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More than a few of Little Italy's generations-old red-sauce joints hawk limp, bland pasta to throngs of unadventurous tourists, day-trippers, and junior media planners. But Angelos—slinging the scungilli since 1902—doesn't coast on its reputation. Indeed, it offers the full Little-Italy-via-Naples treatment—sidewalk hubbub, boisterous large parties, kiss-kiss maitre d', and theatrically rushed gold-jacketed waiters decanting wine. The main dining room's commotion enlivens the forgettable décor, while small tables in murky, brick-walled rear sections cater to those who don't want their romantic or business conversations overheard. The surprise is that Angelo's pan-Italian food is actually quite impressive: It's copious, attentively cooked, and sprightly seasoned, and, simply, it tastes fresh. Even a few Manhattanites can be seen tucking into Angelo's al dente housemade pastas, blanketed in thick, garlicky, Neapolitan sauces with off-the-vine tomato chunks; flavorful, well-cut steaks with portobellos deliciously simmered in sweet red wine, Tuscan-style; or lemony grilled swordfish with capers alla Venezia. Should your out-of-town clients, colleagues, or cousins clamor for dinner in Little Italy, Angelo will make you feel more like a restaurant insider than a trapped tourist. — Karen Tina Harrison

Fried zucchini, $7.50; pappardelle with mushroom, garlic and tomato, $21; filet mignon in port wine, $32.50