My mom and I do this thing where we go on trips, solely for food. Some people think it’s ludicrous, while others think that it’s awesome. I would have to side with both, actually.
The extent that my mom and I will travel and go to for food is sometimes ridiculous. Many times, like this time I’m about to describe, has me with my hands over my face, asking myself, “Oh my God, why are we doing this?” It’s not that it’s dangerous or reckless, it’s just a constant reminder that it’s something that will only happen when I’m with my mom on a trip for food.
Day .5 — Most people would say Day 1, I said Day .5. Why? Because most people like to get off the plane, go to their hotel room, unpack a little bit, relax, etc. You know, do all the things “normal” people would do.
My mom and I head to a restaurant — bags and all.
We (more like me) Google’d the location/phone number/hours of this restaurant as we were walking out of the airport. Normally that would be okay, until it turns out that heading to our hotel from La Guardia is kind of a hassle.
Which then prompts the question from my mom: “Why don’t we just go there now?”
Me: “What?”
Mom: “We could just head straight there instead of going back to the hotel first. Call the restaurant and see if they have space for our bags.”
Me: “No. What? I am not calling the restaurant to ask if they can hold our bags. This is ridiculous. I do not want to walk into a restaurant with all of our stuff.”
Long story short - Mom:1; Me: 0.
I did end up calling the restaurant and they did indeed have space for our luggage.
So off we were to Tertulia, for tapas, near the West Village:
And obviously, the first thing I needed after our delayed flight and mild altercation outside of LGA, was a drink. I’m normally not a huge fan of sangria, mainly because I haven’t acquired a taste yet for wine, but their’s was awesome:
Then came food. We started with the surtido de embutidos (selection of three cured meats:
Then the Coles de Bruselas (Crispy Brussels sprouts, pork belly, mojo picon):
Tosta de Mejillones (I forgot to write this one down! But it’s toast topped with mussels, golden raisins, dill and a few other things):
Brandada de Bacalao (Cod brandade with poached eggs and toast):
(Mmm! Runny yolks!)
Bocata Cordero (Smoked lamb breast sandwich, sheep’s milk cheese, pickled cauliflower):
And, two lovely flutes of Rose’ Prosecco courtesy of Ryan, the cute (but gay, sadly) bartender hailing from Chicago:
All-in-all, it wasn’t a disaster that we came straight from the airport. We met some lovely people at the table next to us, had a nice chat and had a great lunch. To New York!
