[The Meatball Shop, Brooklyn]
My last year of college and my first year out of it, I was a vegetarian. I am not sure what sparked this bout of utter confusion. I am not an animal-lover (creatures with fur and/or fangs that are not a-dogs or b-pandas really frighten me), I comfortably and very gladly wear leather and fur, and I was raised by two Russian immigrants who heartily believe that thick slabs of juicy meat should be a part of a childs’ breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I was a happy and healthy meat lover until my junior year, when I studied abroad in Copenhagen, land of tall and home of the emaciated blonde. If you have never been to Copenhagen, I suggest you do two things: go, but before that, Google-image “attractive thin people in Denmark.” This Google search is a bit redundant, because, as I found in my four months living there, everyone is attractive and thin in Denmark. I chalked this up to two things–Danes bike everywhere, and they don’t eat meat.
Thus, upon my return from Copenhagen, since I clearly was not going to bike around campus, I stopped eating meat. It was pretty easy, and I felt moderately healthy, but more so super trendy because I could tell people I was a vegetarian. Several months ago, due mostly in part to my inability to prepare meals for myself but aided by my three best friends in Washington, who insisted on taunting me with juicy slivers of pork, dripping barbecued loins, and bacon that crisped in a way Tofurkey could never imitate, I decided I would try a chicken wing, which promptly changed my dining habits from “vegetarian” to “girl who eats entire steak alone in bed.”
I have had some delicious meat over the past few months, but The Meatball Shop in Williamsburg (they have a Lower East Side space as well) has been one of my most fabulous instances of consuming animals. Three of my close girlfriends and I ventured out to the Brooklyn Flea last weekend, and after purchasing vintage scarves and friendship rings (more on those later), we treated ourselves to a lunch of meatballs, beer, and ice cream sandwiches at this adorable outpost. The Meatball Shop’s menu is pretty simple–they serve meatballs. Naked, on sliders, on heros, smashed, in a salad, or with sides, diners select their balls (classic beef, spicy pork, veggie, chicken, or special), add a sauce and a carb, and feast. We chose the a variety of balls with freshly milled polenta, parmesan cream, and classic tomato sauce, finishing off the meal with an ice cream sandwich and a stomachache. I’d go back in a second.
[Menu: Diners check off choices with a dry erase marker]
[Chicken meatballs with classic tomato sauce]
[Dessert: Chocolate chip cookies/brownies with mint, coffee, and classic vanilla ice cream]
What’s your favorite carnivorous watering hole in New York?