Down on Eighth Street in the Village, Otto, one of our favorite Italian restaurants, was the destination for my birthday celebration last week. Bobby and I started with dishes of marinated figs and roasted peppers, then moved on to the addictive thin-crust pizza. I have daydreams about the pane frattau: tomato with pecorino and a fried egg on top. It sounds kind of gross, I know, but it is divine; a simple, savory pie that keeps me coming back (although I have tried making it at home. It turned out OK.). The well-edited wine list produced a 2006 Oddero Barbera d'Alba (Piedmont), a bright, slightly spicy quartino ($12). And while I was indulging, there was gelato: I had a trio of salty caramel, dark chocolate and peppermint chocolate chip. ... And I'm still enjoying it, just thinking about it.
The next night, Laura, Tammy, Scott and I were due for a pilgrimage to the last outpost of Miracle Grill in Brooklyn. We kicked off the evening at Laura's place with Nicolas Feuillate Rosé Champagne, a perky, deep-pink bubbly that went down easy. A quick cab ride to Brooklyn, to our destination in Park Slope ... but I was only about two tortilla chips in when, unfortunately, the evening had to be cut short since I seem to have had a case of food poisoning from my late lunch (I think it was the broccoli). Well! A quick return trip to Manhattan, and an early night to bed for me. I think we will pick up the celebration where we left off ... soon, I hope.
Happy belated birthday! Michael and I have walked past that Otto place three-dozen times and always wondered if we should try it. It sounds like the answer is a big fat YES!
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