New Yorkers are Raving About Lady Gaga’s Father’s Italian Restaurant
Named after a family member, Joanne’s is a trattoria located on West 68th, positioned on the downtown side of the street and just below a few stone steps.
The establishment is owned by Joe Germanotta, who happens to be Lady Gaga’s father.
It’s quite small—my kitchen is bigger. The steps lead up to the bar, followed by two congested rooms filled with patrons. Customers were packed in so tightly they were nearly bumping into light fixtures. Donald Trump’s inaugural event was less cramped. Behind a curtain, there’s another intimate VIP room featuring a wooden table, likely reserved for Gaga, had she not been busy rehearsing for “SNL.”
On the menu were pasta, meatballs, salad, and wine. Delicious, but don’t expect a presentation worthy of a magazine cover.
The space was packed to the brim with revelers. A drag queen in all-black attire flitted about, squealing and shrieking, to the delight of the predominantly female audience. Billy Joel performing at Madison Square Garden couldn’t compare to this excitement. Joe, an outspoken advocate for gay rights, mentioned, “This was meant to be a listening party for Gaga’s new album ‘Mayhem.’ All we did was post about it on social media.”
Among my fellow VIP diners was a trans individual who organizes events in China and is now collaborating with Joe on a series of lucrative drag nights, magic shows, and amateur specials. “Business declined after the pandemic,” Joe noted. “We were worried. Now, thanks to these special events, we’re swamped every night.”
Two women decorated our table, their low-cut tops dropping below their sneakers.
All I know is that Joe Germanotta has released his own cookbook. Joanne Trattoria is bustling each night, and he’s present every evening.
On a positive note
I’ve received letters, some beginning with “Dear Stupid”:
Barbara writes to say her husband recently passed away and “would love to see a mention of this in your column.” Okay.
Marty asks, “My father was a Tammany Hall leader in the ’40s. Did you know Ed Loughlin?” Nope.
Rose from Carmel shares, “I’m praying for the sweetest lady.” Ohhh, thank you! I was worried she meant Pelosi.
Jim from Chicago writes, “Glad to see you’re back on your feet, Cindy.” Ohh, thank you!
I can’t believe they’re all being nice. I’m used to being pelted with tomatoes.
Doris Rose shares, “You make my day every time I read your column.”
Staten Island Chuck sent me three handwritten pages detailing exactly what 19 vitamins, tonics, pills, oils, and powders I should take daily.
Oy! The pork was chopped
I’ve struck up friendships with every NYC police commissioner since Prohibition’s Jimmy Walker. We’ve celebrated together, conducted raids, and they’ve visited my home, providing me with special VIP ID cards.
Recently, I was at Due restaurant, located between 79th and 80th on Third Avenue. The manager, Ernesto, informed me he once served Jessica Tisch “fusilli with radicchio and pancetta.” He scribbled this on a torn piece of white paper. Realizing this piece of information was more exciting than Zelensky’s tailor’s name, I printed it. Oy. I later learned she is kosher. No pancetta was consumed!
So if I end up in chains, kindly just send me a salad.
Joe Germanotta remarked, “There are more important things in life than money — but they won’t go out with you if you’re broke.”
Just mumblings from New York, kids, only in New York.
