I’m a sucker for tapas like everyone else, but even more so since I visited Barcelona. Since then, all tapas places have become an inevitable comparison to my love, Bar Rodrigo.
I was at Pipa to celebrate a happy occasion, and like a dictator I monopolized the menu and planned out our dishes ahead of time. I had been studying the menu for few days. Next to Tertulia, my favorite tapas place in NY (but impossible to get into after six), Pipa is a close second. Their sangria rocks too, a little too much actually. It’s like a small docile horse that gives you the smoothest ride but catapults you several feet into a thornbush right before you reach your destination. Continue reading