As unfathomable as it may sound, we have managed, through the years, to get other people to be our friends.
We're not saying that we're completely unlikable people on our own, as we have each managed to procure quite enough friends to sustain us through life. However, we tend to take pity on our mutual friends, as they are forced to put up with our inane conversations and nonsensical quests to have the Food Network dictate everything we eat.
One such mutual college friend (we all met in the marching band, so you can imagine the glowing level of hipness among us) came for a New York visit. Naturally, we forced her into the action of our Best Thing I Ever Ate adventures with a trip to 'Ino Cafe to eat Scott Conant's favorite EGGSTRAORDINARY dish, the truffled egg toast.
|Me Smell Truffle|
Having both decided to try to walk off an eighth of the massive amounts of fried chicken and boxed wine we had consumed the day before, we arrive, panting, just after 9:00am. The reason we are meeting so early in the first place is not just for scheduling convenience, but also because 'Ino Cafe is absurdly tiny, and Vodka is convinced that we will have to wait for a table if we arrive much after opening (and Vodka hates to wait almost as much as she hates to wait in the sun). But when we stumble into 'Ino Cafe ten minutes after opening, metaphorical crickets can be heard: the place is empty. In fact, it remains empty for 90% of our dining experience. Clearly, Ginger isn't the only one in Manhattan who hates to eat early.
|But the Early Bird Catches the... Egg?|
In fact, breakfast is a rather convenient meal when your life philosophy is "It's Not Even Noon Somewhere." Therefore, Vodka has no issue downing a bellini at 9:30am, and our guest joins her in mimosa consumption.
|Poor Showing, Ginger|
Onto the food, Vodka orders the chosen truffled egg toast, which arrives reeking of truffle oil (the one foodie smell we have now mastered). A runny egg is perched on top of a thick slab of toast, all coated by a warm layer of chewy melted cheese and, of course, the truffle oil. Miniature sprigs of asparagus also dot the plate, but they seem more an afterthought than part of the dish itself. Stabbing into the egg, the yolk runs out across the cheese and toast (this runny yolk phenomenon is the reason Ginger refused to order the dish herself, as she apparently hates to see runny eggs in the morning).
|Egg Running a Marathon|
|Cheese + Bread = Our Idea of a Good Time|
|Oh, and Some Lonely Looking Olives|
|Fetch Us a Spot of Tea|
'Ino Cafe's Truffled Egg Toast: 4 stars