Sure, I'll admit it. The last thing this blog needs is another review of You Say Tomato. Before you commence the eye rolling, though, know this: I did not intend to go to YST again last weekend. It just happened.
We'd meant to go to the new Succotash that opened in a similar corner spot, just a few blocks north of You Say Tomato. When we arrived, however, we were shocked to find that the place was absolutely packed, and there was a wait of 30 minutes that looked to be actually longer than what they were telling us.
The temptation was too great. We bolted. Two blocks south- to YST.
I have to admit, I was happy to find that it, too, was very crowded. We had nowhere to sit once our orders were placed, but were lucky to have a table open up after only a few minutes of awkwardly standing in the middle of the restaurant, slurping coffee and attempting to convey an appearance of collective self-assurance.
Front to back, the entire experience was indicative of our usual euphoric brunch at YST. My knish was nothing to get worked up about, but that's not because it wasn't prepared well; I just think that a fist-sized pastry filled with mashed potatoes is a little redundant in the squishy, bready and starchy areas of my palette.
Oven Eggs at Room 39). It's like they took the best elements of my favorite breakfast dishes and put them all together, creating the uber brunch food. The most delicious, rich and flaky crust came topped with a delectable melange of savory roasted mushrooms, creamy goat cheese and herbs. It was deliciously indulgetnt, earthy... decadent. Blissful.
The jealousy in my soul came radiating through my eyeballs in such a tangible way, our company and Elizabeth cautiously withdrew their extremities from the table, creating a path through which my arm and fork shot as one omnivorous weapon, dexterously swiping large hunks of the galette and retracting them to my awaiting jaws with invisible rapidity. Despite being full from my fluff ball knish, I terrorized what remained of the galette when Elizabeth gave me the green light to "try" it.
One week later, I can feel the clock ticking. There's a time bomb in my psyche, pleading for our return. I"ll forego the knish this time and have the galette. I'll probably even try slipping the cashier a tip and see if I can get an extra large slice. Because, all kidding aside, this may be the best pre-lunch item anywhere in this great city.
Rating - still a solid three napkins