I had been sick the whole week. Waking up the morning my parents were due to arrive in town for a long-anticipated visit, I felt even worse (an interminable day spent in a tiny courtroom in Brooklyn really didn't help either). Cursing my luck, I wondered how could this happen to me-- not on a normal day-- but on the night we were going to dine at Aldea, a restaurant I'd wanted to try for almost a year and a half. No matter what I tried, my worthless, disease-ridden body wouldn't even cooperate.
But I'm stronger than that (and completely prepared to sacrifice my health for a good meal). I would eat at Aldea even if it killed me (or more likely just added another day of sickness to my week). While coffee, Sudafed and Tylenol provided temporary relief from a throbbing throat and stuffed nose, the whole night my senses were dulled. However, if I was going to put my health in jeopardy for a meal, George Mendes would also need to bring his game.
Braced for the evening ahead, my parents and I arrived in Flatiron (Urbanspoon says Chelsea, but I'm calling it Flatiron) for our meal. Inside was a narrow room with a bar stretching back towards Mendes prevailing over the open kitchen (with plenty of tables surrounding him upstairs and downstairs). He was just in view from our table at the very end of the banquette at the foot of the steps (request actual kitchen seating as opposed to our ghetto view).
We ordered a bottle of red wine from Portugal (whose name I can't remember) and started browsing the menu. Like nearly every other restaurant to open in NYC in the past two years, Aldea has a snacks section. Here they're called "petiscos." I'm really not complaining, since who doesn't love snacks?
Marinated Iberian olives and roasted Marcona almonds are the ideal way to start a meal. An orange rind nestled among the olives added a pleasant citrusy zing, while my parents and I when to town on the well-seasoned almonds (I stuck my hand in the bowl to scare away my germaphobe mother and get more for myself, because I'm a dick like that).
Sea urchin was a no-brainer. Rusted orange lobes rested in a cauliflower puree atop a thin cracker. The creaminess of the urchin and puree gave way to the spicy bite of mustard seeds and the cooling sea lettuce.
Our final snack pre-appetizer to arrive was the Fermin lomo de Bellota (you know, that expensive Iberican ham finished on acorns you've been hearing so much about). The funky ham was complemented by the accompanying baguette covered in a tomato jam, but tasted even better wrapped around a few of the almonds.
