Wow, as I pause LSAT studying to write this, I realize that this dinner was the last real meal out I’ve had.

Alma de Cuba is a Stephen Starr restaurant. Unlike most other restaurants in Philly of its caliber, it is open on Mondays. I went with a party of seven — it was a lot, but the staff did its best. I ordered. We got:

• PAN DE BONO manchego cheese, yucca flour, chimichurri
• OXTAIL CROQUETAS rabo encendido croquetas, roasted bone marrow, pickled onion, grated idiazabal cheese & natural jus
• CEVICHE TASTING with THAI COCONUT MIXTO lobster, shrimp, calamari, cucumbers, grape tomatoes, Thai basil, sweet lime, and coconut leche de Tigre, WHITE TIGER SALMON sliced salmon, yuzu, daikon, fennel fronds, white soy leche de tigre & ikura salmon roe, and YELLOWTAIL TIRADITO sliced yellowtail, sweet potato chayote salpicon, aji Amarillo & passionfruit vinaigrette
• ROYAL PALM DATES almond-stuffed dates wrapped in bacon, endive, coconut gelée & cabrales bleu cheese
• OCTOPUS spanish octopus terrine & grilled baby octopus, white bean purée, lemon-fennel vinaigrette
• SUGAR CANE TUNA black bean purée, sweet plantains, frisée, sundried tomato & piquillo pepper mojo, oregano oil, queso fresco
• LECHON ASADO crispy skin roasted pork, kidney bean & bacon congri rice, sour orange, oregano & garlic mojo
• VACA FRITA slowly braised then pan seared skirt steak, black beans, white rice, sliced avocado & tomato escabeche
• RED WINE BRAISED GOAT coffee-roasted carrot, piquillo peppers, olives, casabe
• SHORT RIB ROPA VIEJA white wine & tomato sofrito braised shortribs, manzanilla olive & piquillo pepper escabeche, plantain strips, arroz blanco
• TRES LECHES vanilla sponge cake, three milks, coconut gelée, caramelized bananas & Mexican chocolate ice cream
• CHOCOLATE CIGAR almond cake, chocolate mousse & dulce de leche ice cream

The pan de bono was the best bread I’ve eaten this year. I would pass on the octopus, tuna, lechon asado, and chocolate cigar next time though. The octopus was forgettable, the tuna was boring, the lechon asado was not memorable, and the cigar (while fun to look at) was nothing special.

The ceviches, oxtail croquetas, and royal palm dates (shown behind the ceviches and octopus) were all good, but they didn’t wow me. I’m not sure I would try them again, but I would the tres leches. That night, I found the sponge cake itself to be oversaturated with sweet milk and too sticky/dense, but the components that accompanied it, in particular: the coconut gelée, were phenomenal.

Very high highlights included two of the following: vaca frita, red wine braised goat, and short rib ropa vieja. I say two because, while all three were delicious, two of them (I think the latter) made me “oh” audibly. I thought about these dishes for a good couple of days after and looking at pictures of them now makes me salivate.

Alma de Cuba was originally published in Eater Eats on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

While working as a production assistant for Igudesman and Joo, I met a girl who offered to help me pack up at the end of rehearsal one night. She was the only one out of a group of people that came to watch who did.

I liked her energy, so I connected with her on Instagram. A week or so later, we made plans to get brunch and a week after that, we got brunch.

We ate at Claro, a new Michelin star recipient. We ordered one item each: I got a pork memela (Heritage pork rib, chile de arbol, farm cheese) and she got the roasted beets and avocado tostada (queso fresco, mint).

The dishes were beautiful and delicious. I didn’t get to take notes while eating, because I wanted to focus my attention on getting to know this new person I was with, but I distinctly remember how bright and balanced the flavors of her tostada were.

I was still feeling a bit peckish after we finished the two things we ordered, so we got one more item to share: the huevos oaxaquenos (tomato broth, chicharron, queso fresco).

Typically a morning dish, “huevos oaxaquenos” literally translates to “drowned eggs”. While I enjoyed the flavors, I do wish my eggs had more to drown in.

Claro is somewhere I would be excited to go back to. I’d swap out the pork memela and huevos oaxaquenos for the chance to try something new, but I’d definitely order the tostada again. I’d also get at least 1.5 items per person; just one is not enough.

Claro was originally published in Eater Eats on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

All meals should aspire to be like this meal. Everything, from the decor to the service to the company to the food, was easy. Just remembering it makes me feel happy and metaphorically full.

Sam and I decided to get dinner after work one day. Taking advantage of our already being in Queens, I looked up Bib Gourmands in Flushing and picked Alley 41 because it had the best looking menu and website.

When we arrived (after running around in the sleet like dummies — totally Sam’s fault) the restaurant was fairly empty. It got a little busier throughout the night, but the weather was truly horrid, “stay at home” weather.

From an iPad with helpful pictures, we ordered the squishiest dan dan noodles (成都擔擔麵) I have ever had the pleasure of chewing, the scallion pancake (蔥油餅) which was totally #satisfying, and a SMALL portion of the braised fish fillet with veggies and roasted chili (水煮魚片). I emphasize the word small because LOOK AT THAT GENEROUS-ASS PORTION. Hot damn!

Side note: I had to pause writing this story and eat breakfast because thinking about how good everything was made me hungry.

There’s not much else to say. The staff clearly cared about the restaurant, so it broke my heart when the people at the table next to us acted like divas/there was some cash v. card confusion when it came to paying our bill. I tipped extra to alleviate my feeling of shame, both second and firsthand, respectively.

I hope Alley 41 thrives. It is a place that reminds me of the American Dream, filled with hardworking people trying to make a better life for themselves, and I cannot wait to go back.

Alley 41 was originally published in Eater Eats on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

When I think of hard tables to get in NYC, I think of Lilia and Atomix. That being said, at least Atomix announces when its reservations open. One time, I stayed up till midnight and still couldn’t get a reservation at Lilia.

My first attempt to dine at Lilia was on December 16th, 2018. I didn’t have a reservation, but I did have a meticulously planned day that included “showing up before 17:30 so that I would be the first to walk in and get walk-in seats”. The weather was terrible. It was raining cats and dogs and chimpanzees. I spent literal hours (the receipt is timestamped 14:58) cowering in a Juice Press nearby.

At around 17:00, I ran over to Lilia. When I got there, I was told all the walk-in seats had been taken. My mind went blank. The restaurant hadn’t even opened yet. How could all the walk-in seats be taken if the restaurant hadn’t even opened yet?

“We don’t want people to wait in the cold, so when the weather’s bad, we take names for walk-ins before the restaurant opens.”

Fuck. That. Noise. That’s not walk-in seating, that’s day-of reservations. Hell, Sonica lived three streets away and could have popped in at six in the morning to get seats then. I didn’t have to camp out in a Juice Press for two hours for my own birthday dinner.

Sonica arrived a little after 17:30. I was waiting in the adjoining Lilia Caffe to see if anything would become available. There was one seat at the bar, but I didn’t want to ditch Sonica. Sure, I like eating alone, but birthday dinner alone when I had plans to eat with someone else? Ugh.

The hostess brought a manager (I didn’t ask to speak with one!) over because she could see how disappointed I was. I told the manager how I sad I was about the whole affair and she gave me her card, then invited Sonica and I to have drinks and snacks at the Caffe, on the house.

Sonica and I didn’t want to be “those people”, so we politely declined, but asked to stay at the Caffe for a little while longer (it wasn’t busy) while we found another place to go. Of course the manager said yes, so we sat down and looked up the Michelin Guide. While we did, the barista made friendly conversation and pushed the freebies until Sonica got tea and I got a mocktail.

We didn’t have much of either. As soon as we decided on where to go, we made moves to leave, but neither of us had cash for a tip, so I asked another barista (not the one who served us) if she could charge a card for a tip somehow. She said yes.

Sonica took care of the check. We left. After we left, Sonica told me that she had been charged for the drinks.

What the true goddamn fuck?

For the second time that night, my mind went blank. I could not believe that after offering to serve us with compliments, they charged us. The bill itself was not absurd, but the situation was.

I wrote an email to the manager who had given me her card the next day. I thanked her and hers for their hospitality, which was truly commendable, but also noted that I was floored to be charged. When she responded, she apologized, reversed the charge, and helped me get a reservation.

And so, Sonica and I went back to Lilia on January 21, 2019. At this point, the meal is a bit of a blur, but I do have some notes:

• Lilia tries to fully book three turns (wow!) a night, so 150–160 on a slower Monday, 210 on a really good night.
• God bless our server, who had just been promoted from a backserver a few months ago, but it would have been nice if he matched the energy at our table a little more. I like to be a serious eater and learn about my food. He was a little too chipper about everything, so much so that after feeling like I was pulling teeth trying to learn more about the appetizer, I just gave up on asking questions.
• The grilled clams were overwhelmed with bitterness (not sour, bitter) from lemon; I feel as if they were sprayed with too much juice, the fritelle were deceptively simple superstars, the legendary agnolotti lived up to the hype, the mafaldini left too strong of a peppery aftertaste in my mouth, and the dessert was a choking hazard. Jesus, I watched Sonica cough on the chocolate powder, then immediately proceeded to do the same thing onto a plate that immediately became a piece of abstract art.
• Dude, on a night when the high was 14° and the low was 4° Fahrenheit, there was no heat in this restaurant. Is that even legal?

Overall, I’m disappointed. The way people talk about this restaurant, I expected my experience to be cozy and warm. Instead, service was forced and I was physically (lol) cold. As for the food — I’d go back tonight for another bowl of that agnolotti, but again, the way people talk about this restaurant, I expected everything I tasted to be perfect (not even mind-blowing, just cooked and seasoned correctly) and there were things that weren’t.

Once again, ugh. Just ugh.

Lilia was originally published in Eater Eats on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

My head hurts thinking about how to write this recap. I‘ve already spent an ungodly amount of time typing, then immediately deleting what I’ve written and I’m only on the second sentence.

Ugh, whatever. I think I just need to dive in. Here we go.

I made plans to eat at Atoboy (ah-TOE-boy) with a friend after a pole class. She had asked me for recommendations and it felt nice when she did; she explicitly said that I always knew good places to go, which is a compliment I truly appreciate since I think that I’ve put sincere, honest work into becoming an educated foodie.

Atoboy is the badass, three-course, $46 pre-fixe older sister to the posh, mult-course, $205 pre-fixe Atomix (ah-TOE-mix), which I have been babbling about since November or December of last year. It occupies what used to be a chicken deli in NoMad. The restaurant opens for dinner at 17:30 and advanced reservations are highly recommended. I tried to make one a few days out and couldn’t, but there are a few seats reserved for walk-ins, including at the bar.

So at 16-something-or-another, my friend and I walked over to the restaurant from the studio. We waited outside on a crisp day for the doors to open; I could see line-up happening inside. A family of three joined our waiting party at around 17:15. They had a reservation, but arrived early, joking that they didn’t want to be ten (fifteen?) minutes late and lose their seats.

The doors opened at 17:25. My friend and I entered, told the hostess we were walk-ins, and were offered a table right behind her stand that needed to be returned at 19:00. We took it.

The table was set with disposable chopsticks and napkins in a copper can by the wall and two beautiful plates. I flipped mine over and lost my mind over the imprint; it was gorgeous.

A backserver came to help us. We got water, we got menus, we got a spiel of the concept, we got some time to look at the menus, and then we got to order. Things were moving at a great pace.

After our orders were in, our server brought us a seaweed chip amuse. It was made by dehydrating, then deep-frying, two strips of nori glued together with rice paste.

Our first courses came shortly after. I ordered Yellowtail, she ordered Lotus Root. I asked the server where the yellowtail came from. He wasn’t sure and said he’d find out for me. Moments later, another server (manager?) approached our table. His name was Will and he had been with Atoboy since the very beginning.

Will told me that the yellowtail came from Japan and answered my favorite logistical questions: what’s the capacity (54), how many turns/night (~3), and how many covers/night (~150).

The first courses were great. The seaweed oil on the yellowtail and the sea beans were flavors I had not tasted before and I wanted a whole bowl of the tofu-mashed-with-seaweed crumbles on the lotus root, but for reasons completely unrelated to the food, things started getting a little shaky by the second course.

Again, I’ve spent an ungodly amount of time typing, then immediately deleting what I’ve written. I’ve also watched a MsMojo “Top 10 America’s Next Top Models Makeover Meltdowns” video to procrastinate getting into this, but whatever, just diving in again:

Bless her, but my friend was *struggling* with life and, in my attempts to make her feel better, I barely ate because I was preoccupied with talking. The Sunchoke dish I ordered was amazing, but I don’t know anything about it other than “I liked it”. Without solicitation, Will had come to answer any more questions I had, but I didn’t get to take good notes because I was rushing through our interaction so that I could return my attention to my friend.

That being said, as a result of my friend’s behavior, (and yikes, I realize that sounds awful — she’s a friend, not an experiment, and she was having a hard time, but how else am I supposed to describe what happened without making it even worse by going into detail?) I got to experience the most phenomenal service I’ve ever witnessed at a restaurant. When the third courses came, my friend was just not okay. Once again, Will started approaching me, but as soon as he saw my friend, he turned and walked the prompt fuck away. His discernment and decision to give us space instead of bulldozing on with “standard” service blew me away and still makes me cheer internally.

For the rest of the night, my friend and I were respectfully ignored by the staff. When 19:00 rolled around, nobody rushed us out. They were so generous we probably could have stayed there for the rest of the night, but I made moves to get us out of the door and that was that.

Atoboy was originally published in Eater Eats on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Oh boy, there were so many things leading up to this meal, specifically: an office drama re: my early morning craving for Mac’n’Cheese, an office drama re: my leveling up from a craving for Mac’n’Cheese to a craving for gnocchi, becoming fixated with the gnocchi from this restaurant, being threatened with delivery of gnocchi that was not gnocchi from this restaurant, and an office drama re: my leveling down from a craving for gnocchi from this restaurant to getting a prepackaged slice of key lime pie (the only thing I ate 36hrs prior to dinner because antibiotics threw my body all out of whack and then some) from the Dollar Store for lunch.

You would think that I would remember every detail of this meal with all the drama leading up to it, but honestly, if it weren’t for these pictures, I wouldn’t recall a damn thing except for the gnocchi.

With that being said, here a bullet list of thoughts that I have when I look at these pictures:

• Bread: the oil had lentils in it (i n t e r e s t i n g) and your buddy likes his bread crusty
• Antipasta: What the true goddamn fuck was this? Huh, actually, way too much research makes me think it’s the “Carciofi Saltati”, sauteed artichokes. Just had a hard time identifying it on the menu because the original dish (1) has shrimp which was removed because your buddy doesn’t like shrimp, (2) doesn’t mention tomatoes which are there, and (3) mentions pistachios and parmigiano cheese which weren’t there. Whatever. It was good.
• Mozzarella: It was fresh. This is a bigger deal than it should be. #InsideJoke #ShouldaGoneToWawa#RaspberryPannaCotta #MoreLikeRaspberryPannaCANNOTa
• Gnocchi: The description I read online that made me become fixated with the gnocchi at this restaurant was “homemade spinach and potato dumplings with taleggio cheese and radicchio”. I don’t think that’s what I actually got. Seems like this place changes its menu very often? This one, if I remember correctly, was made from blue or some other kind of potent cheese. Never had gnocchi like it before. Actually really liked it.
• Carni: lol once again, what the true goddamn fuck was this? I mean, obviously some kind of meat and potatoes, but I was too engrossed in conversation to realize what was being ordered and I’m not good enough to identify protein, which makes me go “huh”. I’ll have to work on that. Anyway, the potatoes were super duper tasty and the meat flaked off of the bone like nothing I have ever seen.
• Spinach: It was a side he ordered; it never came. The place did pick up by the time we got our entrees. One of the original apps we ordered (Fergati di Pollo: chicken liver sauteed with endive, radicchio, balsamic dressing served with soft polenta, which I remember trying to order because it was unique) was 86'd too.
• Amuse: Awww, they brought us these polenta cookies with some kind of fruit-jam-thing in them at the end of our meal. I loved what a homey touch it was. True dessert was acquired at Eddie’s Sweet Shop though. Yay ice cream. \BigHeartEyesEmoji

Il Poeta was originally published in Eater Eats on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

If I had to describe the past three weeks* of my life with one word, it would be “sick”, but not like the “dude, she got a reservation at Lilia!” sick; the “this-tickle-in-the-back-of-my-throat-is-actually-Strep-oh-God-I-am-so-sad-and-now-I-have-the-flu-and-now-my-flu-give-me-an-ear-infection-Jesus-Christ-Superstar-how-is-it-even-possible-to-be-this-uncomfortable” sick.

Happy new year.

In the midst of this fuckery, I hit up my girl Lana for some much needed emotional support. God bless her, she has seen me through my worst. #Fall2012 #Spring2013 #Summer2013 #Fall2013 #Spring2014 #Summer2014 #Fall2014 #Spring2015 #IWasBasicallyAShitInCollegeOkay?

Lana told me to pick a place for dinner and I choose Uncle Boons, the only Thai restaurant in NYC with a Michelin Star, in Nolita. We planned for 6:15, no reservation.

We needed a reservation. When I arrived at 6:20ish, (late because I was going to get there way too early, decided kill time by trying the CBD-infused flavor at Van Leeuwen on the way, then accidentally made friends with/talked to the scooper for entirely too long) the place was bumpin’ — as is there was not a half a square foot of space for anyone to stand in.

Lana and I cowered by a pillar for about ten minutes before two seats opened up at the very end of the bar farthest away from the kitchen. The hostess sat us down, then the bartender greeted us. I thought I wrote down his name, but apparently nah fam. I also thought I wrote down answers to questions I asked him, like “What’s the maximum capacity of the restaurant?” and “How many covers and turns do you do on average?” but nah fam. Looks like I was even less functional than I remember being. Thanks, Satan!

The menu at Uncle Boons is divided into five parts. Guests are recommended to order an item, all of which are meant to be shared, or two from each part. Lana and I decided to pass on the Ahaan Yang (“charcoal grilled goodies”) and sides, but ordered from the other three parts.

We started off with Huu Muu Sawan (“heavenly pig ears”, $7) from the Ahaan Kap Klaem (“drinking snacks”) section to go with Lana’s drink, a Mr. Rambutan ($14). Lana’s drink hit the table first and it was beautiful. I had never seen a drink that shade of purple before and the rambutan fruit garnish made me want to plant a tree to grow my own fruit to hallow out and make rambutan fairy lights with.

Y’all, let’s talk about those pig ears. If Medium had emojis, I would chuck the clapping one between each syllable of the following: they were de-li-cious. One of the most miserable things when I was sick was being unable to really taste food, but boy oh boy, could I taste these. If Uncle Boons mass produced these in bags, I would never buy Cheetos again and I love Cheetos more than I love Lana.

I also tasted the Kob Woonsen (garlic and soy marinated frogs’ legs over glass noodles with lemongrass and Thai herb salad, $15) from the Jaan Lek (“small plates”) section of the menu. Unfortunately, the taste was an overwhelming metallic tang that left both my and Lana’s mouth a little numb. On another note, the dish was not a cohesive eating experience. Because the bones were so small, Lana and I had to use our hands for the frog legs, then fork mouthfuls of noodles and salad, i.e. getting a bite that had all the components of the dish required too much effort.

Our Jaan Yai (“large plate”) was Kao Pat Puu (traditional crab fried rice with egg, cilantro, and lime, $26). I’m usually not one to order fried rice at dinner, but Lana has a weakness for crab fried rice and I was too weak to argue. It ended up being a solid choice though. The portion was a heaping mound and the dish was rich with butter. While I wasn’t blown away with it then, thinking about it now, I want it so much so that I just looked up if it were available at Uncle Boons Sister, the literal, 10-seat sister restaurant of Uncle Boons designed for take-out. It is not.

The night ended with dessert. Our bartender told us there was a kabocha special that I made him spiel twice, but still didn’t fully understand because the restaurant was loud and my left ear was defunct. There was also a coconut ice cream sundae.

I love ice-cream, but when given the choice between two foods, I always get the more unique option, so with a little bit of encouragement from two girls a few seats away from us at the bar, we got the kabocha special.

When servers arrived with dessert, there was a sparkler in it. Moreover, there was a second dessert. Our bartender had gotten us the sundae, on the house.

YO I JUST FOUND THE NOTEPAD MY DINNER NOTES WERE WRITTEN ON HOLLA HOLLA

Too bad I don’t feel like editing any of the things I already wrote. Fun fact though: the restaurant seats 75 with the bar seats and aims for 4 turns (crazy!) a night.

Anyway, the kabocha dessert was a healthy quarter of a kabocha pumpkin. The center had been filled with a custard made of kabocha and the side was bruleed and salted. It was a very “Asian” (lol Lana you reading this?) dessert.

The sundae was also “Asian”, but I enjoyed it much more. That in-house cane sugar whipped cream? The only kind I would shoot an adult film with. Toasted coconut? Yas queen work. The coconut ice cream? Actually good. And those candied peanuts? Out of this world. The dessert was just such a great balance of flavors. Each bite was so well composed.

And that was dinner. Would I recommend? Yes.

Uncle Boons was originally published in Eater Eats on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.