West Village-ing



In the span of one block in the West Village, the amount of restaurants, bars and anything in between is overwhelming enough to justify the consumption of Xanax at 2 PM on a Sunday.

To some, it may be really cute and exciting and make choices way more simple but, depending on my mood and appetite I may feel otherwise (both range from 0-300 at indescribable paces).

I ended up at High Street on Hudson for dinner recently, sans reservation, and no wait because I’m a baller and arrived at the perfect second. (The folks who arrived 12 seconds after were not as blessed.) I also waited a good several months for the hype to hopefully fizzle before entering the premises. I feel accomplished to finally take it off my never-ending List.

The place is cute, nicely sized and decorated, with a tasty menu composed of┬ámany items that you’ll like gravitate to, and so on. Service was spotty–taking a long while to order drinks and receive them, but the food was pretty spot on. Not OMG HOLY SHIT, but good.


Get the carrot hummus. Why wouldn’t you? Fava bean toast was excellent, little gem salad was as good as a little gem salad gets, and the grilled mushroom dish had an interesting medley of flavors that we were digging. The rice was a bit too al dente, but it was a fun melange of flavors overall. Feeling French AF, let me (see: melange).


If you’ve never been, it may be best to go on a brunch outing. They’re known for the baked goods here, so I think that’s a nice common sensical approach. I’m glad that’s a word.

That will be all.

High Street on Hudson, 637 Hudson Street


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