Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Hi Moto

My first meal out this new year, after having spent the past week holed up eating mostly pasta and eggs (which is totally fine), was at Moto in south ass Williamsburg. It just felt right to put on my golden pointy shoes and venture out of my Greenpointy cocoon for my first-time trip to the timeless establishment.

The weather was definitely cold and possibly foreboding, as the forecast called for a chance of sleet. Wandering back and forth beneath the roar of the JMZ; wondering where my date was and what direction to go in, I began to doubt if this outing had been worth my special occasion barrette after all. But soon we found each other and found ourselves underneath the hanging bike on the corner of Broadway and Hooper, suggesting we had arrived (Moto lacks any real signage advertising its modest existence). Finally finding our refuge, it felt as if we had stumbled into a secret; passed through some sort of hidden portal.

The quite cozy space was nearly empty at first as we snuggled into a table by the window (and by the bar and by the kitchen. It's tiny). The JMZ still rumbled overhead, but inside the noise seemed almost comforting, as if the city around us was snoring. While the streets of south Williamsburg aren't the most inviting , looking out the window of Moto they seem old-fashioned instead of discomforting. The decor inside reflects this as well: dimly lit with sepia-toned pictures on exposed brick; classic music playing that you can't quite place.

Soon after we arrived, others seemed to catch on and the place steadily yet unobtrusively filled up. My meal, a prosciutto and brie panini, was utterly delectable, but not quite as mouthwatering as similiar fare of yore. J was somewhat disppointed in his ribs: as a "southern" boy he has high expectations. However, in my opinion, the garlic mashed potatoes served alongside could more than make up for any meaty mistakes. Washed down with their reasonably priced draught beer, the meal was everything we could have hoped for.

After visiting the very neat restroom (downstairs, cool toilet, weird mirror) we knew it was time to face the elements. Back outside, the freezing rain stung our hands and we struggled to hear one another through our hoods and over the train. Yet we were fully sated, having finally re-entered the real world by briefly stepping into another.


Queen of Cuisine said...

You must have had high hopes for this place. Wearing a special occasion barette is really intense.

CaseyMustPie said...

when was the last time you wore your SOB?