Edoardo’s Trattoria
Chef Edoardo Erazo takes his talents to Long Island
There’s a stretch of Church Street in Tribeca that’s particularly bleak. By my count, about a quarter of the storefronts are empty. Those that are not empty include a mediocre pizza counter called Little Italy Pizza (located well outside the confines of Little Italy), a dreary Subway sandwich franchise (blech), and two bodegas right next door to one another. Until a recent crackdown on unlicensed cannabis sales, there were no fewer than three vape shops in the one-block area.
Vape shops are notorious for juvenile graphic design—that awful marriage of tattoo fonts and stoner iconography—and these did not disappoint. While Y.O.L.O Exotics & Vapes scored points with its psychedelic swirls and lazy reference to “420,” I think Tribeca Vibez edged out the win with its use of a “z” to form the plural noun.
“Vibez” indeed.
It wasn’t always like this. Just a handful of years ago, this same stretch of Church Street featured a small, family-owned Italian restaurant with a cheery yellow-and-white canopy out front, sheltering Tribeca’s most discerning foodies as they dined al fresco on fresh, authentic Italian fare. The place was Sole di Capri, and it was my favorite restaurant in New York City.
The interior was tiny, cramped—its mere 400 square feet largely occupied by an open galley kitchen running along the southern wall and a deli-style display refrigerator that some patrons would literally rub shoulders with. In the southeast corner, a cast-iron spiral staircase led to the second “floor,” which was really just a narrow catwalk leading to a you’re-in-Manhattan sized bathroom.
I loved the space. To me, the close quarters only added to the charm. But whether you liked the squeeze or not, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the food. The food was exceptional.
I found Sole di Capri when my former law firm seconded me to the New York City Law Department’s downtown office to hone my deposition skills in the high-stakes world of sidewalk slip-and-falls. On my first day, I went looking for a lunch spot in the unfamiliar (to me) areas of Civic Center and Tribeca. I found Sole di Capri in the best way—no Yelp, no Google Maps, just stumbled in.
It appeared to be a one-man operation. The chef came out from the kitchen, showed me to my table, and rattled off the day’s specials in a thick accent that sat somewhere between the Mediterranean and Medellín. I ordered the “Linguine Grotta Verde”: fresh linguine sautéed with citrus, herbs, olives, and garlic, and dusted with Parmigiano. I’m no food writer, so I’ll keep it simple: it was the freshest, most delicious pasta I’d ever tasted. I had left the office expecting to find nothing more than a forgettable turkey sandwich, and there I was having one of the best Italian meals of my life. And the kicker? $10.95.
I went back nearly every day of my secondment and spent the next several years taking as many people as I could—friends, colleagues, dates, whomever. Every meal at Sole di Capri was world-class—the kind of meals where each bite stops you in your tracks and, if you’ll pardon me, elicits moans. The prices were low. The specials were mouthwatering. And every visit, no matter the day, no matter the hour, the head chef, Edoardo, was there, hard at work in the kitchen and at the tables. He never took a day off, and neither, it seemed, did his wife, Amparo, who always settled my bill with a smile and a warm farewell. Over the years, I showed my face enough to get on first-name terms with Edoardo and Amparo. I was in.
I moved to California shortly before the pandemic, and when I visited New York a year later, naturally I made plans to visit my old standby. I pulled up Google Maps, started typing, and . . . “Permanently closed.” I searched around to get the full story and found an article in the Tribeca Citizen reporting that Sole di Capri had shut its doors amid COVID lockdowns. The comments said it all:
I was stunned. Of course I had seen the news reports about businesses and livelihoods being destroyed—bars, restaurants, gyms, theaters, spas. I had seen the shuttered storefronts with my own eyes. But it’s not until headline-making events touch someone or something you know that you appreciate the full weight of what’s going on. I had a personal stake in Sole di Capri. It was part of my New York. And it was gone.
For the next couple years, I’d periodically check online to see if Chef Edoardo had gotten back into the restaurant business. In 2022, I found my answer. Google took me once again to the Tribeca Citizen article, but this time there was good news in the comments: Edoardo had opened a new restaurant in Huntington, Long Island. It was called Edoardo’s Trattoria.
After moving back to New York and starting this Substack, I decided to make the trip out to Long Island, not only to eat Edoardo’s food again, but to tell his story. In January 2025, I took a train out to Huntington, and Edoardo was kind enough to sit for an interview.
Edoardo Erazo was born in Quito, Ecuador. The youngest of six brothers, Edoardo often stayed home helping his mother and grandmother cook while his older brothers went out chasing girls. Edoardo describes his mother and grandmother as “good chefs” because, despite their limited means, they were able to use affordable ingredients to make delicious meals for an extended family of as many as sixteen. They taught Edoardo to always be thinking about tomorrow’s meals, something he does every day when planning his restaurant’s specials.
With his passion for cooking sparked, Edoardo spent his teenage years working at restaurants in and around Quito, and ultimately decided he wanted to be a chef. He considered some culinary schools in nearby Chile and Argentina, but Edoardo wanted to learn from the best. He set his eyes on Italy.
At eighteen years old, Edoardo set off for Turin, Italy, and, after a brief stint in culinary school, spent the next eight years working in kitchens throughout Italy, studying under some of the country’s best chefs and immersing himself in the tastes and traditions of northern and southern Italian cuisine.
When one of his friends got an opportunity to move to the U.S. to work as a waiter at San Domenico, a high-end Italian restaurant on Central Park South, Edoardo soon followed. Edoardo spent over fifteen years working as a waiter at some of Manhattan’s finest Italian establishments. He loved the work, but the hours were grueling. He routinely worked from 10:00 a.m. to 11:00 p.m., six days a week, all the while dreaming of opening his own restaurant.
That dream became a reality in 2007 when Edoardo opened Capri Caffé, later renamed Sole di Capri (“sun of Capri”). Why Capri? “It’s a very popular romantic destination,” Edoardo says. “When you go to Capri, you go as two and come back as three.”
In the beginning, Capri Caffé was just that: a café serving the breakfast crowd with coffee, espresso, and Italian pastries. (Edoardo pronounces “bombolones,” “cornetti,” and “sfogliatella” with the vigor you’d expect.) It was tough going in those early days. Edoardo was waking up before dawn to open at 7:00 a.m., but to no avail—the customers weren’t coming.
“I am so tired,” Edoardo told a friend in the business. “My coworkers are tired. I have no idea what to do.” “Edoardo,” his friend replied, “you are a cook. You are no good for coffee shops.” It was just what Edoardo needed to hear. He closed temporarily, threw out the old menu, crafted a new menu of pastas and salads, and re-opened Capri Caffé as a proper Italian trattoria serving lunch and dinner. No more pre-dawn commutes!
Immediately, Edoardo’s fortunes changed. The lower Manhattan lunch crowd started coming in, and when they realized Edoardo’s food was better (and less expensive) than anything else in the area, word spread quickly. Time Out and New York magazines soon ranked Capri Caffé among the best Italian spots in the city. Customers lined up in freezing temperatures to get a table. Celebrities like James Gandolfini and David Bouley stopped in. When Edoardo applied for a beer and wine license, the local board “gushed over the food, said the place was ‘amazing’ and approved the request without any questions.” After the name change to Sole di Capri, Edoardo even made an appearance in a published novel, John Freeman Gill’s The Gargoyle Hunters:
It all came to a halt in 2020, when COVID lockdowns forced Sole di Capri to close for nearly a year. When the city allowed indoor dining at reduced capacity, Edoardo gave it a go. “We tried with the masks and dividers,” he says, “but I didn’t feel comfortable. I said, ‘This is not a restaurant. It’s not a restaurant to eat like that.’” Meanwhile, Edoardo’s customers dried up. “All the customers that we had—architects, lawyers, people with their own companies—they were not there anymore. We could not survive.”
After two weeks, Sole di Capri closed permanently. Edoardo recalls how he felt that day: “You take the train home and say, ‘Today, I got fired. What am I going to do? I have to pay rent.’”
Edoardo’s son, Adi, had the answer. “You don’t want to close,” Adi told his father. “You want to move.” Adi saw an opportunity in Huntington, Long Island, where COVID restrictions were more relaxed, and where there were plenty of restaurants serving up standard Italian-American fare, but few offering the sort of authentic Italian cuisine Edoardo specializes in. Adi found a prime location downtown and told his father, “I want you to open here.”
Edoardo’s Trattoria opened in 2022 and followed a remarkably similar story to Sole di Capri. It started as a café serving coffee and pastries, but once the liquor license was approved and Edoardo opened the dining room, customers and accolades came pouring in. Feed Me magazine ranked Edoardo’s Trattoria in its Top 100 restaurants on Long Island in 2023, and even featured Edoardo’s dish on the cover. In 2024, Edoardo cracked the Top 50.
The scale at Edoardo’s Trattoria is entirely different. The dining room seats 54—three times what Edoardo had in Tribeca. The full-sized, fully-equipped kitchen allows Edoardo to experiment with new ideas and make all pastas, breads, and cheeses in-house. The expanded staff allows Edoardo to focus on food rather than cleaning and dishes—responsibilities that often fell on his shoulders at Sole di Capri. And Adi, now marketing manager, handles the restaurant’s rather slick social media presence.
“I miss Tribeca a lot,” Edoardo says. But he’s happy with his new life on Long Island. Edoardo’s Trattoria is thriving, and Edoardo loves the community he’s found in Huntington. He’s even thinking about opening another restaurant on Long Island. “Maybe a pizzeria.”
Here’s hoping.
After the interview, Edoardo said the words I’d been waiting to hear: “I will cook for you.” He strapped on a chef’s jacket, threw a towel over his shoulder, and disappeared into the kitchen without asking me what I wanted. Hell yes.
First up, tomato salad: juicy heirloom tomatoes, fluffy homemade mozzarella, and fresh greens, dressed in a zesty balsamic.
Next, uovo in raviolo: one large raviolo stuffed with spinach, homemade ricotta, and egg yolk, served in a butter sauce with truffles.
Secondi: a perfectly-prepared dover sole, garnished with white wine, butter, and capers.
Finally, pistachio ricotta tart: two layers of pistachio-infused cake and one layer of homemade ricotta, served with fresh cream and berries.
What can I say? Every bite reminded me why I fell in love with Sole di Capri in the first place. Edoardo’s food is delicious, sure. But, more than that, it’s purposeful, considered—so obviously the fruit of one man’s uncompromising commitment and passion.
That passion is what got Edoardo through the hard times—when he was working long hours as a waiter newly arrived in the U.S., when he was waking up before dawn to keep Capri Caffé afloat, and when he lost Sole di Capri. “This business is not something you do for money,” Edoardo says. “It’s a passion. When people say, ‘Edoardo, thank you very much,’ I can only repay them from the kitchen.”
Let Edoardo say “thank you.” Visit Edoardo’s Trattoria. Tell him I sent you.
Sole di Capri was the jewel of Church Street. Beloved by its neighbors not only for its incredible food, but for the warmth and love of its owners. Now? Just another shuttered storefront on an unsightly block.
There may never be a full reckoning on the harms caused by COVID policy. No surprise there. But equally unsurprising is how resilient Americans like Chef Edoardo dusted themselves off and started again in the evergreen American pursuit of prosperity.
Molto bene