Oliva

Young'un shot an e-mail to a bunch of us inviting the crew to Saturday night tapas and drinks. I was thrilled and sat back to let Young'un make his choice. Then he mentioned Xunta and it was time for an intervention. I went once, lost my voice trying to speak over the flamenco dancers and burst my eardrums as they walloped a wooden plank (think tap dancing and multiply it by 100 decibels and you'll understand what I'm talking about). That and I was so uncomfortable eating on the barrels I vowed never to go back.

Without any hesitation, I turned to my tapas guru Winette. I have been to a handful of places: Alta, Stanton Social, Esperanto and Xunta, and while I enjoyed the first two, I felt they were a little fancy for what would most likely end up being a down and dirty pre-game dinner. I hadn't been to Esperanto in years and it was, unfortunately, off my radar. Now, having recently returned for a friend's birthday dinner, I definitely would have considered going there that night.

Me: Mayday! Mayday, Winette. I need tapas places!
Winette: Oliva, Boqueria, Pipa, Tia Pol.
Me: Damn, Gina! You're good.
Winette: Wait, how many people?
Me: Probably around 10 rowdy kids.
Winette: OK, scratch Tia Pol it's t-t-t-t-iny!

I did some research and decided on Oliva. Young'un seemed happy with the idea so I was happy.

When I emerged from the bowels of the subway I was completely confused. I pictured the restaurant on Houston, but I didn't realize it was right smack on the corner of Allen and Houston. A restaurant on the main drag worried me -- there's something appealing about a restaurant on a quiet cross street-- but once I walked in, I realized everything would be alright.

A few kids were seated already happily sipping on sangria. I was psyched we scored the long table right in the middle. The first thing I noticed was the tiles under my feet, which gave it a sort of baths-like quality, and an assortment of olives waiting for me. I was in heaven. The Basque escape was one you might find on the Bay of Biscay near San Sebastian.

I was impressed how much they crammed into such a tiny space. It was so European of them. It added to Oliva's charm, though I will say I was intimidated to get out of my seat for fear of knocking into someone, or more importantly, the grub. A group of girls walked in and walked right back out when they saw the lack of seats available.

Our waitress was very friendly and proactive about keeping our sangria pitchers full. The busers were a little gruff, however. I was leaning over my chair to get something, most likely my camera out of my purse, and one of them came flying by and banged my elbow without so much as a whisper or a glance saying he was sorry. This comes with the small territory that is Oliva. Take it or leave it.

My fork couldn't keep up with my eyes or stomach that night. Busers were hurling plates onto our table like they were throwing frisbees in Central Park. Plates landed, friends scooped them up and tough tapas if it didn't come to your hands to steal a bite. It was to each his own.

I managed to snap a quick photo of most of the dishes, but like the person on vacation when your high school yearbook pix were taken, there are some missing-from-picture items we tried that won't get their mug posted here: fritters, calamari and mussels to name a few. The mussels were bland and really small, but we were all fighting over who got the last bite of fritter and calamari. Unfortunately, all were eaten too quickly for me to document.

We decided we would each order two items and try to switch it up. If we heard any repeats the person was quickly booed.

This filo-wrapped portobello mushroom was one of the best plates on the table. It was unlike anything I'd ever tried and the texture was amazing. FunnyGirl and I kept gnawing and nibbling and saying, "Uh huh, this is awesome, uh huh, this is awesome."


And here we skip to my least favorite -- the stuffed crab. If it's not soft-shell I won't order it. I tried a bite, but wasn't that impressed. FunnyGirl next to me, however, thoroughly enjoyed it.


When I saw bacon-wrapped dates on the menu I thought Spotted Pig! Devils on horseback! I didn't even bother to ask the table if anybody liked this dish because I would have been happy if they didn't and I would have ordered them anyway. I love these and as you can see, Oliva's were massive. They gave the devils at Freemans and The Spotted Pig a run for their money. They were so moist, yet so crispy. I'm dying for these right now at home on my couch.


We ordered a couple of different tortillas espanolas. Each tortilla was a cross between quiche and a really thick frittata. They had eggs, potatoes and onions, tomatoes and peppers.

This was one of my favorites. If I came back this would be a must eat. It was heavy on the potatoes and light on the eggs. I'm a sucker for all things potato and the fact that they pack more potatoes per square inch into each slice than any other dish in existence made me one happy, stuffed girl.


Who knew a tapas place could do meatballs so well? They were savory and juicy and reminded me of my city favorites at Morandi. Even the marinara sauce was chunky and spicy -- a pleasant surprise for an Italian girl.


Just when we'd thought we'd had enough said catering waitress brought us out a complimentary round of shots. This was an unexpected treat and a perfect way to end the dinner, especially after we'd just about emptied out the Oliva kitchen. I forget what she called them, but they sounded sexy and we downed them.


I could go to Oliva next time and sit happily at the bar and snack on a few items from their great menu. Winette turned me onto bar-eating and I'm going through withdrawal. Citysearch voted Oliva the best first date place in 2008, beating out Allen and Delancey, Little Branch and Death & Co. I think that's a stretch, but a fun tidbit all the same. What would your pick be?

The night ended with some Back Room buffoonery, which I will leave out of this post, for fear of implicating those whose names will go unmentioned (*cough cough* BYOWino). Let's just say it involved white tea cups, six bottles of red wine, yellow grocery bags, some spills and a big angry bouncer. I think three of us may have made it onto Back Room's "Do Not Admit" list. If they don't have one, they should.


*Oliva only accepts American Express
161 E. Houston, south side of street, where Allen meets 1st Ave.
(212) 228-4143

*Back Room
102 Norfolk St, between Delancey and Rivington
(212) 228-5098