The king of the Little (sh)Italy rip-offs. The food and decor at Puglia are just plain uglia. All bad puns aside, this place has absolutely nothing to offer, other than enough space to fit a busload of rowdy children. The “house” wine actually comes from a box, and the waiters have no qualms about leaving the kitchen door open so you can see yourself getting ripped off while the little man in the back funnels the fortified Welch’s from the box into unwashed bottles, using his thumb as a stopper. They are nice enough to add extra protein to their antipasti, throwing in the dead flies for free. . . . and then you get the bill. $35 for horrible thumb-tasting wine, dead flies and a chicken parmesan that would make Mr. Stouffer laugh. Oh, did we mention the Puerto Rican DX-7 player who serenades the cafeteria-like room with Yankee Stadium’s greatest hits, including CHARGE!, Take Me Out to the Ballgame and The Macarena? Scary. [MF]
189 Hester
212/966-6006
pugliaofnyc.com