Viva la devolution!
With its faux-peeling paint job and Third-World decor, Bodeguita Cubana aims to evoke some dive straight out of Fidel Castro’s Caribbean archipelago.
And how: Like Cuba, the tiny eatery lacks a steady flow of Americans passing through the door. A mere seven patrons paid a visit to the 25-seat East Village eatery during the Friday lunch hour.
But good riddance! Those mohawked messengers and Chihuahua-toting N.Y.U. girls would muss up the lazy atmosphere.
Open windows and churning fans stirred the heavy, 90-degree air, drawing in a couple of dressed-down lawyers in t-shirts and cargo-shorts. “Do you wanna make partner?” asked one. “No, I wanna have a life,” replied the other.
When he wasn’t ignoring patrons in favor of reading the paper, a gruff, yet grandfatherly waiter dressed in a grease-spotted t-shirt served plates piled with fries and panino sandwiches. Sadly, the place ran out of mint lemonade and red-hibiscus iced tea rations.
Commies!
