Forgetting the trusty ole Cybershot in D.C. means that the next few posts will have grainy, poorly-lit shots from my iPhone. Super duper sorries about that.
OK, so I wasn’t going to admit that I knew about Boqueria only from watching Food Network’s The Next Iron Chef: Season 2, in which the chef-owner (Seamus Mullen) makes it all the way to the penultimate episode…but that’s how I heard about this tapas spot. Deal with it.
Nevertheless, I was thrilled to reconnect with an old friend over Coles de Bruselas y Chorizo (Brussels sprouts with chorizo), Patatas Bravas (crispy potatoes, “salsa brava,” and roasted garlic aioli), some cheeses (Tetilla, Cana de Cabra, and La Serena), and a Berkshire pork dish whose exact name I can’t recall. That last one was flavorful, but the texture and abundance of straight-up fat left me feeling a bit like I was trapped in the Andes feasting on human flesh to save my life. Not that that’s necessarily a bad thing.
100 or so dollars later, we decided to skip the desert menu and hit up my Chelsea standby, Billy’s Bakery. I’ve taken home desserts from here more often than any other bakery in the city, by far. There’s something wonderful about the combination of cheesy 50’s appliances, hot hot jamz (think, 90’s Brittney), and unapologetically sloppy cakes that gives it a real charm. I took home a caramel miniature cheesecake and a slice of coconut cream pie, both to be “share” with J. The decadence of the pie is almost unbearable. Almost.