What A Girl Is Really Thinking When It Comes To Food

Category Archives: East Village

entrance to tu-lu's bakery

Tulu’s Bakery [Click the photo above to go to Tulu’s website]

338  E 11th St (between 1st and 2nd Avenue)New York, NY 10003

I’ve had a blog for whatever period of time, and my cousin Jamie has worked for a bakery for a few years, and she’s always bringing her homemade goodies to family events (ok she did it one time, but an elephant never forgets), and I just realized I should blog about the bakery she works for, so disclaimer, it is my cousin’s bakery, but my whole family dies for food, so if we like it you’ll like it.*

Also a disclaimer, we’re not real cousins, we’re cousins of cousins, but like we’re cousins. Get it?

So I brought my other cousin (she’s a real one) Ali to the bakery, because lets just make this a family affair. We went on a Saturday at like 12:30 to have a desserty (not a word) brunch.

I arrive, and the bakery is small, it’s more of a pick-up and go then a sit and eat, but there is seating, so I just start making myself comfortable putting my jacket on another chair, finding a spot for my bag. I order a coffee and a water before I go to town, and I get a text from my cousin:

text message

I walk outside, and there is my awkward cousin just loitering around on 11th Street, and it just cracks me up. Like here I am making myself at home, and she’s acting like a vagabond.

So, what do we order? So, their specialty is the coffee cake, and boyyyy is it.

A red velvet cupcake, because it has cream cheese frosting, so that’s like the sugary version of a bagel with cream cheese for brunch (isn’t it????)

A jalapeno corn muffin just to switch it up.

and last but definitely not least a chocolate chip cookie.

I start attacking each item with a plastic knife so we can divide it up between the two of us.

My cousin Jamie comes out to say hi to us, and she just stays. The bakery can bake itself. We’re more important. Deal with it people.

“You are not going to take a picture of me are you?” says Jamie.

Chef gear ain’t cute. She’s in a bandana, shoes that can be described as orthopedic, make-up free (she does have blemish free skin fyi), and just clothes she wants to destroy in a kitchen (will she hate me for reading this? Possibly).

“Nope, you’re good.”

“Ok good, because some Japanese newspaper said they were just taking a picture of the plate and I saw the article and I was in it. I’m famous in Japan.”


I’m starting to fill up but I’m digging the coffee cake on all levels, and don’t want to stop.

“You should hear the things people talk about in here.” People really are oblivious. No one censors themselves anymore. I can’t even imagine what the baristas at Starbucks think of me (she’s obsessed with her mom, and is always yelling at her…wait yeah I can).

My cousin proceeds to tell us about how two girls came into the bakery ordered, and then continued to have this “private” conversation:

“I really want to change my name to Tiny, because I’m so tiny.”

“You really are so tiny.”

“But then I looked it up on Twitter, and someone else already had that name.”

That’s when I go, “wait her name, or her twitter name.”

“I wasn’t sure. I hope it was her Twitter name.”

“I should probably get back behind the counter, I’ve been standing here with you for a while.”

“K, bye.”

* So on a health note: this is a gluten free bakery, and for the record gluten is not less caloric, less fattening, or more healthy. A cake is a cake. A cupcake is a cupcake and so on and so forth.  It is just made with different ingredients to keep the baked goods together and not fall apart. All the food is good, and if you happen to have a gluten allergy, it’s a fab option. And that is that!

Picture time….

coffee cake

Coffee Cake

I don’t even love coffee cake, because I think it can be a little dry, but not this one. This with a cup of coffee, is just a delight.
red velvet cupcake
Red Velvet Cupcake
They are small by cupcake standards, so guilt free? I don’t know. Very very good. done.
jalapeno cornbread
Cornbread Jalapeno Cake.
Not the best. I don’t recommend. It’s just a change of pace if you want something savory, but if you’re going to a bakery stick with the sweet stuff.
chocolate chip cookie
Chocolate Chip Cookie
Secret reveal: it’s made with espresso. I die for chocolate chip cookies, and this is no exception.
Here is the display, take ya pick!
bakery wall
And here is their, I don’t know, mascot? I’m into it.

Poco [Click the photo above to go to Poco’s website]
33 Avenue B (on the corner of 3rd street) New York, NY 10009

Can I wear black leggings with brown fry boots and a cream button down.

or do the colors not math


This is the text message that started by Saturday morning before I left for a brunch (bottomless brunch of course) with 4 girl friends of mine.

Yes, it’s fine.

Wanna share a cab?

“Yes, but hurry up I’m leaving right now,” I say as I fast forward through my Gallery Girls recording. I’m not leaving yet, but my friend is the slowest person on Earth, so I figured I’d light a fire under her legging clad ass.

I read the next text message:If ur lying ur dead (emoticon).

I’m in a cab, I reply as I turn up the volume.

I finally pick up my friend and off we go to Poco to enjoy a nice bottomless brunch on a pretty Saturday afternoon.

When we arrive the hostess informs us that there will be a slight wait since people came late…slight huh?

The other three girls arrive, and we attempt to wait patiently. We’re all in standard brunch garb, jeans, sandals/sneakers etc, and there is my other friend standing 5”10 with thick rimmed glasses, hot red lipstick, a scarf, combat boots (its almost 80 degrees out) and an oversize Chanel (her uniform). The only difference from her usual day to day outfit is that now she has an IPhone in her hand as opposed to her Blackberry.

“Do you like having an IPhone?”

“Um…it’s my 4th one.”

It’s been less than 30 days since she received her first one.

“How do you keep losing them?”

“Well I left one in a cab, but I realized as soon as I got out of the cab, so I took off my shoe and threw it at the cab.”

“Oh, so you got the phone.”

“I missed…”

“You have lipstick on your teeth.”

5 minutes turns into 30 minutes as we stand outside shooting the hostess dirty looks (how much longer..like 10 more minutes?…15 minutes later…they’re paying the check…10 minutes later….paying the check…we hate you) We are finally seated at a table outside, but CC Sabathia hasn’t charged her phone and it’s about to die, so she starts running around the restaurant asking if there’s an available outlet, and then says she wants to sit inside so she can hear the music better. I give her the seat closest to the speakers to make her feel better.

Waiter, wheres my drink….


“2 mimosas!”


“Bloody mary.”

“Can I have sangria?”

“Do you do pitchers?” They do, but only of mimosas, which they serve in a champagne bottle, tricky.

“You know, we were waiting half hour for our table,” says my friend hinting for some sort of accommodation aka extra pitchers.

“What a shame! Well you’re sitting now.” That was unsuccessful.

…and then brunch ended. No seriously, it didn’t. but it’s all a bit of a blur.

I having officially ended the Dukan Diet got a skirt steak sandwich, that I think had chimichurri sauce in it.

My other friend ordered the pulled chicken, which was pretty much chicken salad, but she didn’t realize that until she got it, so that didn’t go over well.

Two ordered eggs over easy with bacon, and one ordered lobster benedict (which I somehow neglected to take a picture of, sorry!). All of our meals came with home fries and salad. The home fries tasted like they were frozen and reheated, and the salad had a weird tropical like dressing, but that dressing goes very well with a mimosa (or does it?).

There was nothing left. Two of our friends had to leave early, and one of their bags swung around the table and spilled mimosa everywhere, which led to bees flying everywhere, everywhere!

The check comes, and I realize the other two girls were in remedial math in high school, so I’m going to have to drunkenly do this check…damn it.

“Can you hand me my phone or no?” I hear my friend ask a group of diners sitting near the outlet her phone is charging in, and then she gets up to talk to a group of guys instead, and then comes back to report, “they’re all gay.”

“Lets go to Beekman Beer Garden.”

And then I died. But the moral of this story is, we’re all willing to wait half hour if it means we get a bottomless drunk brunch in good weather and good music. But you could have been nicer about it Poco..I am a food blogger after all.

Poco (bottomless brunch special)

The best part of the meal. The champagne bottle is really a bottle of mimosa.

Poco (grilled skirt steak and cheese sandwich: with fried eggs, creamy avocado, letuce and tomato served on a French baguette)

I want to say the cheese was like a Manchego which had a nice salty bite with the steak and avocado. It’s not exactly brunch, but we did eat at 1:30pm so it’s fine.

Poco (pulled chicken sandwich: apple wood smoked bacon, lettuce, tomato, and chipotle aioli)

Translation: chicken salad sandwich with bacon. It was a little too mayo-y, but fine.

Poco (two eggs over easy with bacon)

I didn’t taste the eggs, but you have to be a pretty crappy restaurant to mess this up.

Want to know where to go right now? [Click the photo above to read Updating the Eater Heatmap:Where to Eat Right Now]

Nothing says football season more than wings and beer! [Click the photo above to read Beyond Buffalo: New York’s Nine Most Exciting New Wings]

Summer is over, which means more time in the city to go out, eat late night, and then feel guilty about it the next morning! [Click the photo above to read 10 Great Late Nite Bites in the Meatpacking District]

Miracles do exist! Tates Chocolate Chip Cookie Ice Cream Sandwich, a tatewich! You can purchase them as soon as above or make them yourself! All you need are cookies and ice cream, and a sharp knife. Thats it! It’s a crowd pleaser!

P.S. I stole these pictures, I wouldn’t be caught dead with that manicure.


122 East 7th Street (b/t 1st and Avenue A) New York, NY 10009


Since starting this Dukan Diet I have literally been shoveling in all forms of steak, turkey and chicken, and even sashimi and any baked fish I can get my hands on (I mean I had been trying the Skinny Bitch (vegetarian) diet for a while so this was a whole new world for me).

With that being said, I’m sort of sick of all this food, so I was dying to come up with a new way to continue my diet (after two weeks of doing this and I had already cheated…I mean I have a food blog what did you expect?) so my mind wandered to oysters.

I don’t die for them like some people, but I thought this was a good opportunity to expand my palate, so I found Desnuda, a Cevicheria (and oyster bar) and wine bar…an anorexic alcoholic’s dream. Yay!!

I convinced my lush of a cousin to join me (she had oysters the night before, but I think the wine bar swayed her), and I was on my way.

Desnuda is on a block in the East Village, which has a million and one amazing restaurants, so as I was aimlessly searching for the restaurant (no sense of direction AT ALL) I walked by three restaurants I was interested in for my next adventure (still haven’t been to Pylos or Luke’s Lobster) before I made it to Desnuda to be greeted by my cousin already sipping a glass of wine at the bar.

“Is there seating in the back?”

“I think it’s just the bar, “wine bar.””

“Oh, I get it.”

I order the same glass of rose as my cousin (I trust her) and scan what’s happening around me. There is a date happening next to my cousin (which I will agree, it is a fab date spot), and two gay men and their lady friend sitting to my right.

The bartender plops down truffle popcorn in front of us, and I slide it closer to my cousin and I. I suddenly realize it might be for the whole bar.

“I’m sorry is this yours?”

One of the gay guys looks up and replies, “no, it’s yours. They give it to everyone once they order a drink.”

Oh, ok…

“They must like you better than me, because they didn’t give me popcorn when I sat down,” my cousin says.

While that’s nice of her to say, I’m pretty sure they were just waiting for the rest of her party to arrive. I don’t think they thought my cousin came to a wine bar to sit by herself and drink (that’d be so sad).

My cousin had already scanned the menu and decided she was very into two tuna ceviche options, and a lobster ceviche. I really had my heart set on oysters so we figured we’d split one ceviche, and go our own way on one dish.

“Which tuna do you want?”

“I can’t eat fruit on my diet, so whichever one doesn’t have fruit.” (I already had popcorn woops).

“They both don’t.”

“Let’s do the spicy one.”

Then the bartender/waiter/chef (he does it all!) tells us about the specials of the day. I can’t tell if he lists two specials or one, because I only caught the first sentence and the last sentence, but I was into it.

“Maybe we should get a special and a ceviche, and then see what happens next.”

Bye oysters.

“Excuse me, was that one special or two?” (we’re dumb)


“We’ll get the first one,” (which was hamachi).

I sadly was buzzed from the one glass, and my cousin was cruising to her second.

“I like to try new drinks,” my cousin says.

“What are you getting next?”

“Can you get white wine after you have red, or is it the other way around?”

“I have no clue.”

“I don’t want the waiter to think I’m dumb.”

“Who cares if he thinks you’re dumb, just order a drink.”

She gets the cava, while I just get a second round of the rose. What do I know??

I then watch the bartender/waiter whip out a weird gadget and place glass bobbles on the table that look like round light bulbs: smoke starts going everywhere, and we hear him instruct our neighbors, “wait a minute ½ for this, and then eat this one minute after…”

Sounds complicated, but I’m jealous. What are they eating?

Tea smoked oysters.

Our tuna ceviche comes first, but I was convinced it was the hamachi, because when I ordered I said “we’ll have the Hamachi and the tuna ceviche” so I had assumed it’d arrive in that order, which in retrospect makes absolutely no sense, but like I said I had one glass and was tipsy.

So good! and SO spicy!

Hamachi is prepared next, and is just so so pretty. I like the tuna better, but the Hamachi was yummy, but they put salt and pepper on top, and it was just way too salty.

My cousin is up to glass #3, while I’m treading lightly with #2. I decide it’s only right if we get a third dish, and the lobster ceviche is ordered, which was my favorite by far, probably because it was the least healthy according to my diet. It came with mango (oops), and it was mixed with coconut milk (douple oops).

“The guy next to me keeps bumping his elbow into me,” my cousin says.

“Do you want to move seats?”

“No, it’s ok. I think he has an accent. Maybe he’s Israeli.”

“If he’s bumping into you then he’s definitely Israeli,” and we start cracking up, we’re hysterical! (she married an Israeli, judge me if you will, but they’re pushy sometimes, but I’m ride or die for my homeland).

 As we’re paying the bill, I realize I’m not even one step closer to liking oysters more, but I like ceviche more.

Desnuda (rose wine)

It’s a wine bar so I have to highlight the wine. Here it is. I know nothing, and I can’t give an ounce of an educated summary of the flavors, but I drank it, and it increased my BAC, so I’m into it.

Desnuda (truffle popcorn)

The beginning of the end of my diet. Some people are a little over truffle’d everything. Sometimes I agree, but not this time. I don’t know why I’ve never had this before! AMAZING, and worth just going for wine and the popcorn!

Desnuda (tuna ceviche with jalapenos and scallions)

This was SO spicy. I really liked it though, and I thought it was good quality tuna. It was the right cut, and had good flavor!

Desnuda (hamachi: with scallions and salt and pepper)

A little salty but I scraped the salt off and threw the scallion everywhere! You can see the jalapeno on the side, which was accidentally left over from the tuna. I’m messy.

Desnuda (lobster ceviche: coconut milk and mangos)

I couldn’t find the detailed description on the online menu, but trust me when I say I died for this. I love lobster in general, and I was obsessed with the mango/coconut milk combo.

Nicoletta [Click the photo above to go to Nicoletta website]

160 Second Avenue (on the corner of 10th Street), New York, NY 10003

I know what you’re thinking, I’ve never heard of Nicoletta, what is this place? I’m just so insanely on trend that I decided to a try the new Michael White restaurant that opened in mid-June (let me think I’m cool ok!).

I secretly knew there might be a wait since it’s a new restaurant and they don’t take reservations, but I didn’t tell my friend who I was meeting there (like I was gonna let her pick a different place), so I got there a few minutes early, put my name down, and phoned my mom to kill some time.

I see my friend approaching, and I tell my mom I have to go, “you called me!” She says and then hangs up. Jewish moms…

I break the news to her that there is a wait, and I have to say, she kept it together pretty well, considering she texted me that she was starving a few minutes before arriving, so plus 5 for maintaining your composure girl.

We opt to go across the street to 13th Step to get a beer, while we wait for our table (they call you when your table is up). Just as we order our Blue Moons (the girly beer), we get a call saying our table is ready. It was like 10 minutes earlier than they said, so I already loved them. We cancel our drinks and haul ass back to Nicoletta (it was 10 feet away, but we were hungry!).

“This place is so cute. I love the aesthetic….you can put that in the blog. aes-thet-ic,” my friend says it slowly like I’m about to whip out a pad and jot it down.

“I’ll be sure to note that.” That being said, it is cute. Brick walls, red décor, I’m gonna label it “laid back chic.” Do what you want with that information.

We order our wine and settle into the menu.

“Ok, what are we gonna get?”

We try so hard to look at the menu and decide, but we keep getting distracted, talking about how hungry we are, her “douschebag professor,” you get the idea….

I felt like my eyes were turning into ping pong balls as I tried to catch the waiter’s eye, maintain eye contact with my friend, and scan the menu (I’m a multi-tasker what can I say?).

“Ok, let’s just decide on a pizza first.”

“I’m not into red meat,” my friend replies.

“Great, I try to avoid red meat too.”

We go for the broccolo pie, which is broccoli rabe, peppers, and some pesto thing happening.

“Doesn’t your family think it’s weird that you don’t eat meat? Like your dad?” (referencing one of my blog posts, she’s a fan!)

“Yeah, he does, but then he does this…” and I motion him hitting his chin implying my face blew up.

“I hate that! My brother makes fun of me too, but did he run 3 miles before eating, no! I did!”

I’m suddenly wondering if we’re on the same page…

“You run 3 miles?”

“I work out like 5 or 6 days a week.” Hmm, do you? I work out 3 days a week, putting her at a 50% advantage in the aerobic department. I don’t like not being the fit one at the table (it happens often if you can imagine). I’m starting to doubt her.

We order two “small bites,” of a cucumber salad and risotto balls (her suggestion, my love for her is growing again).

We look over at the table next to us, and two skinny girls are eating 3 small bites. We will NOT be outdone.

“Maybe we should get that eggplant,” she says. I can forgive you for your 5-6 workout regimen. Consider it water under the bridge.

We order, and my friend rushes to wash her hands. The cheese stands alone. I whip out my phone, and pretend I’m busy.

She sits back down, and tells me there is a bathroom on the main floor. I am loving this place more and more.

The small bites are indeed small (my pictures below make them look large, but they are not, but they’re also $5 sooo I get it), but they’re really really yummy.

Cucumber salad is on the healthy side with a nice crunch; the eggplant has great flavor, and it comes with bread so yay to that, and the risotto balls are deep fried balls of rice, so I didn’t foresee that being a problem (only 4 of them though, so portion control!)

My friend notices little silver circles at the sides of our table.

“Is this for our bags?”

I look around at the other tables. “Nope, that’s where they put the pizza stand in.”

Honest mistake. She’s going to kill me when she reads this, because she’s going to say I made her sound like an idiot. I think it’s a normal question!

Before I can fully laugh at her, we look at the skinny girls next to us, and see their pizza has come. Looks like they’re eating tonight too. I wonder if they ate anything else today, or if they’re just naturally skinny.

Our pizza arrives, and it’s go time! It was yummy, but I’m gonna shoot you straight, I liked the small bites better. We decided we would have preferred a “saucier” pizza.

“Like the ones the girls have next to us…” Do you think these girls know how much trouble they’re causing for us?

I look down at my wine, and I see a little bug has lost its way into my glass of rose, and is now doing the free style in my glass. It looks like the bug is legit swimming in my glass, and I cannot stop watching it.

“Look at that thing!”

“It’s really swimming.”

I share with the busboy that I have an Olympic swimmer in my wine glass, and he takes it and returns with a new glass that is bug free.

“Would you ladies like dessert?” YES.

Gelato is the only option, and I’m not complaining.

“Would you like any toppings?”

We pick the pistachio nuts that the waiter recommends, and he looks at us all crazy and says, “that’s it?” Toppings are fifty cents fyi.

We go for the caramel sauce.

As we wait for our dessert, we see the girls next to us have ordered individual gelatos. Now they’re just rude!

We get ours, and it is definitely the best part of the meal. It’s amazing. 16 handles may be across the street, but ditch the fro yo and get the gelato for sure.

As we depart from the restaurant, I realize there is construction on 3rd avenue, and no cars are allowed on the street. Guess I’ll call my mom while I walk home.

Nicoletta (wine)

This picture was taken before a bug flew into my glass. I don’t know much about wine, but I liked mine.

Nicoletta (cetriolo:spicy red wine vinegar marinated, cucumbers, black peppercorn)

This was delicious! I am a really picky cucumber eater (I don’t like when it has a mushy center), and this had the perfect crunch and mix of acid. I loved it!

Nicoletta (caponata: marinated sicilian eggplant, peppers, pine nuts, basil)

This was surprisingly amazing. I loved it, and tried to share with my friend, but I kept dipping my fork back into the little bowl.

And that bread? Crispy and unreal.

Nicoletta (suppli’ risotto, mozzarella, ragu antico)

A deep fried carb with dipping sauce. It’s not packed with flavor, but it’s not meant to be. It’s just yum.

Nicoletta (broccolo pizza: broccoli rabe pesto, smoked scamorza cheese, cherry peppers, spicy bread crumbs)

Looks pretty good right??? I think it’s the same pizza they have on the website, which makes me feel like I have superb photography skills. Anyway, it is really great, but I think it needed something like maybe more tomatoes or salt, and they dont serve the food with any of your standard pizza toppings.

Nicoletta (gelato with caramel sauce and pistachio brittle)

I could not help myself with putting up two pictures of this. It was just so good. They said the gelato was vanilla flavored, but I swear it had some marshmallow thing happening. Also, please note that it’s not a super large portion: they serve it in a regular size glass.

Café Cortadito  [Click the photo above to go to Café Cortadito’s website]

 10 East 3rd Street (between Ave B & Ave C) New York, NY 10009

 Spent a rainy Saturday at a coed bottomless brunch…I know what??

 First off, I was originally supposed to go to this brunch with a few girls, and then I get a text from my friend saying, “we are not going to know anyone at this brunch.” Great, lets break bread with people I don’t know. This won’t be awkward at all.

 I would also like to point out that I know these people through a boy I was dating (yes, dating! Not hooking up. I’m not a 20 year old undergrad anymore. You want something, you better buy me dinner first), so you can imagine my horror when more of his friends were coming to a DRUNK brunch. Who knew what would slip out of my mouth? Oh, and did I mention they were couples? MISS, WHERE IS MY MIMOSA?

 I had already told my friend ahead of time she had to sit next to me (am I 12? Maybe), but her boy best friend (who she calls her brother) apparently had the same idea, and we secretly competed over our seating arrangement.

 Her brother won, so I sat next to him, with my friend sitting across from me, and her other friend( I had met twice before) sitting to my right.  I should also point out that the restaurant was the size of a small walk-in closet, and 9 of us squeezed into a table that sat 6 comfortably. So when I say we sat next to each other, I mean we were straight up cuddling. Lets.get.started.

 “Should I take pictures of our meal?”

“You should!”

“Why would you take pictures?”

“Because I have a food blog, do you want my card?” (Yes, I have cards now!)

“You seriously have a blog?”


“Are there videos on your blog?”

“Sort of…”

“You should have videos” (Oh, thanks. I should have been like DON’T TELL ME HOW TO RUN THIS! but instead I get all shy and embarrassed and just respond with a meek, “ok.”)

 We order pitchers of mimosas, mojitos, two sangrias (white and red), and maybe one more drink. The lovely lady sitting next to me suggested combining the mimosa and mojito…she is a genius.

 I was at least 3 drinks in before my food arrived…I actually can’t remember. Whatever. It’s a bottomless brunch! Don’t judge me!

 I had per usual looked up this menu ahead of time (for G-d’s sake it’s Cuban, I have never had a Cuban brunch before, I needed to be prepared: I needed to see pictures prior to ordering). I went for the Amanecer Corralito (sweet plantain omelette with Spanish chorizo and ham), I saw from the picture the chorizo and ham were served on the side, and the omelette looked like a good size portion. Yummy. Omelette was sweet with the plantains inside, and then tasted delic with the chorizo combined. Sweet and Savory. Boom.

 My friend’s “brother” was texting our mutual friend to no avail, because he wanted a male companion for March Madness later in the day. Unfortunately, our friend was unavailable because he was at his own brunch…an exclusive couples brunch. Yes, vomit.

 My drunken haze does not allow me to recall how the whole thing started, but in order to get Mr Couples Brunch to respond to Brother, we decided to play a prank on him, and this just made the brunch fly by!

What better way to keep yourself busy when you don’t know one other person there!

 We decided to tell Mr Couples Brunch that I was making out with some dude Mr Couples Brunch hates, who we shall name Brock Lee* (Best idea ever! Lets do it! … No, we should not. Why am I jumping at the chance to sound like a slut?).

 I start grabbing Brother’s arm and laughing like a drunken hyena.

 Mr Couples Brunch goes nuts and starts texting the craziest things:

 “She has really hit rock bottom.”


 At this point I am just dying of laughter (He thinks I’ve hit rock bottom! Stop it! I can’t breathe!) Looking back I should have been insulted.

 We then decide it would be a good idea for me to text Mr. Couples Brunch and pretend I have no idea what is going on.

 Me: Hey are you at The Hill? (their favorite bar)

Mr Couples Brunch: No, y?

Me: We’re going in a little?

Mr Couples Brunch:  With Brock Lee?

Me: Who?

Mr Couples Brunch is drunk from his own brunch and calls me to yell at me! I of course cannot hear him. They were playing loud music and I felt like I was at a discoteca.

 I finish up with a text…

 Me: You got punk’d son (WHAT? I know. The show is back ok, so don’t judge me)

 Mr Couple’s Brunch isn’t quite getting it, and keeps going…

 Mr Couple’s Brunch: Brock Lee is ur hubby?

Mr Couple’s Brunch: I wanna merk him (idk what that means)

 Next thing I know I’m paying the bill, and my friends are stabbing at my plate, because I didn’t finish my omelette, because I was so distracted by the texting feud. “Hey! That’s really good!” I know…I have a food blog.

 *The name has been changed for privacy reasons.

Cafe Cortadito (sangria, tropical mimosa, mojito)

A little bit of everything.

Cafe Cortadito (Amanecer Corralito)

Sweet plantain omelette with Spanish chorizo and ham. I definitely ordered the best dish!

Cafe Cortadito (huevos rancheros)

2 eggs over a corn tortilla with black beans and salsa. The vegetarian option.

Cafe Cortadito (ropa vieja sandwich)

Cuban style flank steak with a flavorful tomato sauce, green and red peppers.

A boy ordered this. I think ordering a sandwich when you’re drinking is always a safe bet for absorption purposes.

Mono + Mono [Click the photo above to go to Mono + Mono’s website]

 116 E 4th St (between 1st and 2nd Ave), New York, NY 10003

 Girl birthday dinners…too many girls, too many opinions: Is this funny? What do we order?  Is this insulting? Can I taste that? Am I being left out? Did we just get deep? Should we order drinks? Fun, but oh em effing gee!

 This one started out reg, with an email invite for seven of our closest friends to Mono + Mono either Tues or Wednesday. Perk of a birthday dinner is you don’t spend 30 e-mails fighting over what restaurant to go to (or at least that happens with my friends: I don’t like that place, that’s too far, the food looks weird, it’s too much money, I want byob…is your head spinning?). But Tuesday or Wednesday was like its own ticking time bomb…

 “I don’t care, up to you.”

“Whatever works”

“I’m down for whatever”

 The email chain continues with different ways of trying to convey that each girl is “go with the flow and fine with whatever,” until the opinionated one of the group is like WEDNESDAY! Ok fine, no one wanted to make a decision anyway.

 7:30 dinner gives me just enough time to turn into a human being post work. We arrive, and the host greets us suggesting we hang up our coats, because in his exact words, “it’s a stove back there.” (a stove? Maybe an oven? I immediately think of Bridesmaid’s…What kind of name is stove?”)

 Only 3 out of 7 have arrived, and I have to tell you, I’m starving. I already looked up the restaurant ahead of time (I mean who doesn’t??), but the menu was overwhelming me nonetheless. Mono + Mono specializes in their fried chicken, and their Soju (Soju is Korean alcohol, but I would say it pretty much tastes like vodka infused with fruit) so in my mind those were definites.

 Eventually the others arrive, and we can get down to business, but not before my friend arrives, plops down in her seat, and announces she “loves getting spit in the face at work” (she’s a middle school teacher in the Bronx, so a student spit at her). What.an.intro. Dinner is about to go down…

 “Are we sharing?”

“Lets share.”

“Yeah, lets share.”


 “I want the chicken.”

“Ok, what chicken should we get?”

“I want fries too.”

“I don’t eat chicken, but I’m just going to get something else.” (what?)

 So far we have 2 large plates of fried chicken (1 soy garlic, and 1 hot & spicy) and one order of French fries after my friend boldly states that she “loves potatoes.” Yeah, ok, sure.

 “The hot & spicy is pretty spicy”

“That’s ok, we like spicy,” says Miss Wednesday.  Since I actually like spicy it was fine with me.

 The waiter throws out that the chicken takes 40 minutes to prepare…wait what? Let’s get more food.

 “Who wants sushi?”

“I’m fine with sushi.”

“We’re still getting the French fries right?”


“How about the ninja roll?”

“Wait, are we getting French fries?”


 “I want a salad, does anyone else want a salad?”

“if you want the salad, I’ll eat the salad.”

“Everyone will pick at it…”

Soju arrives first. All of us are handed small glasses with a large block of ice in the middle, and the Soju is poured on top of the ice cube. It is gone in a matter of minutes.

 Food arrives staggered as we all grab at it with our forks, chopsticks, fingers, and whatever utensil we can find on the table.

 “Who has seen Hunger Games?”

“I’m seeing it on Friday.”

“Did you read the book?”

“She definitely didn’t read it, she only saw the movie.” (she only saw the movie)

“I’m reading it now…”

 “Who watches Shahs of Sunset?” This show is so bad it’s good, and I have verbal diarrhea going on and on about Resa (if you don’t know who that is, that’s just too bad for you)….Mob wives comes next…and then like any girl with a pulse, Fifty Shades of Grey comes up.

 “It’s crazy.”

“I want to read it.”

“it’s on my kindle.”

“Is it a fetish? Like a baby?”

“Like the Nip/Tuck episode?”

“No, like S&M.”

 So I guess this is my next book, I need to be able to keep up with the conversation, and I have to tell you it was difficult. Diagonal conversations, across the table conversation, adjacent conversation, my head was spinning. “What are you guys talking about over there?”

 The fried chicken arrives. Each plate is half soy garlic and half hot & spicy. “Why didn’t they just put each on a different plate? That’s so dumb.” Whatevs  lets eat. As it turns out, the waiter was not messing around, it was really spicy. You can’t tell the difference between each flavor chicken until you take a bite of it, so all hell broke loose.

We suddenly turn into rabid animals sniffing the chicken, biting the chicken, then putting it back. It was a scene. When it was all said and done, I have to say it was really good. Although everyone went nuts from the spicy, I would make the argument that the soy garlic might have been too sweet without the spicy chicken paired with it.

 I sneak off to the bathroom, and request a candle and dessert for our birthday girl. Frozen yogurt! Yes! Tastes just like Pinkberry. As we’re winding down I see Miss Wednesday sucking the gigantic ice cube into her mouth, rolling it around, and then spitting it back into her glass…it’s time to go home.

Mono + Mono (grapefruit flavored Soju)

It’s alcohol. It’s fine with me.

Mono + Mono (mango salad)

A little creamy, but we each had a a bites, so great for a few bites, but definitely get it to share, not for yourself.

Mono + Mono (fries)

These were actually unreal! I “love potatoes” too. We ordered a second round of these. It came with 3 dipping sauces. One is a spicy mayo, which my friend almost spit out after already eating the spicy chicken (still funny).

Mono + Mono (spider roll)

Look at this monster! The pickiest eater of our friends decided it looked too good to not try, and surprise, she liked it! It’s deep fried and covered in sauce…puh-lease.

Mono + Mono (Ninja roll)

Looks cray right? We each got a roll or two depending on who didn’t want this particular dish. I definitely would get them to share, because they’re good for a taste, but not a whole meal.

Mono * Mono (fried chicken)

Here it is! Can you tell which one is spicy, and which one is sweet? I don’t care I’d eat them again just to watch everyone freak out.

Yuca Bar  [Click the photo above to go to Yuca Bar’s website]

111 Avenue A (corner of 7th Street), New York NY 10009

Thirsty Thursday + March Madness = great time to go out.

 After much anticipation, I finally made it to Yuca Bar! Yay! Wisconsin and Syracuse game was also on (I’m a Wisconsin alumni, and the rest of my family is Syracuse alumni, smack talking was wild all day) so it was hard for me to choose: yummy dinner or supportive alumni. I went with yummy dinner (I have a food blog! Sports are never going to win unless I’m dying to see some guy that’s watching the game), and decided to bother my friend for constant updates via texts.

 We opted to walk there (nice out, and burn some cals before a not so skinny meal) so armed with a Wisco t-shirt (Look! I’m hardcore!) and sunglasses, I grabbed an iced coffee, and strolled to meet my friend further downtown closer to the restaurant.

 As soon as I meet up with her, she points to my coffee, and makes this gesture with her hands that look like she’s suffocating a wildebeest: “Supress!” she screams.

 “If I didn’t get this iced coffee I would have made us stop and eat at the closest restaurant.” And I wanted to make it to Yuca Bar.

 The walk entailed a few screaming outbursts and a debate if we were on the right side of the street (I think it’s there. I think you’re wrong…I was wrong)

 It is over 70 degrees and my jeans are sticking to my body.

 I point to my pants, and scream, “Glued!”


 We suddenly realize there are people next to us listening to us talk about how sweaty we are, and start laughing and keep screaming, “Gross! Disgusting!”

 I then see a big black Labrador sitting outside the restaurant and I go to pet it.

 My friend goes “ew don’t do that.”

 My hand is 4 inches from the dog’s face, and I pause, “no? This is a bad idea?”

 “I mean to each their own”

 I pet the dog and go, “I’ll just wash my hands.”

 We walk into the restaurant.

 “2 please, can we sit outside?”

 The host points to my iced coffee, and I look for a place to throw it out, and instead just put it on the hostess stand (whatever).

 “Nothing is available.”

 I look outside and I see a bunch of tables. “But there are seats right there?”

 “Oh for dinner!” then seats us (are you confused, because I was!)

 We sit down and the waitress tells us about their drink specials ($5!!). She described one as “alcohol mixed with alcohol.”

 “2 please!”

 “What should we order?”

“I think I’ve been looking at the wrong menu all day.”

 The waitress walks over and we order guacamole to start (who needs to look at a menu to order that? Puh-lease!)

 We order the arepa con carne, fish tacos (pescado…see I can do Spanish), and plantains stuffed with pork.

 “So we’ll get meat, fish, and pork.”

 “We’re so easy!” (are we??)

 “I kind of want rice and beans.”

 “So we can get them, we’ll just need a second table to fit all the food.”

 The waitress comes over to take our orders, and at the last minute my friend goes, “are the rice and beans big?”

 “No, they’re small.”

 “And that too!”

 Everything was yummy! My favorite dish was the arepa, because it was sweet and it soaked up all the flavors from the meat. We had to move plates around to put it closer to me.

 “Everything is so good!”

 “I know it’s really good.”

 “Your voice went up at the end. You don’t think it’s that good.”

 “I do, I think it’s really good! It went up again didn’t it?”

 “It did.”

 “I don’t know that’s weird.”

 The meal went off without a hitch except that not one, not two, but THREE homeless men stopped to ask us for change. Do my friend and I attract that sort of attention? This is our new dating pool??

 The owner politely scurried them away from us as we awkwardly cringed and tried to pretend they were not there. He was really nice and apologized, explaining that because the restaurant is near a park there are a lot of homeless people in the area (so we’re not causing this? Phew!).

 “She has a food blog!” my friend screams in the owner’s face.

 “Oh, wow, you do?” We got a free round of drinks! I couldn’t believe it!

 Strong drinks, good food, friendly wait staff, I was in heaven with exception to the threatening texts I received from my family through out the whole meal about the basketball game: Booyah! You’re going down! Fool’s Gold (I was confused by that one)!

 I was a little drunk and I told my dad to suck it after Wisconsin lost. That is not appropriate, and I don’t recommend texting that to a parent.

 On that note, I will be returning to Yuca Bar just not when a basketball game is on.

Yuca Bar (happy hour special drink)

It was mixed with real acai berries, which are supposed to be super healthy! I don’t know if this drink was healthy, but it was strong and good!

Yuca Bar (salsa and guacamole)

Basic but always good. So easy to fill up on this!

Yuca Bar (tacos de pescado)

Deep fried what up! I love crunchy cole slaw with fried fish. It was good, but the fish need a little somethin somethin so I dipped it in the guac.

Yuca Bar (arepa con carne)

Here is my favorite dish! Isn’t it just so pretty? It was difficult to cut in half, and it didn’t look so cute afterwards, but I did not care one bit!

Yuca Bar (platano relleno)

I have a soft spot for plantains, I have no idea why. Some people don’t like pork, but it’s a juicier meat, and the whole dish was delic!

Kanoyama: 175 2nd Avenue  New York, NY 10003

Momofuku Milk Bar: 251 E 13th St # A New York, NY 10003

 After a celebratory St Patty’s Day I was really looking forward to a relaxing Sunday. I went to the gym to burn off yesterday’s alcohol and pizza, but I don’t know how productive it was since I spent the majority of the expedition texting (what? I was on the bike!), and then I showered and settled in to start Book #2 of the Hunger Games. I scheduled dinner with 2 friends for later so I wouldn’t get antsy in my apartment.

 After reading only G-d knows (I know too) how many pages I realize I have to get up to go the lady’s room, because I haven’t moved in quite a long time. I decide to take a brief reprieve and check my phone, and see that my dinner plans friend has called.  Slight panic creeps inside me: She’s cxling! She’s changed the place to something really unhealthy! No, I didn’t answer in time and she went for linner. Plans foiled!

 Nope, she’s gone for a walk with our other friend and wants to know if I want to join them.

 “No, but if you sit outside somewhere I’ll meet you.” (I didn’t want to give up on Hunger Games quite yet).

“I think we might sit at BBar.”

“K, let me know!”

 Legitimatley 2 minutes later I receive a text, “we’re outside BBar.”

 I realize I’ve been sitting inside like a cavewoman and need to get myself together.

 “Are you guys wearing leggings, because I am?”…a minute later “Nevermind, I’m not changing.”

 I throw on lipgloss and sunglasses, debate about wearing a scarf (veto it), and head out.

 As soon as I get there…

 “I love your lipgloss!”


 I see they’re wearing spring attire on their feet, while I’m sporting my new sneakers (girlyfoodie + Justin Bieber = same closet). Win some you lose some.

 “You have to go inside to get a drink.”

 …decisions, decisions. Get the drink before I get settled, or hear stories and then get a drink? I don’t know! I don’t know!

 “You do not want to know what we’ve eaten already today…”

 I guess I’ll wait to get the drink.

 “I’ve had the worst day!”

“She’s had the worst day!”

 (sometimes they mimic each other)

 They went to support their friend who ran the half marathon, and on the train ride home a runner puked on my friend.

 “She puked on me”

“She got puked on!”

“The lady said it was spit up, but I got thrown up on.”

“She had the worst day!”

 Drink time.

 Bartender lady was sort of a biotch. She was wearing a beanie, and I immediately wasn’t her biggest fan (she wasn’t mine either). She took forever to pour me my beer (Listen lady, I am having serious FOMO, and I didn’t bring my phone to distract me. HAND ME MY DRINK so I can go back outside and socialize!).

 When I return:

 “I want guacamole.”

“We’re eating dinner soon.”

“Should we get guacamole?”

“Well, with the kind of day we’re already havin…”

“I want to have room for dinner.”

“Where should we go for dinner?”

“I still want guacamole.”

Dinner plans are decided on. We shall go to Kanoyama. Sushi, a few blocks away.

 “Should we get the sushi for 3?”

“Do you want sushi pieces?”

“It’s like sashimi with rice underneath.”

“Should we do it?”

“I want a seaweed salad”

 Waitress comes over.

 “We’ll have the sushi for 3 please”

 “It really is such a great deal. We’ll definitely be happy with it.”

 Turns out we were really happy with it: wide assortment and TONS of sushi. It’s hard to feel fat and weighed down from sushi. Although I always say it just takes that one last piece to put you over the edge. We ended up leaving 3 pieces behind on the oversized plate. Probably so later we could say we didn’t eat the whole thing.

 Conversation shifts:

 “I got my palm read on a date, and the fortune teller said I’m going to have a baby…soon. And it was really awkward, because it was our first date.”


 “I don’t want to get pregnant.”

“I’m going to get so fat.”

“I don’t think you will.”

“My face will be huge.”

“I’m going to have a c-secton”


I should point out that there is a couple sitting 6 inches away from us not even speaking to one another, and just listening to our conversation. GET YOUR OWN CONVERSATION AND STOP JUDGING US. What kind of couple are you that just sit there and hold hands over your miso soup?  I’m realizing it’s a pattern that my neighboring patrons always seem to be listening to my conversation. Do I have weird conversations? Am I just loud (yes, I’m definitely loud)? Am I paranoid? Or am I just THAT interesting?

 “Where is our check?”

“Is she ignoring us?”

“I’m getting antsy.”

“We’re still going to Momofuku Milk Bar right?”


“There’s a line. I’m cold, I’m going home.” (man down, she leaves but turns around twice to see if we’re still on line…we are)

 I have never been to Momofuku Milk Bar before, I’m not goin’ anywhere.

 “What do I order here?”

“Everything is amazing.”

 I end up ordering the peanutbutter cookie, and shove it in my sweatshirt pocket. I stroll home and do back to back conversation with my dad, and then my mom.

 As I’m heading into the elevator, my impatience gets the best of me, and I start chomping on my cookie. It was SO delicious! Unfortunately I was holding in my delight so my mom wouldn’t ask me why I was making such weird noises.

 My mom pauses for a second, “What are you eating?”


Kanoyama (seaweed salad)

That is a lot of sesame seeds. My friend wanted a seaweed salad with her sushi combo. She said it had “a lot of different types of seaweed in it.”

Kanoyama (miso soup).

Sushi for 3 comes with a choice of soup or salad. I opted for soup, and it was a great start to the meal.

Kanoyama  [Click the photo above to go to  Kanoyama’s website]

You can see my friend’s claws going at the sushi as I try to take a picture of it. I attacked piece after piece.

Momofuku Milk Bar [Click the photo above to go to  Momofuku’s website]

I know they look like regular cookies, but they are definitely not. My friend got the  cornflake marshmallow chocolate chip and the blueberries and cream cookie. I opted for simple peanut butter. If it ain’t broke don’t fix it. It was so gooey. I hesitated in turning on the television, because I didn’t want to stop eating my snack.

Mayahuel  [Click the photo above to go to  Mayahuel’s website]

 340 East 6th Street (between 1st and 2nd Avenue), New York, NY 10003

 Thirsty Thursday! I had dinner plans at Mayahuel last night. Resies (reservations) were at 9:30 so that meant I could squeeze the gym in, woohoo! KILLED IT, but I have a little cough, so I had to retire after my cough went a little wacky on the bike. Peace gymmy.

 Ordered 2 miso soups (30 cals eachhhhh) and some sushi pieces so I wasn’t cray cray before drinks. 9:30, pshh, a snack/dinner was inevitable.

 Emailed myself the address to Mayahuel and then I hit the road. The restaurant is a weird black building with some sort of Spanish architecture so I figured that was the place.

 I told the taxi driver the address and when he pulled up he said “yeah I think that’s it. It’s a bar.”

 I actually really liked him. We talked about the weather…but he was eating the WORST smelling sandwich. Sir, c’mon. Turkey. Go with turkey next time.

 Some weird bouncer/skinny man is standing outside and I asked him, “what is the name of this place?”


“Oh ok great”

“Do you have a reservation?”

“I’m not sure. I think so I think it’s under my friend’s name.” I then give his name.

“Oh, ok just let me see your ID” (makes me feel young again)

 When I walk in my friend is wearing a leather jacket so thank G-d I last minute vetoed mine otherwise we would have looked like Grease Lightning up in this joint. One leather jacket is fine…two is a statement.

 Menu looks like a small book from Colonial times, so I was a little overwhelmed. We decided to just ask the waiter what he recommended. And he was a ridiculous human if I’ve ever seen one. He looked like he was trying too hard to be casual, like ”I’m not really your waiter, but I’ll take your order” sorta deal…shaggy hair, a cartilage piercing (im sorry what? this isn’t in the 90s…where is your hemp necklace?) and he gave crazy descriptions of the drinks…stop playing with your hair and recommend a drink dude.

 I ordered the “hit or miss,” and I swear I originally thought the waiter was saying the “hit or miss” was either a hit or a miss…and I was just like why the eff would I want a drink that’s usually a hit or a miss? It ended up being really good…I had 3. That’s completely reasonable right? They were spicy, which I always give a fab rating for.

 “You have a great smile.” GUILTY AS CHARGED.

 “Should we order something? You do have a food blog.” (this blog is really working out)

 Ordered the fried stuffed plantains. There were 6 (in my head of course: so three for me and three for him. That’s reasonable. G-d forbid I ate four and he ate two. Blasphemy.)

 YUM! Tried to eat like a lady, but I might have finished my portion before him.

 “I read your blog.”

“You did? Did you think it was funny? Did you laugh out loud? Too girly?” (I am completely secure with my writing style)

“I read the Employees Only one.”

“Oh, because you were in it?”

 Yep, let’s talk about how I portrayed you in my blog. I don’t feel weird at all about it. How can I type a story for the blog if all I talk about is the blog? I’m gonna talk about the process of me writing the blog on the blog…that’s boring.

 A few drinks in and nature was calling. As I got up to use the restroom I knocked into our table and the people next to us stared at me…they actually stared at us the entire meal, and I really wanted to just be like, “MIND YA BUSINESS” (instead I pretended it wasn’t a big deal that I wasn’t skinny enough to fit between the tables and sauntered to the bano.)

I got back from the bathroom at the perfect time…it was time for dessert. CHURROS…o’lay. Fried dough, cinnamon, in a chocolate and caramel dipping sauce. HOW DISGUSTING? NOT.

The cinnamon was starting to aggravate my cough, and I kept digging into my bag like an 85 year old woman for cough drops.

 “Are you sick?”

Nope, just a weirdo who digs for candy between sips of alcohol and bites of food.

Time to leave before my cough causes the restaurant to be quarantined.

 “Do you want to walk?”

UH…I wore some sort of a heel, and my hair doesn’t just dry like this, it’s also misting out. Are.you.kidding?

 “We’re like 30 blocks away…” (ok 20 whose counting)

 “I like to walk.”


 “Ok, lets hail a cab”

Mayahuel (fried plantains stuffed with cheese)

I didn’t think I’d love this as much as I did. savory sweet combo, and then I dipped it in the spicy sauce…unreal.

Mayahuel (churros in a chocolate and caramel sauce)

DELICIOUS. Sugary dessert probably doesn’t go amaze with a spicy drink, but I mean you can suck it up.

Mayahuel (“hit or miss” is the one closest to the front, and I forgot the other one…sorry!)

YUMMY. I’ll say it once, I’ll say it twice, spicy drinks are the best!

Arcane  [Click the photo above to go to Arcane’s website]

111 Ave C (between 7th and 8th Street), New York, NY 10009

I don’t know why Thursday nights always seem like the best night to plan a dinner (with alcohol), but for some reason they do. Maybe it’s because I like to pretend I’m in college and convince myself my weekend has started (it didn’t. I have work. Surprise! You’re hung-over eating a bacon egg and cheese in your cubicle)

 Anywho! I planned dinner with my cuz (that means cousin) to try Arcane, a French/Caribbean themed restaurant (maybe we’ll feel like we’re in St. Barth’s) on Ave C. She lives in Grammercy, and it was a good excuse to stay relatively nearby. The idea of dragging myself to the other side of town just seemed exhausting ($11 cab? What? I’ll just put it on my credit card and act like it never happened). I picked my cousin up on the way (splitting a cab is the best) and off we went!

 We walk in, and we are greeted and seated. Drink menus are on the table so decisions have to be made immediately. Unfortunately the restaurant was pitch black with the exception of teensy weensy candles placed on each table, and a few lamps randomly placed throughout the restaurant (I feel like the electricians were like “Let’s just put it here. They can walk their table over to the light to see). I put the candle up to the menu trying to decipher the shapes on the white piece of paper (I felt like an explorer inside a cave trying to read stories from an indigenous people that were long extinct, but not really at all). It was actually pretty annoying.

 I ordered a little number called the “Moulin rouge.” French theme I guess. It had some raspberry/lime thing happening I felt drawn to. My cousin on the other hand had a little bit more trouble deciding… to say the least.

 “Fig juice? That sounds delicious, but I don’t like orange juice. Do you think I should ask them what they recommend? Will they get mad at me?”

 The waitress unfortunately had a thick accent (I want to say French, but really what do I know?), and she was pretty much impossible to understand. My cousin panicked and picked some mango infused drink, and when the waitress walked away she whispers to me, “I really don’t want the mango in it…” Then that was not a good choice!

 Time for the nitty gritty, ordering the meal. I had purposely worn tight jeans so I would not go insane at Arcane (judge away for that one).

 “do you want to split appetizers?”


“I want the papaya salad.”

“I want the shrimp, avocado, and hearts of palm salad”

(so we’re not really splitting. We’re pretty much ordering what we want, but yeah let’s say we’re splitting)

 Main dish: we both end up ordering the tuna “From the Grill.” The waitress looks at my cousin and says something that neither of us can understand (and since it’s so dark it’s not like you can even attempt to read lips). My cousin starts laughing like a hyena and goes, “what?”

 It’s still unintelligible.

 My cousin is now getting uncomfortable and laughing even more, “I’m so sorry! What?”

 It still sounds like Chinese to both of us. Now it’s just awkward to say, “what,” again and her next move is to just blindly guess what the waitress is saying, “how do I want my tuna cooked?”

 The waitress nods. Thank G-d! We got it right!

 “Rare please!” DONE. Mercury poisoning is not real (yes it is).

 We also ordered sides…why not right?? Spinach, and a gratin (“we’ll share them,” we say confidently).

 We were both really pleased with our salads. Mine was a little spicy, which I like, and my cousin dug for hearts of palm like a deep sea fisherman. Then the tuna comes, and so do another round of drinks. My cousin opted for my Moulin Rouge, and I ordered it again.

 By the time dessert rolled around, I was already tipsy and my cousin was up to drink #3.

 “Do you want dessert?” the waitress asks. WE CAN UNDERSTAND THAT.

 “Yes! Chocolate cake” (what upp)

 As we wait for the cake my cousin motions towards her vodka soda “Here have some of my drink!” She goes to hand me some, and she realizes the drink is empty. Nevermind…

 With exception to the minimal lighting, the food was really good, and we were in a tropical setting (I mean we drank like we were) in the beginning of March. Go Arcane!

Arcane (Moulin Rouge cocktail)


Arcane (mango infused cocktail)

Arcane (bread)

It was great! The oil on the side had garlic and peppers mixed in (YUM). Thank G-d I had those tight pants on otherwise I would have had trouble resisting the urge to eat all of it!

Arcane (papaya salad)

So good! I took a picture of the other salad, but the picture didn’t do it enough justice.

Arcane (gratin)

Crispy goodness with a little bacon. I ain’t mad.

Arcane (chocolate cake)

I started eating, and then realized I should probably take a picture, so a little corner is missing.

Arcane (tuna)

Look how gigantic it is! I also ate 1/4 of it before I took this picture!

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