Gina la fornarina: We Went to There

     A visit to Grandpa is always soothed by a cousinly luncheon, and this visit around, we went to Gina la fornarina (the baker's daughter).  We stood on 2nd Avenue in the 80s between two Wants--Gina, and Cascabel--and choose the former since our last Want in Grandpa Herbland was a mexican joint and we wanted a little variety.  The place was, as their logo suggests, super cute, and pretty, and girly, and pink.  Crisp white tables and chairs, against a lovely magenta-like pink.  It was the perfect place to consume a lady-like lunch of fritatta with spinach and fontina cheese with a side of greens.  The fritatta was as dense as a quiche--like a nice, thick slice of pie.  The greens were delicately dressed.  I also had a green tea, a fair amount of which I managed to spill on my (pink) pashmina scarf during a small fit of conversational excitement.  We wished that we had been served some of the grilled bread the lady across from us was served, which came in a rolled down paper bag that suited a certain rustic sensibility of mine.  On our way out, we stopped to gaze at the delicious looking noodle dishes as well as some flatbread pizzas and thought that we might like to come back for an early dinner and a glass of wine.  They had no cookies but we were prepared.  Last week at Northern Spy, we picked up a sweet treat made by the Brooklyn based Liddabit Sweets called The King.  And, oh, how he rules.  He was really a glorified Twix--but when I say glorified, I mean exalted, beatified.  And it was wrapped with a green silk ribbon--chocolate and ribbons? A girl can only take so much.  What made The King so so so so good was this delightful combination: brown butter and brown sugar cookie, peanut butter nougat, and fresh banana ganache. The list of ingredients informed us that the ganache is made with the local Ronnybrook Farms heavy cream.  The dude at Northern Spy told us this bar was so intense that it took him six days to eat it.  After the 72 seconds it took us to enjoy this candy, Helen called him a name I can't mention in polite company, but I can say, as Helen would, that The King is without a doubt, my jam.   

      A brief note on the bathroom: it was pink too, and pleasing.  It was one of those rooms you'd like to linger in a bit--the lighting is nice and you look good in the mirror.  You take your time with the soap and the washing and drying of the hands.  You admire the painting of a half naked lady titled "La Fornarina."