Flava Flave



I imagine that if Flava Flave were reincarnated as a dish, it would be something at Bodega Negra. I was skeptical about ordering another quinoa/kale salad at this point in my life, but NO.

Life was better with every bite, and do you see that grilled corn? It sped up my freaking metabolism (they say really spicy shit does that to you and it was amazing). Got a nice street view, which is essential because you cannot imagine the walks of life that enter the Dream hotel at 2:35 PM on a Saturday afternoon looking like A) walk of shame gone ratchet B) 47 years old and going to prom C) Mission: Free Drinks (I feel you girl; tits galore).

The dessert at this place is another story. But it’s a great option around Meatpacking/Chelsea for a weekend afternoon bite. Portions were large and in charge and…full of flava flave–whatever that means.


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