La Esquina @ NYC ****

Spare Ribs

Since the time that I took an undergraduate seminar on human endocrinology and was required to read Jeffrey Eugenides’ Middlesex, I’ve been extremely grateful not to have any reason to be confused about my own gender. Indeed, although privileged with a Western education steeped in the idealistic imagining of a meritocracy, I cannot deny a deep internalization of not only gender but also of my gender role. Something overheard from a Chinawhite bouncer which I have taken to heart is that it is important to “be a lady.” I speak softly. I do not like to smoke or to drink. Tomboyish childhood streak in abeyance, femininity is not something I usually feel much conflict over.

Every so often however, and especially so in the case of my dining experience at La Esquina, I find myself in situations where I earnestly wish that I had been born a man. Strange you say? If I were male, asking a dining companion to meet me on an unassuming street corner in Soho would be nonchalantly cool. Escorting her into what by all appearances appears to be a gaudy Mexican diner with, “I really hate all those chi-chi, overpriced places in the Village. I hope you don’t mind something a little more low-key?” would be a test. Seeing the surprise on her face after being led through the door marked “EXIT,” down the narrow staircase, and past the prep kitchen into the soft glow of a subterranean speakeasy; pleasure pure and simple. Although absolutely outstanding, food here is an afterthought compared to ambiance.

I read somewhere that Hollywood promotes unrealistic expectations of relationships. Maybe I’m just a hopeless romantic, but I humbly disagree. Romance is by definition a suspension of reality anchored in an attitude of adventurousness. To pierce the enigmatic crust of a chorizo empanada  is to take a risk that is richly rewarded. To seize between thumbs and forefingers and consume with barely restrained nibbles a succelent, sugar-cured baby back rib is to make oneself a sticky, vulnerable hedonist. To edge closer along the plush dark leather banquette and surrender the last bite of crushed almond ice cream is to love. To my male friends: may you each find a girl who inspires you to be the thoughtful, spontaneous and just plain smooth guy you admire in his various on-screen incarnations. Ladies, be patient. The perfect actor to cast in the movie in your head may be right around the corner or just up that flight of stairs.

Details: 106 Kenmare St New York, NY 10012 (+1-646-613-7100)