It is an ancient Chinese tradition to seek out unique and unknown restaurants during the Chinese New Year celebration. So, to kick off this weeklong holiday, Barfly sat down after a two hour wait at the Spotted Pig determined to pretend to enjoy such English delicacies as lamb’s tongue (smooth, like kissing grandma) and poached squid (slimy, like when Grandpa used to touch us).
Barfly would never bore our NY savvy readers with yet another rote review of this storied West Village gastro pub. Blog-form redundancies of Frank Bruni’s “old” media reviews are Restaurant Girl’s job (why haven’t you called, you miserable bitch!).
Instead, we decided to rate said pig using a secret trick of the trade that Franky and good old R.G. certainly employ but never would admit: rampant lies.
There are those of us who seek “integrity” in life and then those of us who would be just as happy with sudden and undeserved lawsuits. So, we start off with our review of The Spotted Pig. If this doesn’t work, blatant plagiarism is next. We’ve been working on a novel – The Wind Did Go. It’s Gone with the Wind told from the point of view of Scarlett’s petticoat.
Review: The Spotted Pig
Dinner Conversation – 4 olives – The tables were warm and cozy. We’re happy to say that Sumner Redstone is our new BFF! By the way Ty, we can’t wait for you to stop by like you promised and decoupage our old shoebox lids. Move that bus!
Using Every Part of the Pig – 4 olives – We never quite knew where the haggis was located, but we’re certainly happy to have found it (thither to the gall bladder). Chinese children apparently are upset by such use of the pig, as it was expected to be their playmate and good fortune harbinger throughout the year. Better convert to capitalism now kids!
Sprigs of untruth that garnished our entrees – 4.5 olives – The secret is not to rely too heavily on lies. Although flavorful, even a pinch too much would reveal that we spent the first hour of the wait swigging pints at a bar down the block, the next half hour scarfing pizza and the final 15 minutes standing outside the windows of the restaurant, faces pressed against the glass, staring in like paupers. We had a wonderful “dining experience” as our breath frosted the panes and we cursed the patrons for taking too long with their stupid espressos and well kempt hair.
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