Our Cheeselog

Keep on Rockin’: Installment 6

Our last day was spent back in Manhattan. We had seen so many places, but I still felt like my job was unfinished. We badly needed breakfast, so we walked (in the bitter cold, mind you) to Landmarc in the Time Warner building. Eggs Benedict were delicious. Fresh juices. Yummy coffee. Super-nice service. The perfect recover-from-last-night breakfast.

Then we walked some more.

We ended up at Obika Mozzarella Bar down the street (yes, I realize we had just eaten, but I couldn’t pass this up). The place is in the lobby of a big office building and feels a little oddly placed. They serve a few types of mozzarella. The name means something in a southern-Italian dialect, but if you didn’t know better, you would swear it was Asian. The outfits look Asian. The writng looks Asian. It was a really weird culture clash thing. Anyway, the mozz was tasty, but for a place that’s a self-professed mozzarella bar, I would have like to see more mozzarella.

I love me some French fries. So what better place to grab a snack than Pommes Frites in the East Village? Much like Pickle Guys, Pommes Frites is very appropriately named. You order a size. You order a sauce. That’s it. No whistles and bells (that is, unless you consider like 50 sauce choices to be whistles and bells). Fries were potatoey and delicious – super hot and fresh (they are all cooked to order). The sauces were excellent, particularly the Irish Curry.

Finally, we were at our final destination for some soothing brothy goodness: Momofuku Noodle Bar. It was so cold and we had eaten SO much food over the past couple days that nothing sounded as pleasing as a light soup. HA! I should have remembered that as I kept ordering stuff. It’s never a good idea to look around at other customers too often because if you’re like me, you will continue to order everything that they get. The rice cakes were little chewy/crunchy pillows in spicy sauce. The pickled veggies came in their own jar. The Brussels sprouts were cooked with porky bacon. The soup was steaming and delicious.

No wonder this guy has his own cookbook. I can’t stress to you how absolutely perfect this “last supper” was for us.

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