I you're going to NYC... (yes, come on, try to sing it) you have to get some pizza (no, the flowers are for San Francisco). And you don't get them in Little Italy or in any of those famous tourist pizza sheds . Come on ladies and gentlemen, I am a hipster, I go where New Yorkers eat their pizza (read: irony, irony)! My beau only cared about the fact that he wanted to eat a really really good pizza. Yes, point taken, you are right, that is what a restaurant stands for: quality food!
Nicolette Mason, one of my favorite bloggers on the planet, dropped the name of Rubirosa. Oh boy, was she right. Never in my life I had such a juicy and perfect flavored pizza. The place was completely packed and I had the feeling that I was having dinner in my grandmother's old country house. Everywhere we dine we seem to get little tables in little corners. But those tables come in handy when you want to screen the in-crowd! Oh and as the cherry on the cake we had the meatballs topping, what would italian food be like without meatballs.
note: I committed a crime against blogging photography: I took some pictures with my flashlight! The reason? I forgot my external flash. So screw blogging rules and take pictures however you want to.