To be fair, I regularly declare that I have a "favorite new restaurant" -- almost every week, in fact -- but this time, I think I mean it. I finally got Mr. Food Musings in to COCO500, and I've decided that their flatbread with squash blossoms and truffle oil is the single best food in the City right now. That is, until you eat their peanut butter cup, which is a fine dining version of a Butterfinger. As Joy would say, Motherf***er! That was good. (Well, Joy wouldn't use asterisks. Whatever. We can't all be so comfortable wallowing in filth.)
But the food isn't the only reason I'm loving COCO500 these days. I also think they have some of the loveliest service around, which is quite an accomplishment considering that on my first visit I had terrible service and seriously considered not going back. Just like Virginia Slims, I tell ya.
In brief: the table before ours was late leaving, so we sat at the bar enjoying a very pleasant glass of wine (Albarino for Mr. FM, and a Chenin Blanc for moi) along with the COCOmole tacos (tender beef cheeks/mole sauce/tortilla chip/YUM!). As a thank you for waiting a mere 15 minutes for our reservation, we were told on the way to our table that the tacos were on the house. SCORE!
Upon sitting down at our table, I realized -- with horror -- that we were seated next to THE LOUDEST WOMAN IN THE WORLD. Sorry for the all caps, folks, but I don't know how else to make her excruciating volume known to you. Now, I hate loud, but a quick glance to my left and I realized that they were on their dessert wine and coffee course, so I figured I could deal for another 20 minutes.
And then dessert showed up and my hopes faded. Fast. This woman positively shrieked at the waiter who brought her vacherin, and then promptly threw her glass full of water all over the floor -- and all over me. She looked at the waiter, and did a flip little hand move as if to say "Whatever, it's water, clean it up." As I toweled off my sopping wet calf, she looked at me and said, "It's only water."
Not, "I'm so sorry, do you need a napkin?" or "Did you get wet? Oh, I apologize." or even "Oops, I'm such a klutz!" She was more self-absorbed than a 2-year old, tacky as a clear plastic protective slipcover, and LOUD besides, so I gave her what I hope was a withering stare and marched myself up to the kind host to beg him for another table, any table, even if it was on the roof or in the kitchen or in a different restaurant.
We ended up back at the bar, and a few minutes into our lip-smacking dinner he stopped by to say that he was also comping our wine because of the shrew in the corner. (And to let us know that the poor souls who took our places at the table were equally put off.) I mean, that is service, folks.
COCO500, I hope you're listening because I love you, and I'm bringing my sister in when she comes to visit in 3 weeks.