After a surprising and startling morning of discovering my car lock had been carefully extracted with the same care as a dentist removing a molar, there was only one thing to do. Go to brunch. So instead of letting this discovery ruin my mood, I followed the gentle rays of spring sunlight gracing the Williamsburg streets and made my way to Tabare. Maybe it was the name that attracted me. As I later learned from reading the website, Tabare “is a indigenous name from Tupi origin that translates literally into 'someone who lives far from town.’ It is also the Uruguay’s national poem of the conquest, a native legend from national writer Juan Zorrilla de San Martin, describing the tragic love between a young Charrua Tabare and the white sister of the Spanish conquistador Don Gonzalo. It’s an epic-lyrical poem extolling the Indian Carrua representing their entire race, persecuted in their homeland, now Uruguay on arrival of the Spanish.”
If you also find yourself in need of a pick me up on a weekend in Williamsburg, I can suggest no better place to venture to. As soon as I opened the door, different accents swirled in the air, and eclectic bottles and kitsch graced the rustically constructed walls. Our French waiter rapidly produced two of the most most delicious bloody marys that I have ever tasted. And with that, all was forgotten as I because ensconced in the intoxicating vibe that is Tabare. We started with an order of Empanadas Caseras. They were flaky and delicate on the outside, filled with diced beef (a staple in Uruguay) and peas, served with a small dish of hot pepper sauce. There were 3 other types to sample, but we were so impressed with these, that we had to order an other round of the same!
Then our meals. One order of Huevos de campo organico (shown above) arrived in a saucepan and with a warm biscuit atop a well worn cutting board. The eggs were accompanied with shitake mushrooms and cheese and was a warming breakfast that soothed the soul. My meal consisted of sliced leeks, bacon bits and supremely fluffy eggs topped with mini pomme fritte.
As we dined, we started talking to a newcomer in the little corner of the restaurant where we were nestled, who had arrived to Deejay. It was a meeting of the minds as we all conferred on the ongoing situation taking place in Venezuela. Ever surprising to me is how many people in the US are unaware of the struggle that began with the students and has now taken over the country. If you have yet to learn about this conflict, a good place to begin your reading is here: http://venezuelanalysis.com and check out this video: http://www.amazingoasis.org/2014/02/sheer-scale-of-venezuelan-protests.html. And this little conversation, along with the food and atmosphere is how I could easily become a loyal patron of Tabare. If only I lived in Williamsburg. Sigh...
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