Life's a Smorgasburg

Monday, April 23, 2012

In between the moving and nesting madness, there was Smörgasburg.

One gorgeous, sunny Saturday in Brooklyn, the (past, present & future) ladies of Apartment 17H invaded this food market in the 'burg with empty bellies and raging appetites. There were a number of casualties. First and most notably, an unsuspecting roll tucked with juicy slabs of porchetta riddled with crisp cracklings. Last seen being handed over by Porchetta's food stand man and never heard from again upon entering our tummies.

We joined the Brooklyn Oyster Party with tabasco guns and lemon slivers blazing, oh yes we did. Slurp, slurp, pass.

We got down with the pizza of my dreams from Pizza Moto. The love child of two of my favorite things, carbonara and pizza, I wanted to adopt this pie, buy it prom dresses, and put it through college.

This spanakopita was the classier cousin of the Costco-bred snacks that I've devoured in far too many a party. Fresh, flaky, and filled with cheesy spinach goodness.

This being Billyburg, there were some stylish plates, too. You fancy huh?

Even the humble s'more was fancified. There will be no s'mores cooked over a campfire, no sir. Not on S'more Bakery's watch. Each little mallow must be handmade, given some hot loving with a blowtorch à la minute, and then sandwiched between cinnamon sugar and clover honey flavored graham crackers.

Please note: cool cookies must sport handlebar 'staches. Obvi.

I learned some very important lessons that day at Smörgasburg:
  • A marathon eating event like this is best tackled with a dream team of foodies. Sharing is caring, and dividing (snacks) means conquering (more booths)!
  • It is totally worth stumbling out of bed at the crack of dawn (which is approximately 9:30am on a Saturday in New York) to hit  Smörgasburg before the hungry masses descend. Time saved lining up is time used inhaling more grub.
  • One can bypass the sanity-threatening subway commute from downtown Brooklyn to Williamsburg by taking the ferry that leaves from Dumbo (this was a particularly painful lesson to learn, indeed).
  • I am truly blessed to have found not just normal human beings as roommates but true friends and foodie soulmates in the crazy jungle of New York. A piece of my heart will always remain in Apartment 17H.

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