A few facts: The essential Italian restaurant San Domenico will be shutting its doors on Central Park South next month, and the reasons given are pretty much what you hear whenever successful New York restaurants close: “The landlord wants to triple our rent,” says Marisa May, who owns and operates San Domenico with her father, Tony. He adds, “We don’t like to only work for the landlord. We want something left for us.”

A couple of uncertainties: The Mays promise that San Domenico will reopen. I believe them, but I worry. That’s because I’m a worrier. Marisa says it will happen after January, 2009. Tony says March or April, 2009. See why I’m anxious?

The new location is a secret, but the Mays love to chat, and I’m pretty sure I have it nailed down: I’m guessing the new San Domenico will be located on or near Madison Square Park, once among the most aristocratic locales in old New York, after that a tony commercial district, now somewhat forgotten, although restaurants are bringing it back. (The park’s centerpiece statue is somewhat depressing—it’s of Roscoe Conkling, a New York senator who died of exposure after walking through the blizzard of 1888.)

At the moment, given that nothing in the restaurant world can be taken for granted, I have this to suggest: Eat at San Domenico while you can. It is one of the most gracious, refined, and, in my opinion, underappreciated restaurants in New York.

The day San Domenico closes, June 19, will be its 20th anniversary. Throughout those years, Tony May has worked to transform Italian cooking—essentially the food of home kitchens—into a restaurant cuisine. He’s been tireless, because preparing genuine Italian food (not Italian-American food) outside Italy is difficult. In this mission, no other Italian restaurateur in this country has approached his success.

San Domenico’s curved bar feels very much like it belongs in Milan. One of my friends pointed out that it’s in the shape of a question mark, adding, “Aren’t all of life’s questions answered at bars?” The dining room, which once looked a bit too orange, is now understated and lovely. The overhead lights, which refract intricately, are some of the most stylish in New York.

The chef is Odette Fada, whose food I adore. In a way she is the Italian equivalent of Daniel Boulud, specializing in upscale versions of comfort food. Her agnolotti are the best meat-filled pasta in America. Her red-wine and red-beet risotto is sublime, and to me most red-wine risotto lacks finesse. She continues to prepare San Domenico’s signature Uovo in Raviolo al Burro Nocciola Tartufato—that’s fundamentally a poached egg wrapped in pasta with truffle-butter and, depending on the season, white truffles. The desserts are subtle, delicate, and creamy.

That same friend who loved the look of the bar thought a perfect dining day for him would consist of egg-filled pasta for breakfast, agnolotti for lunch, and imported Sicilian gamberi with rosemary, olive oil, and borlotti beans for dinner. I’m just praying that I can eat anything at San Domenico, wherever it might be, after the dreaded June 19 has passed.

240 Central Park South, New York, NY; 212-265-5959; sandomeniconewyork.com