There's an excellent exhibit of graffiti artist-turned-mainstream-painter, Jean Michel Basquiat, in downtown Manhattan. The artist died at 28 of an overdose; his works are sobering. It would have been a hard transition from this intense show to our ultimate destination, the Little Spain eatery, (thought-provoking art makes us hungry), but the High Line was nearby. Little Spain has a magnificent selection of Spanish food. The diner prides itself on being purely Spanish but the Latin-American waiter did not know what a "pincho" was and they played Mexican music. Small complaints. We enjoyed every morsel, raised our "thimbles" and toasted Basquiat!
See the amazing things going on in NYC's East Village in these times of global anguish and solidarity.
I hatched a plan after my doctor described my latest blood test as "boring." I never wanted anything about me to be described as boring. So I drove from the middle of Long Island, epicenter of bland restaurants, to southern Brooklyn to pick up the Guidepost Galloping Gourmets. They can root out Spanish food better than a savy pig can find a truffle.