On Wednesday night, for our nine-month anniversary, my girlfriend and I biked over to Tabare, a pleasant little Uruguayan restaurant tucked away in South Williamsburg. Before we got there, I was failing pretty hard as a boyfriend. I was late picking her up due to some bike issues, and I forgot the location of the restaurant. But after some iPhoning, we eventually found the joint (the location isn’t difficult, but my map skills are weak) just in time for our 8 p.m.
What awaited us was a dimly lit, tight space with an atmosphere that’s a little too cute for its own good, but no more pretentious than other “hip” restaurants in Williamsburg. We both were a little on edge; her, due to my lateness; me, due to my flat tire. But after settling, both of our sets of eyes found it: the Chivito completo, a.k.a. the sandwich that potentially saved our relationship.
From the menu, it’s what follows: “traditional Uruguayan grass-fed filet mignon sandwich, bacon, mozzarella, black forest ham, fried organic egg, caramelized onions, roasted red peppers, Spanish olives, butter lettuce, vine tomato, aioli, hand-cut fries.” Within about 30 seconds, we decided that it was the route to go.
Once the Chivito completo arrived, we split it in two and gobbled it up, realizing quickly that this massive sandwich would no doubt be enough to fill us both up, twice. The idea of three different meats might seem like a little too much (and, well, c’mon, it is), but the sandwich doesn’t feel overwhelming. Each bite blends perfectly with the mass of veggies, and, oh yeah, the fried egg that tops it all off doesn’t hurt either. Also, the meal comes with an obscene amount of salty, delicious fries that, between two mouths, couldn’t even be finished.
There’s an honest-to-god chance that this sandwich, in all its three-meat glory, cured our irritation with one another and indirectly saved our relationship. For $16, it may be a bit overpriced, but c’mon, who can put a price on love?
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