So because I ended up eating at Rucola & Brucie on the same day, I was unsure of where to eat on Friday. I got lots of suggestions, but none of them felt quite right. That morning I hit upon the idea of Williamsburg’s Diner, a restaurant I had meant to go to a while back but had kind of forgotten about. Diner is located in a re-purposed dining car; the ceiling is so low my head almost scraped it; and they were blasting Neil Young when I walked in. I took a seat at the bar and was given the day’s menu, hand written on a thin roll of paper. I immediately thought that I wasn’t hipster enough for the place, but ordered the pimento cheese omelette (usually served with ham but I got without).
One bite into my omelette and I instantly forgave any faux-hipster vibe. The omelette was beautifully cooked, and the pimento cheese was both salty and spicy. Even the salad was good. I ate the omelette pretty quickly, and (after paying) I went around the corner to the little shop Marlow & Daughters, owned by the same people as Diner. Although they are best known for their butchering, obviously that was out for me. I picked up a baguette and a pint of their homemade pink peppercorn ice cream for consumption later.
Walking back to the G train I came down Metropolitan and at the intersection of Roebling St I realized there was yet another Williamsburg restaurant I’ve been meaning to try, Roebling Tea Room. I had just eaten, but I wasn’t completely full. Did I dare..? I did. Second lunch.
Once again I ordered eggs, but in a completely different style. Here the fried eggs were sitting on a bed of hominy, kale, roasted tomatoes, and kabocha squash. It was a masterful symphony of flavors and textures. The kabocha squash was roasted until soft and sweet with the skin still on for a bit of chew; the tomatoes were sweet and sour; the kale slightly bitter and chewy; the eggs nicely runny and salty (notice the sprinkle of salt on each vibrant yellow yolk); and the hominy soaked everything up as the starch of the dish. I was amazed. Oh, and on my way out I spotted comedian Reggie Watts.
Now before you go thinking that I’m a total pig, I ended up not eating dinner that night. I did, however, dip into the pink peppercorn ice cream, which was great. Floral and only slightly spiced, it really was elevated by the sprinkle of salt in it.
I thought that would be the end of my restaurant week, but I was wrong.