How Robke's in Northport became a restaurant phenom

Ask customers to define the allure of Robke’s in Northport and they’ll say, “The food is amazing” and “The portions are huge” and “The staff is unbelievable, and they remember you.” Those are direct quotes from Kathy Riebe, of Dix Hills, but they echo — practically verbatim — what you’ll hear from almost anyone else at lunch or dinner. Riebe and her husband, John, have been coming here at least once a week for 30 years and, while they are singing the joint’s praises, server Mat Dolan delivers a plastic cup of ice to the table, even though there’s still ice in the previous cup he brought. “We like ice in our pinot grigio,” she explained. “They don’t ask, they just bring it.”

THE FACE OF ROBKE'S

Louis Selvaggio Jr., the face of this family-run operation, looks younger than his 44 years and has the lanky, boyish charm of a young (albeit extravagantly tattooed) Frank Sinatra. He has a harder time explaining why Robke’s is crowded seven days a week, 365 days a year. “We’ll never be a top Italian restaurant,” he conceded. “We’ll never be a top steakhouse, but we will be busy every night.”

He’s everywhere during service — in the dining room, in the parking lot, behind the bar. He greets some customers by name (“Joe! How are you? Chicken Parm with spaghetti?”), others with a less personalized but no less heartfelt greeting (“Hey, brother! What do you need?”).

In 1978, Selvaggio’s father bought Robke’s Country Inn, a modest bar specializing in burgers and steak sandwiches, from Ernie Robke, who founded the restaurant in 1961. Louis Selvaggio Sr., a Bronx-born Italian American who cooked that way, gradually added more dishes to the menu. In a 1988 review, Newsday noted that the “casual hamburger counter” had gotten a facelift, that napkins were now cloth. At that point, Robke’s had about 50 seats.

Unlike his son, whose nom de penne is Louie Sel, the senior Selvaggio shuns the spotlight. At 69, he still leads the kitchen, although he feels comfortable leaving it in the capable hands of his crew, most of whom have been there for at least a decade.

CROWD-PLEASING MENU

The current menu blends Italian American standards (baked clams, rigatoni alla vodka, chicken Parm) and holdover grill favorites (bacon cheeseburger, steak sandwich) with signature creations such as Linguine Chop Chop (with shrimp and clams in a light tomato sauce), macaroni-and-cheese topped with a chicken cutlet, red snapper al forno, Cajun-spiced prime strip steak and, most famously, the Pork Chop Martini, which is not the craziest cocktail you’ve never heard of but rather a pork chop that’s been pounded flat, breaded and pan-fried, then sauced with lemon juice and cherry peppers, sprinkled lavishly with Parmesan and broiled to a gooey goldenness.

Louie Sel took the name from a Parmesan-encrusted veal scallopini dish at Lusardi’s in Larchmont (it’s still on the menu) but explained that its inclusion on his menu was more efficiency measure than culinary inspiration. “We always had a pork chop with vinegar peppers,” he noted. “But people started getting funny with the temperature. I’d hear, ‘It’s overcooked!’ ‘It’s undercooked!’ So, we decided to pound it thin so that you don’t order it to temperature, it’s always the same — like a smashburger.”

Last year marked Sel’s 20th anniversary as a full-time Robke’s employee. He started as a busser but discovered he had a knack for marketing. In 2007 he introduced a menu of $10 lunch specials; today, at $15.95, they are still a bargain. And he fiddled with some of the existing menu items, reimagining them ever so slightly and giving them catchy names (see: Pork Chop Martini).

More business drove the decision, in 2012, to carve out space for a small back dining room and, in 2016, Sel and then-fledgling influencer Salvatore DiBenedetto (@thegrubfather on Instagram) piled four pieces of fried mozzarella on top of one another, dubbed them a “tower” and took the burgeoning social-media scene by storm. Fearing overexposure — and the wellbeing of the deep fryer — the towers were retired within a year.

The year 2020 was a watershed for Robke’s. First, the Selvaggios took a small step in aligning the name with the concept, replacing the modifier “Country Inn” with “Quality Italian. Prime Steaks.” Then the pandemic shot it into the stratosphere. “We didn’t cry,” Sel said. “We played.”

He introduced $50 half trays of popular items, and they jumpstarted a takeout and catering business. (The trays, which feed four to six, are now offered only on Mondays, but they still cost only $50.) When outdoor dining was permitted, Robke’s erected a temporary tent. A patio tacked onto the front dining room became a permanent fixture that is enclosed during the winter, bringing the total capacity up to about 85.

And then there was the celebrity parade. “During COVID,” Sel recalled, “a couple of sports agents who live around here fell in love with the place and they started bringing in their clients. Darryl Strawberry was the first one, then Dwight Gooden, Robinson Canó, Gary Sheffield. Can you imagine, Tino Martinez had his birthday party here!” Photographs of ballplayers at Robke’s helped boost the restaurant’s social media profile; between them, @robkesnorthport and @louiesel_robkes have more than 100,000 followers on Instagram. Sel noted that while he “does right by” the customers who put him in the spotlight, the business — and, especially, the staff — continue to make plenty of money from bold-faced diners.

A couple of sports agents who live around here fell in love with the place and they started bringing in their clients. Darryl Strawberry was the first one, then Dwight Gooden, Robinson Canó, Gary Sheffield. Can you imagine, Tino Martinez had his birthday party here!

- Louis Selvaggio Jr., co-owner of Robke's

CELEBRITY DINERS

The acclaim his restaurant receives from professional athletes is profoundly gratifying. A high school athlete himself, Sel views his whole enterprise as a perpetual tournament where stamina, strength, agility, quick thinking and, most of all, the ability to play well with others are essential qualifications. On the dining room floor, servers and runners navigate an obstacle course. And delivering tickets to the kitchen is no walk in the park either: It takes the agility of a wide receiver to weave between cooks who are literally shoulder to shoulder in a cramped space (150 square feet) that looks like a subway car during rush hour — with fire.

Whether in the dining room or in the kitchen, days here are long. As New York’s minimum wage has increased, many restaurants try to keep their workers’ hours to 40 a week to avoid paying overtime. At Robke’s, the typical workweek is closer to 60 hours. “I’m happy to pay overtime,” Sel said. “The question is, ‘Do I want him in the building?' I want my key players here as much as possible. I want my guys to make that money.”

Between the pay and the sense of community, Robke’s staff tends to stick around. But when he has an opening, Sel knows that nothing he does is more important than making the right hire. “I can’t afford a weak link,” he said. “And I’ve found that personality — not résumé — is the key to hiring. I don’t really care about experience. Being friendly is the most important thing, and I know within 30 seconds if I’m going to hire someone.”

Take Dolan, a former linebacker at the University at Albany, who has been a server at Robke’s for five years. A massive fellow with a sweet demeanor, he came on board as a security guard during the pandemic, when the restaurant temporarily lost its liquor license because it wasn’t enforcing the required social distancing. It was Dolan’s job to keep the crowds at bay and Sel was impressed with “how he talked to people and how people responded to him.” For Dolan’s part, “I had never waited tables, I was nervous and intimidated.” Now he’s a star player whose signature rendition of “Happy Birthday” has become so popular, potential celebrants call in advance to ask if they can be seated in his section. A cross between an aria and a fight song, Dolan’s delivery is punctuated with exhortations to the crowd: “I can’t hear you!” and “That’s pathetic!”

One exception to Sel’s don’t-hire-the-résumé rule is Michael Cesaria. “Big Mike,” as everyone calls him, had managed at Bobby Van’s in Manhattan and owned his own bar before joining the team eight years ago. Typically wearing a black “Robke’s” polo or a slim-fitting black dress shirt, the silver-haired Cesaria looks more like a film star than a restaurant manager. (Kathy Riebe described him as “a matinee idol.”) Nor does “manager” capture what he means to his boss. “He’s another me,” Sel explained. “Whatever I ask him to do, it’s done. If there’s a VIP coming, I don’t have to be here. Because of him, I can take a day off.”

“Off” from Robke’s might well mean “on” at Birdie Bar, the restaurant he and his sister, social-media pro Mia Selvaggio, opened in 2023 less than a quarter of a mile east on Fort Salonga Road. If the family’s first establishment is the product of decades of trial and error, Birdie Bar was intentionally conceived of as a swank, bilevel New American bar and grill with a vibe that’s far more Wall Street than Little Italy. And it offers such modern amenities as credit cards and reservations.

None of this has made a perceptible dent in Robke’s business. No matter the day of the week, you are likely to encounter a wait unless you arrive before noon at lunch, before 4 at dinner. And that’s perfectly fine with regular Bruce Ashkinos, of Dix Hills. “I’m OK waiting 90 minutes,” he said. “Even in line, everybody is happy, everybody is having fun.” He’d finished his meal at the bar at least an hour ago but was still kibbitzing with Sel, the bartender and his fellow stoolmates. “If this was a normal restaurant, I would have left already," he said. "But it’s Robke’s.”