Meals with Funny Nurse: Crema, Chelsea

On this very special edition of meals with Funny Nurse, we sample the "higher concept Mexican cuisine."  Higher than what? 

House Salad (greens, pico de gallo, tamarind dressing, panela cheese)
Asado de Puerco (slow cooked pork marinated in chile ancho, served in corn tortillas with black beans and chihuachua cheese)
Sides of corn and beans
Pay de Nuez con Rompope (pecan pie with spiced Mexican eggnog and vanilla ice cream)

I incorrectly guessed the dressing to be strawberry; it was very sweet and fruity.  Sometimes the most impressive feat in a restaurant is their ability to do a simple salad well.  No disappointments here.

The tacos' cheese was misspelled on my paper menu "chihuahua."  I imagined a kennel filled with rows and rows of tiny pregnant dogs hooked up to tubes, slowly cranking out delicious taco cheese.  Keep it up!

As Funny Nurse put it, "the fresh corn was raped by the sour cream and left as a shell of its former self.  It needed to take a shower after."  I couldn't agree more with this statement other than to add, "there was corn?"  Now we know why it's called Crema.

Finally, I'm a little upset that we weren't offered a cute Crema-labeled spice jar as a parting gift.  I would have probably displayed it on my desk at work for several months before loosing track of it, only to discover in 2 years that it had become wedged into the crack of my seat, thus being saturated by layers upon layers of fart.  But still, it would have been nice to be offered.

Meals with Funny Nurse: Cafeteria, Chelsea

Why Cafeteria twice in such a short span of time when there are plenty of other breakfast options to try?  Well, we needed somewhere near my office to meet, and to be fair the breakfast menu obviously differs from the dinner menu. 

What was advertised as a frittata came to my table as little more than scrambled eggs with stuff on top.  Though technically a frittata does not need to contain ingredients to qualify as a frittata (it's simply an Italian omelette-like dish, which can be plain eggs, prepared in a pan in the oven and/or broiler, rather than on the stove), I would argue that if Cafeteria labels this one as laden with "asparagus, cherry tomatoes, fresh ricotta, [and] arugula" said components should be cooked into the eggs - not splayed raw on top. 

Further, why go as far as to qualify the ricotta as "fresh" yet not the arugula, which is served raw?  Are there even that many aged ricottas for that matter?  Let's be honest: This is scrambled eggs with a salad on top.  I guess presentation is a matter of style, but I can still complain because it was hard to eat a mound of fresh arugula and eggs.

Meals with Funny Nurse: One Girl Cookie, Cobble Hill

Funny Nurse and I hit up One Girl Cookie this morning for breakfast, and against all odds we accomplished said goal.  By "odds" I'm referring exclusively to rain, which in New York justifies nearly any lazy activity you can think of.  Delivery for lunch?  Sure.  Don't exercise today?  Obviously.  Show up late to work and make lots of hurried, tiresome guffaw sounds throughout the day?  Guaranteed.  I was a little off the mark with the choice of One Girl Cookie for breakfast, not because they don't do breakfast per se.  Rather, their idea of breakfast is - how shall I put this - healthy.  I was anticipating your typical egg sandwiches, made with some artisanal spin no doubt, but with fried eggs and cheese nonetheless.  Instead we both ordered yogurt with granola and stewed pears as well as a baked egg dish, which FN claimed had cream, though I wasn't sure.  One of my yolks was runny (a plus), while the other was not.  We joked that next time we should just order a cake for breakfast.  (I wasn't joking.)  Also, the family tree 4-panel painting in the dining area reminds me of Ilya Kabakov.  Or is it just me?

Meals with Funny Nurse: Clark's, Brooklyn Heights

Waiting for Funny Nurse on this slightly chilly Friday morning outside Clark's in Brooklyn Heights, I was appalled and yet amazed at the frequency of children walking by stuffing their faces with plain, untoasted, whole bagels.  As I'm normally not in the mood to eat at places swarming with straight people and their spawn, I was ready with my repertoire of snide looks and uncomfortable glances.  Yet I have to admit to being a bit impressed by these parents' ingenuity: Shove carbs down your kids throat, and they can't talk.  Two birds.  Had I stumbled onto something new, something distinctly New York?  Or is this solution already obvious to everyone?

Luckily, I didn't have to contemplate the mind-blowing revelation long, as FN showed up only a few minutes later - fresh out of bed.  We were quickly seated at one of the Henry St-adjacent two person tables.  Not long after we begun our usual conversation about bodily functions, my meal arrived: grapefruit, potato hash, broccoli and cheddar egg white omelete, toast, a coffee, and a shot of orange juice.  And I do mean a shot.  It seemed to be a mix of fresh squeezed and Tang.  45 minutes later we'd completed what I hoped to be the first in a long series of breakfasts.