Old Meets New at Bar Ferdinando, as a Carroll Gardens Classic Enters Its Next Chapter

There’s a resurrection of sorts on Union Street in Carroll Gardens. While Bar Ferdinando is technically not a revival, it is an homage to Ferdinando’s Focacceria, the 121-year-old neighborhood institution that closed in early 2025. Between the longtime regulars eager to check out what’s happening in the space they frequented for decades and the Y2K-chic Gen Z crowd curious about the latest venue from Swoony’s and Cafe Spaghetti owner Sal Lamboglia, 151 Union Street is buzzier than ever.

The previous owner of Ferdinando’s, Francesco “Frank” Buffa, took over the eatery from his father-in-law, Ferdinando Ciaramitaro, after Ciaramitaro’s death in 1975. Now, not long after closing up shop, he has passed the torch to restaurateur Lamboglia.

The fact that Ferdinando’s Focacceria had such a longstanding, loyal following is not lost on Lamboglia.

“It was an immense amount of pressure,” he tells Observer. “I’ve been telling staff, ‘we’re going to get people in for whom there’s so much meaning here, so just take it all in.’” Lamboglia has been doing just that himself, sitting down with Ferdinando’s patrons returning to the—albeit revamped—space for the first time in over a year. “One woman was crying because she was sitting at the same table where she and her grandmother would have lunch years ago,” he says.

Opening a bar or restaurant is its own herculean task, not for the faint of heart. Doing so in New York City requires an added level of near insanity. Carrying it out in a space with over a century of history and a dedicated following eyeing your every move to see what you get right or wrong? That’s a level of tension Bar Ferdinando could have easily crumbled under. But in its first week since opening on April 15, Lamboglia’s balance of tradition and reinvention is proving successful.

Bar Ferdinando is an all-day spot. It starts with coffee and pastries like bomboloni from pastry chef Jackie De La Barrera (of Agi’s Counter and Radio Bakery) and moves into cocktails, wine and small plates. Ricardo Echeverri helms the bar program; he’s been behind the stick at Frenchette and Minetta Tavern and is the general manager at Swoony’s. His cocktail menu is easily the most noticeable difference between Ferdinando’s Focacceria and Bar Ferdinando, as the former simply didn’t have one. It feels both very Italian aperitivo hour and very au courant in its low-ABV nature and spritz focus, from a 50/50 martini on a big rock to a limoncello spritz and an olive-briney Negroni. Next to the food menu that kept a good number of Ferdinando’s Focacceria classics, it’s an interesting meeting of old and new—and it works.

Lamboglia has kept the panelle, much to the relief of many Ferdinando’s regulars. This is a Sicilian chickpea fritter, and it’s served piled on a crusty sesame seed roll with fresh, creamy ricotta and a squeeze of lemon juice. He also kept the arancini: rice balls that arrive halved and crowned with a snowy pile of grated pecorino. The items he’s added—his signature seafood salad, a green salad with gold raisins, a clam and potato dish—are so in step with the original menu items that, if you didn’t previously frequent Ferdinando’s, you might not even realize they’re new additions.

I did enter Bar Ferdinando with my own Ferdinando’s Focacceria-shaped expectations. Discovering the Carroll Gardens staple was one of the few highlights of an otherwise regrettable college relationship. Biting into a panelle sandwich—pane e panelle—always made me feel both grateful and a little smug about living in New York and having access to a place like Ferdinando’s. Let other college kids heal their hangovers with McMuffins; I had Sicilian chickpea fritters. 

If you knew the original Ferdinando’s, then walking into Bar Ferdinando is a trip. It looks almost exactly the same. Lamboglia left the mismatched tile floor, and the brick and yellow walls hung with Buffa family photos, to which he has added some of his own. He had to build a bar to accommodate the major change between the old and new businesses, and used the marble and granite slabs from Frank Buffa’s kitchen prep tables. Like the new menu dishes, the bar looks like it’s always been there. One of the most noticeable differences, really, is the crowd. On its first Friday night, Bar Ferdinando bustled with neighborhood regulars catching up over tables crowded with wine and snacks, but there were also women cosplaying as Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy with their headbands, white bias-cut tanks, 517 Levi’s and low-heeled slingbacks sipping martinis while standing at the bar, and young Brooklyn creative types adding their names to the ever-expanding waitlist for a table (Bar Ferdinando doesn’t take reservations). 

It felt a little uncanny to sit in the old-school space, itself the embodiment of its old-school neighborhood, and see it packed with scenesters. It begs the question of how long the shine will last. Judging by the food and drinks, it’s likely the waitlist will remain stacked.

That 50/50 martini was a beautifully simple, more refreshing and approachable way to enjoy the drink’s classic profile. A Campari spritz with strawberry and basil was fragrant, bright, and satisfyingly bitter. Fernet with cola and mint felt medicinal in the best possible way—a true Italian amaro treat, especially appreciated after a carb-heavy parade of snacks. 

The panelle sandwich is about as carby and starchy as a dish can get. When it arrived at the table and my college memories came flooding back, I realized I was putting a perhaps unfair amount of pressure on a humble sandwich that I had felt was akin to a religious experience. But it didn’t disappoint. With Buffa’s recipe and Lamboglia’s chops, each bite is an ideal combination of soft yet toothsome fritter, crispy and fluffy bread, rich ricotta, and lemony acid to cut through it all. 

The arancini is moist and savory, and the green salad with raisins is a fresh and lovely counterpart to all of the fried this and cheesy that. A crustless, panna cotta-like cheesecake with lemon, olive oil and candied lemon peel strips defies logic: How can it taste like rich white chocolate fudge, yet feel as light as a mousse? The Brooklyn Special, Echeverri’s own house-made version of the Manhattan Special coffee soda Ferdinando’s would serve, was a perfect accompaniment to the end of the meal.

In the same way that Ferdinando’s Focacceria felt like a representation of the Italian-leaning Carroll Gardens neighborhood of generations past, Bar Ferdinando feels like it epitomizes the area and its denizens today. It maintains a healthy respect for tradition, but also keeps a finger on the pulse of how people like to eat and drink out now, paying homage to long-loved dishes and serving up sophisticated, low-ABV cocktails. With its all-day menu, Bar Ferdinando complements the other neighborhood businesses that are more strictly defined as coffee shops, restaurants or bars. 

Thanks to that flexibility—longer hours, a coffee program, a bar program, snacks that can easily build into a full lunch or dinner—Lamboglia says Bar Ferdinando can be whatever people want to make of it. 

“We can be where you come to work in the morning and have coffee. We can be a restaurant in that we have a menu, table service, and we serve drinks…and so we’re also a bar. [A group] came in who was going to Cafe Spaghetti for dinner but had some time, so they shared some panelle and croquettes.” Having something on offer for anyone who walks through the door at any time is important to Lamboglia. “I just want people to be happy,” he says. “I don’t like saying ‘no’ to a lot of things…being open from 11 a.m. to 10 p.m., we’re saying ‘yes,’ we’re not denying people anything.”

Of course, Lamboglia also realizes you can’t make everyone happy, and certainly not when taking over a space like Ferdinando’s. 

“One woman came in and asked if we still had panelle and rice balls,” he says. “I told her yes, and she said, ‘Oh, good, I’ll be here tomorrow.’ Then a guy came in and asked if we still had the spleen sandwich. I said, ‘not yet,’ and he left.” Most people have seemed really excited, but Lamboglia has accepted that there’s a small percentage of people who read about Bar Ferdinando opening in the old Ferdinando’s Focacceria space and write it off, thinking no new business could ever compare and maybe shouldn’t even try. 

Lamboglia did get one meaningful nod of approval. Frank Buffa brought his family to Bar Ferdinando’s friends-and-family night before opening, and for the first time, Lamboglia met Antoinette Ciaramitaro, Buffa’s wife and the daughter of Ferdinando himself.

“It probably was a little surreal for them to be sitting in Ferdinando’s with a new owner,” Lamboglia says. “But then [Ferdinando’s daughter] grabbed my arm and said, ‘My father would have been proud of you, he would have loved this.’ That’s all I needed.”