Profile

Tony’s long, tomato-red awning spans more than half the block and makes a fittingly expansive introduction to the restaurant, where mammoth family-style portions defy the appetites of even the fastest growing teens. Ravioli squares are the size of cocktail napkins, wine glasses are filled to overflowing, and generous sides of marinara come in soup bowls. The kitchen turns out fried and cheesy favorites, from calamari to eggplant parmigiana, in servings better meant for two to three people. Most sauces err on the buttery side, but Tony’s does manage to nail the tangy, lemony Caesar salad dressing. Entrées, designed to please noisy crowds looking for a filling meal, are good enough: for example,  paper-thin cuts of the Milanese classic veal piccata, doused in a creamy sauce, makes for a reasonably satisfying if not remarkable plate of food. And there’s real ease in Tony’s burnished confidence: Red-and-white checked tablecloths, ample green-leather bench seats, and mural of a red race car zooming past some charming Italian seaside town—it’s Naples via the New York cliché machine, and its own kind of comfort. — Kate Appleton

Caesar salad, $16.95; veal piccata, $23.95; tiramisu, $7