OK I'm just going to come out with it. Humpday girl here on a day that is most definitely NOT Wednesday. But in the immortal words of Stephen Colbert/Chuck Noblet, "It doesn't matter when you get here, just what time".
Since nothing says congratulations for busting out of your mother's uterus better than a candlelit dinner underneath the JMZ, my boyfriend and I headed to Moto last Friday to celebrate the start of his birthday weekend. We arrived in the middle of a bluesy jazz trio's nightly performance and were seated just next to the door. And when I say just next I mean outside. When I wasn't staring at subway riders on the platform above me, I was fixated on a tween boy who kept trying to inch away from the violin player hovering above him. I think we can all agree that nothing's worse than a 40 year-old man shaking violin sweat above you as you try to eat your salmon. I felt for the little dude!
I ordered the rotisserie pork ribs and while they were definitely interesting something about them just didn't make sense. I kept expecting chicken with every bite and after awhile I think my taste-buds just sort of gave up. The salmon special was a big hit at our table as was the chilled chocolate pudding. But more than anything, the spirit of Moto is what made the meal. With its sky-high ceilings, skillfully hung lighting and antique mirrors, it's easy to forget that you're resting in the shadow of the JMZ line. A former motorcycle shop, Moto lacks the sort of pretension Williamsburg is known for. All in all, a diamond in the rough.
Preach!
*Photo courtesy of www.cafe-moto.com
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