Eaten, Barely Blogged: Pizza, Pizza, Sushi, Himalayan and Not
Pizzeria Sirenetta This is type of place–pizzas, pastas, snacks, all under $20–just taken for granted in so many neighborhoods. (A little less so in this more-desolate-than-you’d-think pocket of the Upper West Side.) I mean, it’s kind of boring. Also, I would kill for one. There just isn’t anywhere to get skinny linguine creamy with meyer lemon-spiked ricotta and sprinkled with micro-croutons or what I’ve decided is my favorite pizza, the perfect bitter/rich/salty combo of arugula and prosciutto. Instead of the little chocolate pudding freebie offered at the end of the other Mermaid restaurant meals, you will receive a tiny panna cotta with a droplet of balsamic vinegar.
Renee’s Kitchenette No pizza, but of course I can stroll down Roosevelt for a Filipino breakfast, a.k.a. silogs (there’s a restaurant, Tselogs, in Daly City that specializes in them, and yes, I’ve been) so maybe that’s the tradeoff. I take my garlic fried rice with eggs sunnyside up and sweet, caramelized tocino, the sliced pork belly that lends its name to tocilog (bisteksilog, just out of frame, features beef–you get the picture). All that and a coffee for six dollars and some change.
Phayul I used to wonder what kind of uncouth beast would order sushi from a Himalayan restaurant. Now I know. Maybe on a still-hungover Sunday night you want doughy momos, mung bean cubes drenched in chile oil tingly with Sichuan peppercorns and some spicy salmon and eel maki a.k.a the Queens roll. It’s ok, I’ve decided, if you order online and have it delivered so no one can scoff.
Roberta’s at UrbanSpace Vanderbilt Am I a bad person because I don’t really care about food halls? At least they are not food trucks, right? And you can have a drink (if it’s after noon, which it wasn’t when I practically went for breakfast during a two-night staycation at a hotel near Grand Central). The personal pizza (Bee Sting here, all soppresatta and honey) is genius really and perfect for when you can’t tote around leftovers.
Tanoshi I went back again because Christmas was so fun I thought it might be a nice way to woo, maybe convert, a West Coast visitor who regularly eats conveyor belt sushi in Portland. It was still stellar but the right side (the restaurant is divided across two storefronts with separate entrances, which somehow I didn’t know) is more magical. The squid ring sushi was an a la carte extra post-omakase.