View from the porcelain throne in the Little Muffaletta Eater’s Room, Enoteca, South Congress
As far as ancillary cafés attached to popular South Congress “wood fired pizza” joints go, Enoteca, that previously-discussed bulge off the starboard side of Vespaio, is Stingray’s favorite.
The fried oysters we had there yesterday, which were breaded in cornmeal and came with chile mayo, were, I am sad to report, somewhat leaden and overfried and like unto little fishtank-flavored rocks that get off in your mouth, but the pissoir, as anyone can see, is the demented work of a mind unencumbered by either the burden of taste or a shortage of remnant tile.
Stingray enjoyed her muffaletta, which, because she has people in New Orleans, she pronounces “moofalotta.” The Enoteca version appeared to be little more than an excuse to smear assorted tapenades all over a big round bun.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that.