I’m pretty pissed at Hell’s Kitchen. Yesterday, lured by promises of fried elephant ears and other exotic fare, I waddled my way down Ninth Avenue from 39th Street to 57th, only to discover lies!
HellsKitchen.bz describes the event thusly: “Even at the Ninth Avenue Food Festival, there are the standards – mozzarepas, zeppolis, funnel cakes, and egg creams – but this is one street fair where they are outnumbered by fabulous foods that you actually don’t see at other fairs.”
Actually, the fair was just like any regular shitty street fair, except it went on for a mile. The neighborhood spots, when you could find one among the endless crappy smoothie stands, offered little to get excited about. The best thing I ate was a freaking spinach pie from Poseiden Bakery.
Here’s a dude ripping open a package of octopus frozen into a block of ice, which he then dropped onto a grill to melt and steam into a rubbery, tasteless aberration.
Now you’re thinking “well, this must have been the bright spot of Nina Lalli’s Sunday.” No, in fact, this was the worst part of the entire weekend. This piggy was rotated in vain. He was was dry and bland and utterly sad.
Honestly, I ended up talking about the dogs more than the food. I mean, there was a pink dog. That’s something, at least.