We ventured into the city yesterday for brunch, and ate at this tiny little place in the Village called Deborah, where the cheerful lesbian chef held court over her open kitchen and worked absolute magic with the food.
J and I both ate the same thing, which is often a mistake, but we couldn't resist the pretty waitress as she swooned over the duck confit hash. And boy, were we rewarded. Almost smoky, with a hint of either plum or hoisin sauce, soft, garlicky potatoes, and threads of what looked like spinach, topped with two firm eggs that were past their over-easy promise, the hash was incredible.
But the best part was Deborah's homemade banana pudding. I went for the key lime tartlet with nut crust (bliss) but J was the smartie. I managed a tiny dot and would've done just about anyone or anything to have the entire happy glass.