extra virgin: the first time

i was still living in the west village when extra virgin opened, but never made it there before packing up and away to the LES and murray hill, and it simply fell off my radar until this weekend when my friend zovig suggested it for brunch. i welcomed her idea in part because i was just so happy that it still lived there. the notion of a basque scramble (pepperonata, creamy polenta, salsa verde, avocado puree, and...chorizo), a smoked salmon and potato tart, or roasted artichoke provençal, cinched the deal.

we were lucky, at 12:30 to snag a window table for two, a high counter, right about the heater (set to HIGH) to warm our toes. the whole scene, overlooking west 4th street and its parade of strollers (with strollers?) was a nice comfort, a way to soothe the readjustment back to WINTER, after a sunny, tease of spring the day before.

(it was also a good opportunity to quick test the 100mm...lots of natural light...)

i opted for the roasted artichoke...

this is maybe a bit too close to appreciate the dish, but i love that you can see the grain of the cheese and the delicacy of the poached egg white...

i love the graceful neck of the artichoke. and the contralto to this heavenly chorus: nice smoky bites of pancetta.

there was one thing missing for me: a few slices of hearty peasant bread to soak up the medley of yolk and cheese bits and dressing (presumably made of extra virgin olive oil). shouldn’t good bread be compuslory at an establishment that purports to offer choice olive oils?

maybe the olive oil was so dipping delicious the night before that there was none left over?

(maybe i get lucky next time.)