Tapa Temptation.

Little-known fact: There are few things not cured by sparkling wine.


A dreary, rainy Tuesday night? Champagne and fried goodies to the rescue.

I’m working in far-west Chelsea this month, way too close to my very favorite tapas spots in the city. I’ve been taking the circuitous route from office to subway to remove myself from temptation’s way, but I finally broke down this week and stopped for the Spanish goodies twice. Twice! It’s only Wednesday!

My friends, the floodgates have opened.


Seriously, though. Can you think of anything better suited to inclement weather than deep-fried morsels of salty bacalao and creamy bechamel ($5), washed down with a glass of bubbly? Four tiny bites, and suddenly things seem so much brighter.


Apparently, croquettes are my gateway drug; I intended to have one drink and one small plate, but quickly decided that a second round of both was in order. I stuck with the Champagne, and switched it up with morcilla ($8), billed on the menu as crispy blood-sausage–filled bundles. I wasn’t expecting four of them, but you wouldn’t have heard me complain about the portion size.


Beautifully spiced, with a hint of sweetness (cloves, maybe, or cinnamon?) and very little grease, these little guys disappeared at a less-than-decorous rate.


I paired my snacks and beverages with an addictive book and allowed myself to decompress before heading home. A lovely hour, whiled away.

240 Ninth Ave.
(between 24th & 25th Streets)
New York, NY

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