What A Girl Is Really Thinking When It Comes To Food

Category Archives: Flatiron

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

53 west 19th street (between 5th and 6th Ave) New York, NY 10011

After fully gorging myself from a holiday weekend, I decided to continue this path of destruction by going out to dinner with two friends.

I had just seen American Reunion (it’s what you would expect), and we decided to keep the momentum going by walking to a place nearby for an early dinner. Only two of us went to the movies, so the other one met us at the restaurant. In the interim we decided to grab a drink. While drinking, we decided it would be a great idea to get another drink at dinner. What planning!

We’re idiots and decided to eat “light” by going to Boqueria for tapas (light, I’m sure). We were trying to keep kosher for Passover, so NO bread!  How bad could we possibly eat?

The two of us walk into the restaurant, and it’s pretty empty. I would say it’s a surprise, but most people don’t eat dinner at 6pm on a Sunday (or ever).

“3 please.”

The hostess looks around the restaurant like it’s packed to the gills and responds, “Sure, just let me know when your other person is here.”

Yes, because people are climbing over each other to get a seat. Let’s definitely make us wait in the front. Our friend arrives with ballet flats on and announces her foot keeps cramping up, “I hate when that happens.”

The hostess then seats us at a communal table. There are 3 of us, and no one is in the restaurant. Lets seat us at our own table. I know you don’t know us, but you don’t want us near the other guests.

As soon we sit down, my friend goes, “I want the spinach. I want the mackerel. I definitely want the steak. We need to get steak.”



It’s tapas so the menu isn’t that extensive, but we are really diving in.

“I want the patatas bravas. If you guys don’t want them, I still have to have them.” Wow, easy killer. Who said we couldn’t get them (they fit the Passover bill)? I picture her with this plate in front of her never coming up for air.

“I love those. Definitely!” I say.

Then little Miss Spinach goes, “There are four things, we definitely need to get. The rest I don’t care.” FOUR THINGS?? Most people put in a two dish request, she puts in for four, and they’re all mandatory.

They were: the spinach, the hanger steak, the shrimp, and the lamb meatballs.

I wasn’t opposed to any of this, so those were put on our definite lists.

I threw out the bacon wrapped dates. Bacon is kosher for Passover!

Miss Patatas Bravas overlapped with Miss Spinach on the meatballs on her top 5 list, so we were good to go.

The waitress comes over, “Can I get you guys something to drink?”

Sangria! Ay ay ay ay!

This poor waitress. She was on the quiet side, and we’re just not on the quiet side.

Time to order. After feeling like we had gone overboard I ask the waitress, “is this too much?”

She shockingly comes back with, “I would get one more if I were you.” Ok, wow! We decide we can just order another dish as we move along, to see how hungry we are.

We all dive into to each dish as they are served somewhat staggered. Stuffed dates first, amazing, but there are only three. Biotch please.

Then spinach and potatoes.

“My type is Michael Cera.”

“Really? I don’t know one person you have dated or hooked up with that remotely resembles Michael Cera.”

“Yeah, like cool but a little dorky, but not dorky and kinda cool.”

I continue attacking the patatas bravas.

“No one else is eating this.”

“Are you kidding? I am too!”

Then comes meatballs and hanger steak. Both great!

“What is that with the steak?”

“I think it’s squash.”

“I like squash.”


“Which movie did you like better, 21 Jump Street or American Reunion?”

“I haven’t seen 21 Jump Street yet.”

“It’s hysterical!”

Check magically appears and we realize we never ordered a sixth dish. UH OH.

“Let’s get Tasti.”

“Great idea.”

Boqueria (red sangria)

Great! Picked some of the fruit out and nibbled on it…in public.

Boqueria (datiles con beicon)

Dates stuffed with almonds and Valdeon, wrapped in bacon.

It was a blessing and a curse that there were only 3 of these. I could have eaten ten more!

Boqueria (espinacas a la Catalana)

Sauteed spinach, garbanzos, pine nuts, garlic, raisins.

Just because it’s green doesn’t mean it’s great for you. Smothered in oil, it was yummy and sweet, but who cares? I kept Passover.

Boqueria (patatas bravas)

Crispy potatoes, salsa grava, roasted garlic allioli

Crispy potatoes with a garlic sauce on top and a red sauce at the bottom to shmush (that is a big girl word) the potatoes in at the bottom? It’s never a bad idea.

Boqueria (gambas al ajillo)

Shrimp, garlic and Guindilla pepper in olive oil.

It tasted like it was doused in butter and oil. Not to say that is bad, but don’t think you’re being healthy by ordering shrimp. Lies! All lies!

Boqueria (albondigas)

Lamb meatballs, tomato sauce, sheep’s milk cheese.

I don’t know if I’m one to judge what is deemed light, and what is deemed heavy, but I’d venture to say that for meatballs, it tasted light, and didn’t make you feel weighed down afterwards.


200 5TH Avenue, New York, NY 10010

I know most people’s idea of Sunday Funday is getting drunk and watching sports at a bar, but my idea of a Sunday Funday is way different. My male bff is a wonderful chef, and I like to go for food adventures with him on Sundays especially when it’s nice out (good strolling weather). It’s literally the perfect Sunday: I get exercise (walking burns fat ppl), I get to be involved with food without spending any money, and I get to pretend he’s my boyfriend (he does not like the lady variety), while we walk arm in arm throughout the city. It’s pretty much a win win for me. Did I mention it was also the Oscars? SUNDAY FUNDAY

He decided his Sunday meal was going to be veal scallopine (sure whatever makes your meat loaf), so off we went to the Whole Foods in Chelsea. Unfortunately they had no veal medallions for my Sunday lover, and we needed to explore other options…

Having never been to Eataly I immediately suggested it for this veal medallion excursion. Eataly is not exactly for the el cheapo weapos, and my friend..well hes pretty effing cheap so I was SHOCKED when he agreed to purchase his meat there.

SCORE! I could explore Eataly without eating anything, and I could get a legitimate tour from my fake boyfriend. Apparently I was not the only one who thought Eataly would be a great place to go for a Sunday, because it was PACKED. We blew past the gelato line, hurried through the bakery section, scurried past the fish and caviar section, but no dice with the homemade pasta section. I ooh’d. I ah’d. Hinting in the worst possible ways that maybe we should ditch the veal and go for some good old fashioned pasta.  “HAVE YOU EVER MADE PASTA BEFORE? ARE YOU GOING TO GET SOME? IT LOOKS GREAT..” I screamed as he dragged me to the meat counter (can’t blame a gal for trying).

The people behind the counter were super helpful and friendly, the customers not so much. In an approximate two minute span 3 snippy male patrons screamed “I WAS HERE FIRST,” while I got pummeled by a shopping basket. “Excuse me!” they yelled. YEAH EXCUSE YOU! I immediately wanted to be returned to my homeland, the pasta section. I then got sidetracked as I saw a pizza station in the back “have you ever made pizza before?” I asked. I was like an eight year old with attention deficit disorder learning fractions for the first time.

To my pal’s delight, they not only pounded the veal for him, they also charged him for veal liver instead of veal medallions (“IT’S HALF THE PRICE” he screamed. I thought he was going to have a heart attack. Relax it’s not like they gave us a free cheese platter. Now THAT’S something to shout from the rooftops)

Now that we had what we came for it was time to pay. NOT SO FAST. I’M NOT DONE HERE. Off we went to the cheese section. “ooooh” I screamed as I saw stacked blocks of cheese the size of  fire logs. I went to touch it to make sure it wasn’t a mirage, and it definitely was not, because grease was suddenly smeared all over my hand. EW GROSS. I look up to see a sign that says, “Display. Please Do Not Touch” TOO LATE.

We then checked out the produce section. He was really having trouble with what mushrooms to cook with this veal. GET THEM ALL. GET THEM ALL. He browsed, but then decided he’d check out Chelsea Market without me to get the rest of his supplies. It was perfect: I went home and watched the Live Red Carpet special, while my friend slaved away in the kitchen. Like I said..SUNDAY FUNDAY!


Eataly (pasta section)

Eataly (cheese section)

Eataly (meat section)

I stole these pictures, because I was too overwhelmed to even think about taking pictures for this post. Please do not judge me.

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