Mini Restaurant Review: Westville East

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07/02/2008 11:17 AM |

It takes too long to get into Caracas, the arepas restaurant in the East Village. And when I went there last night, to wait outside for an hour, someone had planted her toddlers directly in front of the door so they could color on the ground with chalk. No, I guess that’s fair though, because a baby has to color.

We went to Westville East instead, the eclectic American/soul food/salad food restaurant on 11th and Avenue A. It’s a little white box of a restaurant, with big windows and tiny, tiny waitresses. I broke my vow of never drinking Coors Light (which I made a few years ago because of their insipid men-are-idiot-clowns-and-women-are-their-toys ads) because those recent commercials about how the Coors Light bottle turns blue when it’s cold have changed my mind. Seriously. I really like that. And because the special at Westville East last night was a Coors Light bottle for $3. Which is a pretty shitty deal anyway. (Other drinks were in the $5-$10 range.)

The various burgers are delicious, or so I’m told, and so it seemed when I saw the burger platters being carried from the kitchen. Instead, I had a giant salad of roasted, candied walnuts, parmigiano reggiano, arugula, watercress, pears and lemon vinagrette ($9) and a side of sweet potato fries ($5 by itself, or if I had wanted 3 additional sides from the giant “market” section of the menu–lots of vaguely gourmet fresh veggie concoctions–all four would have been only $14). My brother had the grilled salmon with dill pesto sauce ($13) and a cranberry oatmeal cookie with a vanilla frosting filling ($3), and my friend got the grilled chicken ($13). Both said their meals were terrific, and I ate the end of my brother’s dish and agree that it was. Their corn on the cob with lime, cumin and cotija cheese (pictured) is $5 for two ears and delicious. But I think it’s impossible to combine those ingredients to any other effect.

Westville East (and Westville West, in, yes, the West Village) is a decently priced, tasty and airy option if the more popular cheapish spots (Momofuku, Caracas, Cafe Mogador, the other Momofuku) are too packed. Be warned, though, that it’s not a sure bet–it does get crowded later in the evening. As does everywhere slightly above average in the East Village, in case you’ve never been to the East Village.

Westville East
173 Avenue A, at E 11th St

8 Comment

  • For what it’s worth, my younger brother refuses to drink Coors Light, even if it’s like out of the case that someone else brought, because Pete Coors is a far-right dick. Personally, I find the new ads for Original Coors very amusing, the ones with guys in flannel and baseball caps playing pool and doing man stuff while the narrator (who is I beleive Sam Elliott?) goes on about how the people making Original Coors, like you and your bros, are “set in our ways”. Coors: for people who would prefer to resist the tide of history.

    Also, it’s nice that you boycott products with misogynist TV spots. No wonder I’ve never seen you drink any beer, ever.

  • That corn is going to make me kill myself.

  • Surely, Mark, you’re not calling Edith a hypocrite for drinking, like, Brooklyn Lager, are you?

  • Actually, I never drink Brooklyn Lager because the B is shaped like exaggerated, exposed, nippleless bosoms, and I don’t think naked women belong on beer bottles.

  • I thought we weren’t supposed to eat salmon anymore?

  • Did we ever figure out what that grave thing was, couple posts down?

  • Wouldn’t it be great if all of our food came in pills,like on the Jetsons? Or in bars, like on the Simpsons?

  • 1. Right, we’re not. But, as this post further illustrates, my will is weak, especially when my brother was just going to throw it away. If I were a salmon I wouldn’t want to be killed and eaten, but if I had been anyway, I wouldn’t want good parts of me to be thrown away. This logic is flawed, I imagine, but there you go. I was actually thinking these thoughts as I chose to eat it last night.

    2. The grave is the grave of Charles Irving Thornton, the only American baby to have an epitaph written by Charles Dickens.

    3. No