A tall round of tiramisu was set before us, with its sweet mascarpone cream and coffee- and liquor-soaked lady fingers. The plate was accompanied by a fishbowl-sized cappuccino with a mountain of snowy white foam. As we wrapped up our meal, Jack Mancini graduated to drinking a deep bronze liquor from a snifter. With a thick head of pushed-back silver hair, a 5 o'clock shadow, and a warm smile, the restaurateur sat casually on one of the short,... More >>>