I’VE BEEN AWAITING CORRADO

Corrado Bread & Pastry
35 Christopher St.
New York, NY
(212) 2423535

Recently I’ve been spending quite a bit of time in Greenwich Village New York and just steps from the accupressurist that I stagger into after my transcontinental flights, I have had my eye on a little café with a sign that was very pleasing “Corrado Bread & Pastry Coming Soon”. I have no sweet tooth so the pastry part wasn’t doing it for me, I have no idea what the allure was, but it was strong. So since last spring, I’ve been pressing my face to the window looking in at the old fashioned white and black tile and dreaming. Maybe it was the name Corrado. It always evokes lines from Prizzi’s Honor and the name Don Corrado. That could be why I was so intrigued.

Well, they’re open! As usual, last week I was eating my way around Greenwich & other village areas, and hollered to Hudon “OMG! Corrados! After acupressure, I’m so THERE!” Hudson who is only learning to understand my epicurean freak outs nodded and opened the door for our massage treatment.

After having every knot and kink removed from my musculature, I sipped some water while putting my shoes on, and dragged Hudson to Corrados. The nice guys behind the counter seemed bemused at my excitement and effusive welcoming them to the neighborhood. Hudson warned me not to ruin my appetite as we had dinner plans soon, so I eyed the open-faced paninis and sandwiches and quichey pies (yes, I just made up that name for something that looks like a pie and a quiche) and salads. YAY! They looked delicious!

I took the advice and ordered only a Spartan amount of food, a very long bruscetta looking slice of French bread that had been roasted with tomato and parmesan cheese as well as a variety of the same thing with basil and a tangy cheese I couldn’t identify plus a sandwich of Brie with tomatoes and truffle butter on a segment of baguette. To wash this down I selected a lovely bottled lemonade.

Ha! I only got about a bite of each of the bruscetta breads and as I munched and savored the balance of crunchy bread that wasn’t too much of a labor to chew and the tomato and cheese and golden broiled yummyness in general, Hudson gobbled up both of the servings. Hmmm. A good sign since Hudson typically only does the power-munching with something like an éclair. I stealthily slid the still-wrapped sandwich into my purse so it didn’t disappear likewise. Corrados brought the energy back to our kneaded bodies and we left as I was enthusiastically still thanking them for finally opening and Hudson pulled me out onto the curb.

Later that night, while working at the apartment, Hudson was feeling peckish and I offered up my secreted sandwich. All gooey and the Brie was doing that sacred ooze from being at room temperature melding with the perfect bread containing it. Moments later I stepped back into the room to get a bite but it was gone. Poof! I've got to keep my eye on Hudson. I've killed for less than that.

The next morning I dragged us back to Corrado’s to keep the silent date I’d made with a Norwegian Smoked Salmon and cream cheese sandwich that I wanted more than life itself… but as they prepared my iced café latte, I broke up with my Norwegian sandwich and cheated shamelessly with a spinach and feta pie. It arrived all warm and flakey and I loved every last mouthful. I didn’t share.

Now, I must beg the staff of Corrado’s to clean the steamer wand on their espresso machine because Hudson got grossed out by the fact that it was caked with old milk and I don’t think will be accompanying me back, despite the awesome food. So get scraping guys!

Ivy

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