It wasn't until Saturday evening that we ate at Alma on Columbia Street - I've been meaning to for a long time: just drinks and some appetizers, as we were having a real dinner at home, which was just as well.
The view is a killer, semi-industrial one of Manhattan and Jersey across the harbour - but the guacamole at this Mexican restaurant was bland, made with under ripe avocadoes, under- seasoned, no hint of lime or lemon, or even salt and...well. A waste. What more to say.
The ceviche was a collection of shrimp and scallops in a sweetish tomato soup that tasted like the kind of canned cocktail sauce that comes with those skating rink-sized platters of shrimp served in certain establishments and on game night. I'm told.
I'm dying for a simple ceviche where the fish is very fresh and made even better by citrus juice, take your pick; a herb, take your pick; and simple seasoning or a spice, take your pick.
I wouldn't go back to eat the real food, which is sad, as it's a great rooftop and so many reviews were good. But if the basics are treated with this carelessness, why would the main dishes be any different? I liked my margarita, with cucumber, and Vince's beer tasted just like beer.
Which was quite reassuring.
Tonight I'm making guacamole. With slow-cooked pig.