I learned many life lessons while eating at Sai Yung Kee in Hong Kong.
Are you into scrambled eggs with parmesan and prosciutto? Who’s not!
Or maybe Belgium waffles topped with berries is more your thing? Waffles with fried eggs and bacon is mine!
Maybe you’re one of those people (my sister) who prefers to have a warm, freshly baked croissant served with cream, jam and butter before all meals?
Well, you can have all of the above and more at Buvette, which is why I’m going straight there when I land at JFK in exactly 21 days.
Buvette is the place I’ve been raving about since I was there last. The place that is so simple and oh so goddam special at the same time. The place with the dreamiest courtyard, delicious coffee and friendly staff. The place that offers small plates because you don’t need much of their food to feel completely satisfied. It’s a place that oozes romance; like you can dream up anything in the entire world and accomplish it.
It makes your feel like you could maybe, one day, write a novel as seductive as Sweetbitter.
And don’t even get me started on their branding. The box of matches I took during my last visit now have a permanent spot on my desk. It is not to be touched or used by anyone. EVER.
I will be back soon, Buvette, and this time I’m coming for your dinner and your wine.
New York City’s Sadelle’s is not your regular bagel joint. It is a well oiled machine operated by the folks at Major Food Group (guys behind Carbone, Santina, and a number of NYC favorites).
I repeat: this is not a place you just walk into because you’re hungover and need to fill your belly with dough. It is a place that requires the extra effort of checking your bank account ahead of time and making a reservation (as my sister did, that smart cookie!) or, alternatively, it is a place that offers a 30+ minute wait.
Pop Culture has taught me that people undergoing a quarter life crisis do things like: 1) quit their job to travel the world alone, 2) buy an outrages car that they cannot afford, 3) get a boob job.
Maybe it’s because I’m turning 28 this, not 25 but my (super-late) quarter life crisis was different. I wore pigtails to a cafe and ordered cake for breakfast. Both of those things done separately would have been fine, obviously, but experiencing both of them together was terrifying.
The waitress came over holding my red and white ricotta hotcakes I swear she looked at my hair and feel into a stupor. Confusion set in. She might have been expecting a 12 year old.
The thing is, I’ve been to The Old Milk Bar before. I ordered matcha hotcakes, which quickly became my Favortie Pancakes of all Time. They looked normal. Sure, they were green, but they were just two fluffy pillows stacked on top of each other. This weekend we went back for them but they had vanished from the menu. The hotcakes that replaced them were different. They were red, yes, but they weren’t just two red fluffy pillows stacked on top of each other, they were topped with white chocolate strawberry sauce and stabbed by a stick of marshmallows.
It was a like a surprise party! I should have packed candles in my backpack. The hotcakes were so good all I could do was take my pigtails out and devour them.
I don’t regret a thing and will be back with a vengeance. Maybe the next hotcakes will be pink and I can dye my hair to match them. That’s definitely something a 13 year old would do!
The Old Milk Bar
144 Dundas St, Thornbury VIC 3071
(03) 9043 6227