well, and it tastes splendid from the few bites I have (someone did not want join in on the sharing situation tonight). And, finally, my favorite: the mafaldini, a flat and wide ribbon-shaped pasta sprinkled with pink peppercorn and parmesan. Elegantly simple, pasta in its purest form, the ribbons capture the ground pepper and cheese for a consistent flavor in each bite.

This adventure isn’t over. It’s Josh’s birthday after all, and out come the desserts (complete with lit candles, of course). After the customary birthday song, we dig in to a solid, if unremarkable, olive oil cake with whipped cream. Ryan passes around an espresso with cream and sambuca for everyone to take a sip, and the tasty licorice-coffee combination would certainly be an eye-opener for anyone who dared to drink the whole cup. But if there’s one dessert to get at Lilia, it’s the “Italian Job,” a Frankenstein creation of vanilla gelato and layers of olive oil. For any skeptics, I can only urge you to try it.

Josh wants one more present for his birthday. “I’m going to ask Sue Bird to take a picture of us.” What? This makes no sense on its face, and we urge the birthday boy to reconsider. Josh is intractable, but as he leaves to use the restroom, the rest of us sneak out the front door and into the chilly Brooklyn night. Through Lilia’s large windows, we then witness what could only be described as magic. Josh walks up to Sue Bird and immediately becomes her best friend. Smiles are exchanged. Laughter ensues. He’s running the table. Josh points out the window, and a hand jolts up and waves at us. We’re flabbergasted.

As we reenter the restaurant, we hear Josh joking that he’ll see Tommy Alter in Las Vegas next weekend and exchanging emails with the mystery man, who turns out to be the owner of the restaurant, Sean Feeney. Yahya, fresh off his role as Morpheus in the new Matrix movie, calls Josh his new “favorite person,” and the rest of us can only shake our heads at this surprising turn of events. Shortly thereafter, we exit and make our way down tree-lined streets, back to the L train and back to Manhattan.

Looks like Josh will have an easier time getting a reservation from now on.