Full Bunny Contact: The Insane Easter Carnival You Never Knew You Needed

I want you to think back to the Easter egg hunts of your youth. The colorful baskets and brightly painted eggs, the pastel stuffed rabbits and transparent plastic grass.

Next, think back to your childhood nightmares. The darkness and unfamiliar scary feeling, the monsters chasing you and taking away your treasured possessions.

Now pretend you’re making egg salad and mash all these memories together. Then spread that egg salad all over a performance space on the Lower East Side. Done? Good. Now you have an understanding of the event I attended last night. Creepy and silly, delightful and bizarre, hilarious and dastardly: this is my experience at Full Bunny Contact.

Full Bunny Contact is billed as an Extreme Egg Hunt and Insane Easter Festival. Which is pretty much the best description ever but this event is so unique it’s hard to wrap your head around it. I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect when I arrived with my friends Elaine and Mark last night.

So I knew the event was mounted by the same people who created Nightmare: NYC, well-regarded as New York’s most terrifying Halloween attraction. It’s an all ages event, though specifically geared toward adults. I’m too jumpy to enjoy haunted houses. Full Bunny Contact didn’t make me jump, but it did make me hop. Which is something I’m totally fine with. Rather than scary it is deliciously unexpected, unapologetic, and unforgettable.

The set up is an Easter Carnival with 10 different games to play, prizes to win, and bunnies to conquer. Yep, at most every turn we faced giant cantankerous bunnies. Lesser foe included an over-grown chicken (petite compared to the rabbits) and a Peep. The bunnies do everything they can to keep you from stealing their Easter eggs. Beat the bunnies and win prizes, the most coveted include tickets Broadway and other NYC attractions.

In the center of the large, dark room is a large fighting cage. Ominous bunnies hang off the chain link fence like fierce MMA fighters. This is were the title event is held, Full Bunny Contact. Easter eggs litter the grassy, astroturf floor and the goal is to collect 10 of them in the provided plastic basket. If you can’t manage that (and few could) you can try for the one Golden Egg in the ring which will also earn you a prize.

Sounds easy right?

Not when you have giant menacing bunnies blocking your path, swatting the eggs out of your basket, and doing everything they can to thwart you! In Full Bunny Contact you face one of these bunnies in a head to head battle.

On the fence in the yellow you have Grandma Bunny. She’s the biggest bunny, grizzly, and bitch does not give a fuck.
On the floor in the cape is The Buninator. Agile and protects his eggs like a machine-like precision.
In the middle stands Tattoo. He’s the reigning champion and he’s got tattoos all up his arms. Maybe to indicate every egg-hunter he’s killed.
On the right is Radioactive Bunny. A mutant half-bunny, half-alien/lizard, look out for his tail.

As we were waiting for our turn in the ring, Elaine asked me: what’s our strategy? “Scream a lot?” I said. That’s my strategy for most competitive situations. It wasn’t going to be enough in this situation. We decided to focus on the golden egg.

We had 40 second in the ring. I was facing Grandma Bunny, Elaine took on Radioactive Bunny.

The charismatic ref (who I’d seen before at Brooklyn Bridge Shakespeare!) handed us our baskets, reminded us of a few key rules, and blew his whistle.

The next 40 seconds were a blur of bunny fur, attempts at distractions, and scrambled eggs.

Oh and screaming. Because that’s my athletic strength.

Somehow our strategy worked! Elaine managed to get the Golden Egg in her basket right as the whistle blew! It flew out the next second, but the ref called it for our team!

Yes! Sweet, sweet victory! Eat grass, ya mangy bunnies!

Need I say this was ridiculous amounts of fun? I think the pictures speak louder than words (thanks for capturing the action Mark!) The bunnies may be aggressive on the field, but you can tell there are good people behind the mask. There were plenty of little kids roaming around last night, that number will only increase over the weekend, and none of them looked scared. It’s all in good fun! Even if you don’t win (okay, that’s coming from a non-competitive person. But I stand by it.)

Other highlights of the event:

Ride The Rabid Rabbit: A mechanical bunny instead of a bull! His dopey, innocent face cracks me up, but his moves aren’t so funny when you’re tossed from his back.

The Psychotic Bunny Fortune Teller: he’ll tell you your fortune in the most insane way, maybe pull out a giant machete to cut a carrot, and maybe even shove disturbing things up his nose.

Bunny Hoops: of course, shoot eggs into a basket!

There’s even an event outside: Little Bunny Fu Fu’s Revenge!

Also known as the Warriar Joust. That bunny jouster is known as White Lightning. For obvious reasons.

This is an Easter event unlike any other, I really recommend you check it out! Have a dinner and a movie date planned this weekend? Rain-check the movie and go to Full Bunny Contact instead! Every showtime has special events, including a Bunny Beauty Pageant tonight and a Temper Tantrum Easter Candy Contest on Saturday (yes, that’s as wonderful as it sounds). Check out the website for more details and event info! Tickets start at just $10.

Showtimes: You can show up at any point with in the time frame. I’d give yourself 1-2 hours to get the most out of it.

Wednesday, April 1 from 6 to 10 pm

Thursday, April 2 from 6 to 10 pm

Friday, April 3rd 12 to 4 pm (Day Block) or 5 to 9 pm (Night Block) * 10pm to 2am (Special Gay Night Dance Party)

Saturday, April 4th from 1 to 6pm (Day Block) or 7 to 11 pm (Night Block)

Sunday April 5th from 11 am to 4pm

At The Clemente located at 107 Suffolk St., between Rivington and Delancey Sts.

Hoping for a Latin Lover

I was excited about a second date.

Do you understand how rare that is? I’m a jaded New York Cliché, I’m not supposed to get excited about dates!

I’ve been on so many dates in this city, I’ve lost count. Dating is just part of my routine. It involves minimal expectation, I’m usually able to keep my hopes to a minimum: “Hopefully I’ll have fun. Hopefully he won’t make me want to gouge my eyes out and stuff my ears with cotton. Hopefully I won’t resort to heavy drinking to make this guy palatable.”

I wasn’t just excited about this date, I was also nervous.

excited-nervous — Excited + nervous: recipe for disaster? [credit: Matt Harvey]

Not just a little nervous. The day of the date I was I-hate-my-hair, what-the-fuck-am-I-wearing, let’s-second-guess-everything nervous. It got so bad I ran to Forever 21 on my lunch break and bought a whole new outfit. I’m not kidding, I did that. That’s something I’ve never done before (but will probably do again).

When the college student cashier handed me the yellow bag containing the new dress I needed to buy and needed to change into before leaving work for my date, I had to admit the obvious: I liked this guy.

I liked him and I had hopes. Hopes that maybe he liked me too! That maybe this second date would turn into a third and then and fourth and then before I knew it I’d lose count! Hopes that maybe this was the start something! There was nothing jaded about this, dammit!

We’d only been on one date and here I was hoping. Uh oh. I’d just bought a dress from Forever 21, it was too late to stop myself now.

On the first date, conversation flowed smoother than the wine from the bottle of red we shared. We talked about dinosaurs, pirates, winter vacations, and books. That’s the weird, winding path to my heart. Most dates get lost on a turnpike that leads no where: “What do you do?” and “What kind of music do you listen to?” Not this one. When he made me laugh, there was nothing courteous about it. I don’t remember what he said, but I remember my laugh because it was loud and long and genuine. Anytime I laugh like that, I fall in love, just a little.

He was from Costa Rica, every word out of his mouth was spiced with Latin flavor. The Latin Lover fantasy is so established it has its own Wikipedia page. He was the complete trifecta: tall, dark, and handsome. It would have been harder to resist. Then at the end of the date he caught me by surprise, kissing me on the lips without a moment of hesitation. Bohemian Man-Children never do that.

What kind of butterflies live in Costa Rica? I have some inhabiting my stomach, I’d like to know.

I was excited and nervous. Can you blame me? A Latin Lover Cliché for a New York Cliché, come on, it’s perfect!

I had hopes. I bet after reading this, you do too. Perhaps hopes I’ll write more on the subject?

March 30, 2015October 27, 2016

11 Times When the NYC Subway DOESN’T Suck!

1 When an adorable baby on the train locks eyes with you.

He’s so cute you don’t even care when the train gets stuck in a tunnel for ten minutes. You’re too busy playing peek-a-boo with the one person train who won’t break any laws of common decency if he shit himself on public transportation.

2 When “SHOWTIME” means a Broadway-worthy performance.

The cast of Broadway’s The Lion King performed a song as a flash mob subway car and it’s basically this best thing ever.

3 When some one else on the train is reading the same book you are.

I checked out 1984 from the library on a whim. I’d never read it before, everyone else has, I wanted to join the club. Apparently the New York public school system had the exact same idea at the exact same time as me. I’d get on the subway, pull out my book to read, and notice a high school student across the train doing the exact same thing. That happened, no joke, five times. I thought about talking to each of the 5 teens, but refrained out of respect for “stranger-danger”.

Next time I hope I’m reading the same book as one of these hot dudes.

4 When a bride is on the train.

I got on the D train one Sunday morning and found myself in a train car occupied by a full wedding party. The event photographer snapped pictures of the bride and groom hanging on to poles. I looked on just out of frame, smiling at this random life event I had stumbled into.

IMG_1517[1] — A picture I snapped of the bride and her guests.

5 When it’s that one day in January where everyone takes their pants off.

Every January Improv Everywhere has their infamous No Pants Subway Ride. Thousands of people remove their pants as nonchalantly as taking off a jacket. Just for fun-sies!

6 When New Yorkers break out of the stone-faced commuting routine to offer help to a person in need.

I almost fainted on the NYC subway once. It was simultaneously terrifying but also awesome to see how many people saved me from unconsciousness. Stranger-support rather than stranger-danger!

7 When you take the 1 Train during Fashion Week and a dozen gorgeous models get on at Lincoln Center.

It’s better than watching America’s Next Top Model re-runs.

8 When the entire train car is decorated to celebrate Seinfeld.

Subway advertising campaigns can be very elaborate. To the point where you feel like you traveled back in time to ’94 to be one of Jerry’s short-lived girlfriends.

seinfeld-subway — The Seinfeld Subway Car!

10389986_651662724904089_5177163654276250665_n — Or maybe one of George’s girlfriends.

9 When kids turn around on their seats and perch on their knees to watch the strange underground world out the window.

To that kid, that ride is magical. The dark blackness of the tunnel is full of mystery and magic. This isn’t a commute, it’s an adventure. They’re hoping to catch a glimpse of real-life Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

subway-window — It’s not always just the kids… my friend Matt and I try to catch a peak of the old City Hall Station.

10 When you realize the person sitting across from you is a celebrity.

Sometimes it’s a celebrity who obviously is hoping no one recognizes him.

Tom Hanks seen riding the subway — [credit]

Sometimes it’s a celebrity who is hoping everyone recognizes her.

11 When the doors of the train open and it’s crush-at-first-sight.

New Yorkers develop fleeting subway crushes all the time. See Craigslist Missed Connections for proof. When you see someone act on their subway crush in the moment, it’s like watching a romantic comedy. We’re all routing for you to fail in a grand and comedic fashion, buddy!

Of course, for each of these nice moments, you could probably come up will 11 subway horror stories. It wouldn’t be NYC if people weren’t bitching about the MTA. But hey, sometimes I like to look on the bright side. That’s how you know I’m a native Californian, not a New Yorker!

March 26, 2015April 22, 2015

Not What I Wanted: That Moment You Learn an Ex-Boyfriend Got Married

Awesome Guest Post by Lilly Vanek

They looked happy.

Maybe she wasn’t as cute as me, and someone had clearly blurred out his chronic acne with Photoshop, but they looked happy.

I made the mistake of looking at the Facebook page of my first college boyfriend, who, apparently, had just gotten married.

With a dull ache in my chest I imagined their wedding, no doubt in a sunny field somewhere in rural Maryland. I imagined mason jars full of twinkle lights on linen covered picnic tables, one of those stupid photo booths with the fake mustaches, dozens of cute decoration ideas pilfered from the annals of Pinterest.

I was at once bitter and relieved.

There was a time that I would have loved to have been the girl in that picture. But about a year into our relationship, I realized that he wasn’t what I wanted.

He was sweet, and good, and kind, and had a really cool red resonator blues guitar which he used to write crappy (but well-intentioned) songs about me. We’d go to college parties and smoke weed together and watch stupid television shows, content to not do much else.

But he never saw himself leaving Maryland. He never thought it was realistic of me to want to live in New York City, when it was the one thing I dreamed of since living in Manhattan briefly as a teenager. I was devastated when I realized that I would have to break up with him if I wanted to move, if I wanted to do something more with my life than marry my first serious boyfriend and make babies in suburbia. (Which, just so we’re clear, is a perfectly noble pursuit, if that’s what you’re into.)

My dad wanted to apologize to him on my behalf, apologize for me breaking his heart. I feared that I’d ruined him. He had loved me, and I screwed it up.

But there he is.

And here I am.

I sat on the subway thinking about that picture, of him and his (admittedly pretty) new wife smiling and holding flowers. I was jerked out of my melancholy by a clap of hands and a boisterous shout of “SHOWTIME!” I looked up from my seat on the L train. A bunch of “showtime” kids, those low-budget acrobats native to the New York City subway system, had begun flailing their bodies in time with music pumping out of a tiny boom box. In looking up I narrowly avoided getting kicked in the face with a size 12 Nike Air Max.

I smiled.

This is what I wanted.

I continued on my way to the Trader Joe’s near Union Square, on a Sunday afternoon, because I am, apparently, a glutton for punishment. Shockingly, I did not have to wait in a line around the block to get into the grocery store; I did, though, narrowly avoid being crushed between two hipsters and their carts full of kale and quinoa.

This is what I wanted.

I ate a pizza slice, folded in half, then took the L train back to my Bushwick apartment.

This is what I wanted.

I imagine they have a lovely little house full of furniture from Target. I imagine they both have office jobs or maybe he’s still working as a carpenter. I imagine they have a circle of suburban friends who all also have office jobs, who gave up creative dreams in favor of white picket fences. I imagine they have a sweet, simple life.

That wasn’t what I wanted.

I don’t have a house, I don’t have a husband. I live in a rented basement apartment in Bushwick with three jazz musicians. I work full-time as a nanny, taking care of rich people’s babies while I finish college and pursue a career in writing. I have a boyfriend who I met at an east village rock club during a show that his garage-punk band was playing. I play the banjo in several all-girl music projects. I write my own songs now.

I write haikus about New York things like rats and roaches. I have learned that when you find a coveted empty space on a subway car during rush hour, it’s most likely because a homeless person has peed themselves nearby. I have learned that when you have a roach in your apartment, it helps to scream “DIE MOTHERFUCKER DIE MOTHERFUCKER DIE” while wielding your can of RAID. I’ve learned that I will never not take a deep breath while walking through the Village or see the Empire State Building in the distance and think, Holy Shit, I live here. I actually live here.

I’ve figured out a way to make life work in New York City.

This is what I wanted.

I imagine my ex got what he wanted, too.

It just wasn’t me.

Lilly Vanek is a musician, writer, student, and manic pixie dream nanny living and working in New York City. You can find her musings on babies, bands, and being a lady at http://lillysaysthings.tumblr.com/

♥

Thanks so much for sharing this story, Lilly! It is certainly an ever-increasing phenomenon to see exes pop up on Facebook with a bride on their arm. Will this ever be anything but weird?

If you’ve had an ex pop up in such a fashion (or worse) please share in the comments below! If you you’d like to share a full awesome guest post for New York Cliché, too, I’d love that! Email me at newyorkcliche@yahoo.com

March 25, 2015April 1, 2015

12 Things I’m Woefully Sacrificing because of the MTA Fare Increase

On Sunday the Metro Transit Authority (MTA)increased all subway fares. New Yorkers are not happy. A single ride went from $2.50 to $2.75. Those, like me, who take the subway multiple times a day, saw their Monthly Metro Card fee increase from $112 to $116.50.

$4.50 may not seem like a lot folks, but it’s going to result in some very real, life changes for me. As a New York Cliché I am giving voice to the plight of many New Yorkers. I will share the monthly sacrifices I am forced to make because of this fare hike.

Month to Month Sacrifices Caused by the MTA Fare Increase

APRIL

I’ll forget my umbrella at home and get soaked all thanks to the MTA. I would’ve bought a $5 one (totally could’ve haggled down to $4.50) from a street vendor but no. That money went to my unlimited Metrocard and now it’s either get soaked or stand under an awning for 30 minutes instead.

MAY

Sorry Mommy, I can’t get you that $4.50 Hallmark card covered in shiny pictures and generic words. I’ll have to give you a home-made, personal card instead. I know, you’ll be so disappointed! It’s not my fault, Mom! It’s the stupid Transit Authority’s fault! Fare is not fair!

JUNE

There’s going to a sunny day in June where all I want is Pinkberry. With all the toppings, duh. It’ll be hot enough that I start seeing mirages of froyo on the streets of NYC. But I won’t be able to satisfy my craving because a small cup is at least $4.50. Sigh. So sweaty and sad.

1935692_550843722660_1065770_n — Could’ve been me again but no, MTA ruined it.

JULY

The perfect month to go to the Frying Pan where my roommate bar tends. I’ll order 2 of the most hard-to-make cocktails on the menu. I would’ve left a $4.50 tip but… My roomie knows that money went to my monthly Metrocard. She’ll understand.

AUGUST

Eh, I’m going on vacation with my family for two weeks this month. I wouldn’t have bought a monthly Metrocard anyway! Ha, take that MTA! Maybe I’ll spend the other 2 weeks riding CitiBike everywhere! Joke’s on you this month, Metro Transit Authority!

SEPTEMBER

Stealing from your employer is wrong. But the MTA has left me little choice! Before the fare hike I totally would have spent my hard-earned $4.50 on a nice gel-ink pen that writes like a dream. When my Metrocard was $112 a month, I never would have dreamed of stealing a pen from the office! But at $116.50, I don’t have that kind of cash! I’ll slip the pen into my purse while leaving the office, no one’s the wiser. That’s right, folks, the MTA’ll turn me into a petty thief.

OCTOBER

I CAN’T GET A GRANDE PUMPKIN SPICE LATTE! #psl #fml #FuckMTA

NOVEMBER

I’m sure I won’t be the only New Yorker axing cranberry sauce from Thanksgiving. $4.50 had to come out of the Turkey Day meal budget and it was either that or the bottle $4.50 of wine I can get from Trader Joe’s (a splurge from my usual 3 Buck Chuck). The cranberry, pretty and sweet as it is, never had a chance over the almighty grape.

DECEMBER

I might as well let the cat out of the bag now: I’m not buying Pip the Cat a Christmas present. Hey, that’s what the little ungrateful gets for showing minimal interest in any adorable mouse toy I ever bought him! Okay, I’m not a Grinch, I’ll give him the box someone else’s present ships in. Believe me, he will love it more than anything money can buy. And I will save my $4.50.

JANUARY

We’ll never find out if I can pull off earmuffs because I can’t buy the ones that are on sale for $4.50 at H&M. This will be my last winter as a 20-something and a part of me hopes I won’t shop at H&M once I turn 30. This is probably my last chance to wear quirky, cute, cheap-ass earmuffs. My last chance, the MTA fare increase destroys MY LAST CHANCE!!

FEBRUARY

On February 15th I will resist buying that huge bag of pink and red peanut M&M’s that are now 50% off. This candy cost $9 yesterday, today everything changed. It’s such a good deal! Peanut M&M’s are my favorite! I’m probably still single, maybe on my period too! Chocolate would make everything so much better! No. I can’t. Because MTA.

MARCH

That last beer of the night, the one I kinda know I shouldn’t even be drinking? It’s going to have to be a $4 PBR. The attractive man I’m talking to, he would think I was much more sophisticated if I ordered the chocolate stout I really want. But no, he’s just going to think I’m trashy/a hipster. Which, if I’m being honest, is pretty accurate at the end of a night of drinking.

The hardships we New Yorkers endure at the mercy of one of the best 24 hour underground subway systems in the world.

March 24, 2015

On the Bright Side at the Beautiful NYBG Orchid Show

It doesn’t feel like spring. Not one bit. The snow on the first day of spring just added flakey salt to the wounds of this brutal winter. Ugh! Winter, I said we were never ever getting back together, so stop hanging around! Fuck off! Seriously, no one likes you!

Sunday afternoon the sun was out but temperatures hovered in the mid-30s. I’d had enough, more than enough. I decided to do something about it. If spring won’t come to me, then I’ll just have to go to spring!

No, I didn’t head to JFK to by a plane ticket. I went somewhere I venture even less frequently then the airport. The Bronx, where the New York Botanical Garden is located.

The Orchid Show: Chandeliers is the pride and joy of the NYBG. It’s a joy to any spring-starved New Yorker. For the cost of an Imax movie, you get the full sensatory experience of a simulated spring. The smell of the flowers hovers in the air, color bursts from every corner, sun streams in the glass ceilings, and the temperature inside the Haupt Conservatory is best described as balmy.

Cold, dead winter on the outside.

Explosion of all things bright and beautiful on the inside!

Sunshine in actual and flower form.

I’d gotten some bad news earlier that morning. My steady acting gig was over. The business shutting its doors abruptly and permanently. Needless to say I was crushed. Surrounding myself with flowers was the best antidote.

Seriously the best. It was impossible not to look on the bright side while walking among the orchids. In fact I felt like I’d entered the physical incarnation of the bright side.

The Orchid Show: as beautiful as winter is long. You can totally steal that from me, NYBG. It’s the perfect slogan for this year.

It was a Sunday, probably the busiest day of the week. There were a ton of old couples, families with kids, crowds every where. Usually I hate crowds, but not on this visit. Everyone seemed in a good mood, it was tangible. I swear it made strangers more courteous than usual.

Sometimes I’d look up and feel like I was in Harry Potter’s Herbology class. Magical, I tell ya.

They say everything you could ever need is right here in New York City. Even that tropical vacation you couldn’t afford this winter.

Complete with selfies and flower crowns. Hey, I gotta be cliché about it.

If you’ve been battling seasonal depression, if your feel like winter will never end, if your world has felt black and white recently, if you’re searching for creative inspiration, or obviously, if you love flowers I strongly recommend this orchid show. It gave me the strength I needed to stay sane until spring actually arrives. Any day now….right? Right??

The Orchid Show runs through April 19th and is $20 for adults on weekdays, $25 on weekends. Orchid Evenings are a fun option too, featuring a cocktail viewing of the show on Saturday nights. Further info about this and upcoming exhibits at nybg.org

March 23, 2015March 23, 2015

Food Porn, Goat Love, and Other Deliciousness at Village Voice Choice Eats 2015

New York Cliché sent Tolly “Rose” to cover this awesome foodie event.

In the spirit of this blog, I arrived to the Village Voice Choice Ea ts 2015 event wearing a huge bag, high heels, and a press pass, on the outer edge of “fashionably late”—talk about a NY Cliché. I entered a bit frazzled, which might explain my assumption that the song blaring from the speakers was the classic rock mainstay, The Who’s “Won’t Get Food Again.” ‘What an ironic choice,’ I thought as I hummed along.

That song is, of course, actually titled “Won’t Get Fooled Again,” but I did not know these correct lyrics until, well, when I looked up the tune to write this article. This was not the last time I fooled myself that night.

SONY DSC — Choice Eats prepping [Photo Credit: Farooq Alihassan]

Unaware of my musical ignorance, I maneuvered around large groups of beer guzzlers to the first booth I saw. In this eighth edition of the annual food festival, over 50 restaurants participated by providing samples of some of their best dishes. I was on a mission to find the best offerings. My first bite set the tone for the night—Pulled Pork and a Sweet Corn Cake from Mable’s Smokehouse. One mouthful of that succulent meat and I decided to focus my attentions of proteins of the animal variety.

I continued on my course, picking up a glass of Barefoot Malbec along the way, before my eyes landed on another sample of pulled pork. I raced to that table and put the morsel in my mouth only to be met with a tangier and earthier taste than expected. It was incredible. Before asking the chef about the dish though, or, you know, thanking him for the orgasm in my mouth, I was distracted by another selection across the way.

Behind a busy line stood the Manhattan Moonshine booth where servers wearing elegant suits poured cocktails like Charleston Brambles out of glass jars. It somehow managed to have a sophisticated, speakeasy vibe in the midst of a convention hall packed with folding tables under not-exactly-flattering lighting. I took a sip of what looked like pink lemonade. The guy behind me in line summed up the cocktail best with a booming, “Hooo!” It was strong, though not unpleasant, like a well placed jab during a massage.

Still, I couldn’t get my meat experience out of my mind. I returned to the previous booth, which belonged to Casa Mono & Bar Jamon, for seconds.

There I discovered the ingredients to what I had loved so much: the sauce was made of a creamy avocado, goat cheese and pistachios poured under pulled goat. Meats look similar when cooked this way, but I was still surprised that I did not immediately discern the difference between the two barn animals (one says oink and the other baa, for God’s sake). I was even more amazed by how much I loved eating kid. Unfortunately, according to the New York Times, I’m pretty late to the goat-loving foodie cliché.

All together I tried over 20 dishes, and sampled about a dozen drinks (small samples, I swear!).

My favorites:

Bourbon from the Catskills Distillery

Pineapple Bun Sliders from Brooklyn’s 2 Duck Goose

The newly released Right-O-Way beer from Southern Tier

East Pole’s Braised Heritage Goat Sandwich—there we go again with the goat!

choice-eats-Village-Voice — Tolly eating Braised Heritage Goat Sandwich: braised goat, Vermont Creamery chevre, roasted parsnip puree on Toasted Pullman. Find it at East Pole’s location on E 65th in Manhattan.

I also adored the Shredded Grilled Beef Tongue from The Gorbals. In keeping with the theme of the night, I misheard the chef and thought I was eating “Beef Tender” until I started chewing. Yes, they had hanging menus clearly stating everything in the dishes, but I was just so enraptured by what was on the tables to bother looking up at the signs hanging above. Let’s say I was blinded by a new-found love of goat and beef tongue!

By 9:30 the music had turned from classic rock to the Kings of Leon. People in aprons left their stations and unwound with some beverages—some breweries even gave out 6 packs to the chefs in appreciation for their hard work. I threw back my last beer of the night, an Oskar Blue’s Throw Back IPA (as tasty as it was fitting) and headed for the coat check. As I left, a mass of inebriated men held each others shoulders and sung along with the stereo, “Tex-Mex on Fire.”

Ahem, “Sex on Fire.”

Tolly is a writer and editor living in New York. Her work can be seen in Time Out New York, The Villager, and Affect Magazine. Readers of the blog may recognize her as “Rose,” Mary Lane’s roommate and co-mother to their precious—though undisciplined—cat, Pip. Follow her on twitter @tollyw.

If your stomach AND heart feel empty that you missed this event, I have good news! The Village Voice has another amazing food event coming up May 5th! The Village Voice Choice Streets, featuring NYC’s best food trucks. Tickets and more info can be found on their website.

In other NYC foodie news, thanks to everyone who entered my Macaron Give-Away! #1 was picked by random.org so Richard Ondrovic, you win! Get you address to me ASAP [newyorkcliche(at)yahoo.com] so these macarons can be super fresh! Have a sweet week everyone!