We meet, we drink, we gossip, we drink, we eat (generally a lot), oh, and we giggled. Every week.
This week’s City Girl Supper Club (yes, I just decided it’s officially a “club,” needed a name, AND to be capitalized) went to Las Ramblas, the Spanish Tapas place on West 4th. The tucked away little joint offers an aroma of garlic and smoked sausage upon entering. It’s tiny, so be prepared. All those whom don’t like loud, low lit, bar stool table joints, you probably won’t like Las Ramblas. Sorry.
But for the latter group of people who find the notion of small tables, cozy and low lighting, romantic and flattering, well you’re in luck! Sangria is a must for fans, although I can’t stand the stuff, so I went for a glass (well a couple glasses) or vibrant young red wine from the Spanish countryside. More zing, spice (and less money) than the American cousin.
Our favorite dishes were the chorizo baked in terra-cotta cazuelas with white beans, roasted bite-size meatballs, and a special salad of warm mushrooms and avocado. We all have boy problems, some more than others. We all hate or love our jobs on any given day. And we all usually need a cocktail to take the edge (and the bite) off cold winter nights.
The dinner reminded me of my wonderful time in Barcelona and actually walking the streets and markets of Las Ramblas. The city itself is touristy, and Las Ramblas is the worst. The easiest place to be mugged, the most crowded, colorful, loud, and alive street in Barcelona. I can’t recall where or what I ate. I know, I’m pretty upset about it too. The thing is, I was SO in the moment that I took everything in excess (food, drink, culture, nightlife). I just couldn’t actually remember WHAT or WHERE I ate. That’s why exploring these authentic joints in New York helps refresh my memory!
Two things I remember distinctly about the city were that my best friend Alexa and I were OBSESSED with a goat cheese salad next to our rented apartment. Gag, a salad, I know. But before you start with the skinny girl sarcasm, let me tell you this, the salad held about a log of dough-wrapped fried goat cheese. We ate it about twice a day for a week, and when we weren’t eating it we were looking and tasting all other types of goat cheese to try to find something better. We didn’t, and I don’t think anyone could.
The other thing I distinctly remember is the beautiful market, La Boqueria, probably the most well known of all Barcelona’s markets. The fruits, vegetables, and meats are enough to make any food-lover’s heart stop. Instead of spending hours in museums, Alexa and I spent hours in markets.
La Boqueria in New York is actually an up and coming tapas joint on Spring Street, around the corner from me. Sunday night the chef roasts a whole pig for the diners, he’s also been featured as one of the contestants on Food Networks “The Next Iron Chef.” Maybe that’ll have to be next week’s jaunt, stay tuned …
