Italian-American restaurants are simple. They’re not known for their freewheeling interpretations of classics or elegantly composed small plates; instead, they’re cultural treasures famous for adherence to tradition, having provided unfussy nourishment to New Yorkers since the early 20th century. They’re places where the marinara is cooked until it’s as crimson as a fire engine and where a chef’s visual style is best described as “make sure the food fits on the plate.”

The point of a red sauce joint is not to surprise, but to sate, which is what makes Don Angie in the West Village such a curious outlier. It does both. Chefs Angie Rito and Scott Tacinelli make their own amari, not out of obscure bitter herbs but rather out of sarsaparilla (it tastes like boozy root beer). They crust chicken scarpariello with a layer of fennel sausage and serve it sliced, giving it the appearance of an elegant French terrine.