Does the perfect margarita exist and more reader questions
One of the best parts of reading your hyperspecific New York City restaurant requests is trying to figure out the motivation behind the prompt. Sometimes it's a part of the question (this month, a reader’s boyfriend fiends for a Moroccan dish after a trip there), and, other times, I have to infer. Looking for a locals-only Italian restaurant? Must’ve seen the trailer for the Halle Bailey rom-com in Tuscany. Someone urgently seeking a terrific margarita? That’s what happens after three days of false spring. As always, I had a great time deep-diving on those three prompts (especially that last one) to find your Goldilocks restaurants. Please keep the questions coming, with all of the context — or none at all — and I’ll do my best to answer. Send them to me over email at wheretoeat@nytimes.com or as a submission through this form.
In search of the perfect margaritaCan you suggest a bar or restaurant where I can get a good margarita that actually contains tequila? Not one of those fancy fruity concoctions. — Francene R. You know the kind of calculus you do when you walk into a bar, scan the décor, the bottles behind the bar, the glassware, and you decide whether or not it’s a place you trust to make a martini, or if you should just get a beer? Well, I don’t do that with margaritas. I’m known to order a margarita at restaurants and bars that are distinctly Not a Margarita Place, and I’m often happily surprised: a perfect version, for example, can be found at the Shaker restaurant The Commerce Inn (West Village), and another at the wine-centric Rhodora (Fort Greene). That being said, Santa Fe BK couldn’t possibly be more of a Margarita Place. It’s like Airdropping yourself to New Mexico from Williamsburg — you feel it immediately upon seeing the worn turquoise front door surrounded by dried chile ristras. The “good margaritas” (a niche reference to a Yacht Rock Revue song) are made to order: a full half lime, a quarter of a lemon, just barely a teaspoon of granulated sugar, and less than a quarter ounce of triple sec all muddled into a slurry, which expresses all of the acid and oil from the citrus, loaded with Puebla Viejo tequila blanco and shaken aggressively until it's a cloudy, tart, frosty fantasy. 178 North Eighth Street (Bedford Avenue), Williamsburg
Chicken tagine dreamsMy boyfriend can’t stop talking about the chicken tagine he had in Marrakech with olives and fries, and now I’m determined to find one in New York City that actually compares for his birthday. We’ve tried Bar Six and Cafe Mogador but didn’t love either, and we’re struggling to find other Moroccan spots. Please help! — Megan S. Because I haven’t been to Marrakech yet, I’d love to know what you two think of the chicken tagine at Dar Lbahja in Astoria. It arrives bubbling in a clay pot, the bone-in leg meat shrouded in a thick layer of nearly-liquified caramelized onions, big slices of punchy preserved lemon and whole green olives. I hope the whole experience lives up to his memories: Patterned pillows on the booths, tin teapots with steeped mint on every table, electric-yellow turmeric stains on the napkin every time you wipe your mouth. 47-12 30th Avenue (48th Street), Astoria
Get wined, dined and nicknamed like a localI would like a small, out of the way bistro recommendation in the Village (East or West) — something only the locals know about (we are travelers), Italian preferred (since New York City seems to be the best option this side of the “pond.”) — Gwen D. One of the more charming restaurant experiences I’ve had lately was dinner at Il Posto Accanto — it’s tiny (check), out of the way for some tourists (Alphabet City, between Avenue A and Avenue B), and everyone there on a Friday night has the familiarity of a regular. That’s the effect of the co-owner, Beatrice Tosti di Valminuta, who acts as a makeshift nonna to everyone in her path: You can get a sense of that energy from her delightful Instagram videos. Getting involved in the Il Posto cinematic universe will make you feel like a local, too. Here’s a brief primer: Beatrice runs the restaurant, which she calls “Zee Spot,” with her husband, who she refers to as “Babycakes,” and calls diners and viewers on Instagram “Petunias.” Here’s her explaining a mushroom special, for example: “OK Petunias, Babycakes is doing a big scene because he said that we served this dish last week and I am boring … deal with it, Babycakes!” This would all be charming enough for me to recommend the restaurant, even if the Roman food wasn’t as fantastic as it is. The all-caps, stream-of-consciousness menu changes on a dime, but the ricotta cavatelli with crispy sausage, mushrooms and peas in a thick cream sauce stays put for a reason, as does the thick scialatielli, bouncy as udon, in a simple tomato sauce, with the most tender meatballs I’ve found in town. 190 East Second Street (Avenue B), Alphabet City One More ThingIf you’re the kind of person who prefers to absorb information through their headphones, check out this week’s episode of the This Is Taste podcast. Julia Moskin discusses how she put together her deeply reported story about abuse at Noma and what this could mean for the future of fine dining. Listen to the episode on Spotify, Apple or wherever you get your podcasts. Read past editions of the newsletter here. If you’re enjoying what you’re reading, please consider recommending it to others. They can sign up here. Have New York City restaurant questions? Send us a note here. Follow NYT Food on TikTok and NYT Cooking on Instagram, Facebook, YouTube and Pinterest.
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