I've gotten into a couple of lively discussions with friends about the small-plates phenomenon: It's a scam, a fussy, bourgeois conspiracy to leave wallets and bellies empty!
I hear ya. I've no interest in leaving an establishment hungry and poor. If you're going to get particular, I have more of a beef with the bare-bones steakhouse-style a la carte trend. ($50 for a steak, and you can't front me some mashed potatoes and creamed spinach? BLOW.)
But as small plates go, I'll say this: I'm not always interested in engorging myself (snake-shaped EF slowly dissolving a cheeseburger-shaped bump). Occasionally, it's nice just to get a couple of savory bites and linger over a bottle of wine with someone you haven't talked to in awhile. When those occasions/cravings arise, I find myself in the neighborhood of El Quinto Pino.
DO NOT go there for dinner, or to celebrate the end of a Master Cleanse. You'll just get pissy. If you have babies, knuckledraggers, claustrophobia, or an aversion to tall stools, steer clear. El Quinto Pino does tapas true to its word--you are here primarily to drink and eat a little something tasty as you do so.
The staff is sweet and wine-savvy, so let them point you toward the perfect glass of Spanish varietal you've never had before. Soft-Spoken Feisty Lady and I were happily sipping and surprised when the Fried Salt Cod (Soldaditos de Pavia, $7.50, pictured above) arrived.
I'm not sure what we were expecting, but the ratio was about 1:3 fluffy-fritter to cod, which moist and flaky, not salty at all. Greaseless and crisp, they were like upscale fish fingers--we'd only wished there'd been a some sherry vinegar to splash on 'em (but then, I'm guessing the idea is that you're supposed to be drinking sherry while eating these).
Also in the piscine parade, some Marinated White Anchovies (Boquerones, $12), also known as God's 'lil toast-toppers:
(Not pictured, plate of crusty bread rounds.) Clean and briny, they had a bracing vinegar kick and a goodly cloak of peppery, rich Spanish olive oil. Top, dab, blot. Repeat.
And then there's the much-loved, previously featured Uni Panini (toasted feather-light ficelle with sea urchin and mustard oil, $15). If I weren't afraid of dying an impoverished, mercury-related death, I'd eat one of these every day.
Drinking perchers can't live on fish alone, so please, get some Spanish-Style Cracklins (Torreznos, $6), which amount to freshly deep-fried thick bacon nuggets. Patience. Hot fat is delicious and hurtful.
Feel like something sweet? Sometimes, they have a simple, pleasingly creamy rice pudding, but my favorite closer at El Quinto Pino is the frozen horchata cocktail.
I think what they do is take sweetened almond milk and run it through a slushy machine, and top the whole with a brandy cap. I've asked the lovely servers to explain it more than once, but somehow freezing one's brain with almondy boozy bliss tends to keep it from retaining vital information.
I wholeheartedly admit that this place would inspire the ire of tapas detractors. Yep. You'd hate it. Don't go. You'll take up room that satisfied grazers don't have to spare.
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El Quinto Pino
401 W. 24th St
(near the NW corner of 24th and 9th Ave)
NYC, NY 10011
Chelsea
P: 212.206.6900
F: 212.206.6955
Hours:
Monday- Thursday: 5 p.m. - 12am
Friday and Saturday: 5 p.m. - 1 a.m.
Sunday 5pm - 11pm
Fried Bacon nuggets?! This sounds like the most gloriously hateful thing you can do to your body, this side of shooting Scotch.
I'm going to have to try these one day...
Posted by: Chocolate Bear is F I R S T | December 06, 2009 at 12:46 PM