The best coffee

My weekend visit to New York has put me a few days behind here, and worse, the first thing I want to write about isn’t even a complaint! This introduction will have to serve as one, since I can’t find a single thing wrong with the actual subject: a meal I had at a restaurant called “Trattoria di Vino”.

Everyone knows that the best part of visiting your parents is that they buy you delicious meals at places you wouldn’t otherwise be able to afford, or with a frequency you couldn’t otherwise justify.  I ate out all three nights this weekend: the first was at some Japanese place with sushi and what (I did enjoy the sake, surprisingly, since I usually hate sake.  I took a cue from my taste in beer and got the unfiltered one); the third was at a disappointing French place.  The second was at Trattoria di Vino.

I like Italian food, and I don’t mean pizza, which is what Foodler always seems to mean when I periodically disappoint myself hoping to find some to order in.  Of course, it’s rich and filling and full of cheese, and everyone likes that part (except the people who don’t like good food and hate to be full), but if I were to go one step further I would say that it’s the combination of cheese and tomatoes that makes it so particularly good.  I’m not a taste chemist, so I can’t say why, but I’ve improvised a tomato-ricotta sauce with Greta several times and it is entirely different from either of its ingredients.  Sort of like that cinnamon-vanilla chocolate pudding I make.

Okay, the food was good, and the place was nice too.  The real pleasure of the meal, however, was the coffee.  I almost didn’t get it, since I didn’t really want dessert, but again: my mother is paying and she always wants me to enjoy the meal.  I got an espresso, because it’s Italian and because I’m a purist and prefer the strongest, most concentrated version of anything.

It was good.  Really good.  About as good as this coffee (also see the following page).  Alone among all the coffee I’ve had, this had no bad elements at all: no unpleasant bitterness, no disappointing acidity, no burnt overtone.  It had a subtle spiciness to it that I can’t place (probably cinnamon and cardamom, somehow).  It tasted more perfectly like coffee than you’d think was possible.

Anyway, if you happen to be on the upper west side, go there and get a coffee.

This entry was posted in Food, Not complaining, Restaurants. Bookmark the permalink.

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