Momofuku Ssam Bar
By THE ACTRESS
I have no idea what came over me, but I recently invited my next door neighbor Maria Castelli out for tea. I guess I just felt sorry for her – the lonely, lump of a woman – and I honestly thought she’d decline, as our date would interrupt her steady diet of game shows. Seemed safe, but alas, she accepted. What if a casting director saw the two of us together? What would he think of me? Sheer lunacy. Then again, being with her can only make me look better, I suppose.
Anyway…what a trial! I’d insisted on hiring a taxi, which is really the only sanitary way to get around in this filth pit of a city. But, Maria – surprisingly stingy for such a cheery person – made some remark about “wasting taxpayer money,” and the next thing I know, I’ve been duped into boarding the subway. I’ll spare you the gruesome details of that episode, even as they continue to haunt me.
I had planned on getting tea at the museum, but thanks to our subterranean misadventure, we soon found ourselves surrounded by the unwashed in the East Village. Exhausted, we stopped at the first even remotely reputable-looking place we could find with an empty seat, which lead us to momofuku ssäm bar. We were sat at a long, sleek bar, as the restaurant crackled with lively conversation over plates of whole roasted pig.. Alas, the menu was replete with dishes featuring suckling pig and duck, more fit for an Asian lumberjack than a couple of ladies like ourselves. Or at least a lady like me, as Maria is built like a log cabin.
But yes, she ordered duck soup and a duck bun. “Nothing like eating in the barnyard at 1pm!” I sighed, as Maria just slurped and burped her way through her meal, blithely, without a care in the world. I thought the poor sow was going to bloat and explode and have her blood used to make some sort of stock. I admit I did try some of her duck soup, which looked unappetizing with bits of duck and bright green vegetables bobbing up and down in a brackish, brown liquid, yet I was surprised by its refined and delicate flavors. But, I simply couldn’t try any more…my agent insists I need to watch my figure if I’m going to win the Oscar over Ava Gardner, that whore.
My advice for momofuku ssäm bar: go with a fatty and catch a spoonful of their run-off, or else the Oscar goes to…someone else.
Momofuku Ssam Bar / 207 2nd avenue, new york, ny 10003 corner of 13th street and 2nd avenue