Spain, you bastard.
Every time we think we’re done with small plates of things, you go and do something like this.
Get ready to go all conquistador on Huertas, a comely northern Spanish spot for tiny deliciousness and epic legs of ham, opening tonight in the East Village.
Among the brain trust running things here are guys with Maialino, Blue Smoke and Sirio backgrounds. (Not bad, not bad at all.) Here, you’re coming to sample Basque Country specialties. Which includes a regional form of tapas that’s most definitely not called tapas, but pintxos. That covers your seared octopus on sticks, your anchovies, your boards of cured Spanish meats. (Yes, that’s what that massive leg of ham is for.)
You’ll bring a first date, and post up at the copper bar in front with some weather-appropriate glasses of housemade, on-tap vermouth. (Show them some of that legendary Basque charm we just made up right now in this sentence.)
For veterans (three dates or more), venture beyond the series of C-shaped arches. It’s a more rustic two-top situation. There, the only option is a four-course dinner that’ll change every day—think Spanish versions of chorizo carbonara and a healthy reliance on pork shoulder.
Healthy being a relative term.
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