The time has come to enlighten you all--including my new coworker readers KW and MB, hey guys!--of my trip to Bushwick. Yes, Bushwick.
Once upon a Tuesday night, seven Long Island natives trekked from their respective jobs to the wasteland knows as Williamsburg for some pub trivia. Much to their dismay, trivia was a non-occurrence. In response, Park Slope resident RJ suggested an impromptu rendezvous at Roberta's, the grittier that gritty pizza zone in Bushwick. Bushwick?! Come on now, R! Man, do I love Brooklyn, but Buckwick's a little outta my league!
But off we went, by way of the L, to Bushwick, where we waited a whole hour for a table in the converted garage of a restaurant that served, quite literally, little slices of heaven. If you're willing and ready to wait, make the trip.
Key takeaway from this experience: New York has gone culinarily crazy if we now trek to Bushwick just to be fed!