Tuesday, March 8, 2016
A Spoonful of Sofrito: Remembering La Nacional, A Treasure Lost!
A Spoonful of Sofrito: A Pinch of advice that will add a lot of flavor to your life.
Remembering La Nacional,
A Treasure Lost!
My heart is broken! A piece of history is gone! La Nacional, an amazing Spanish restaurant in Chelsea, has closed its doors.
Yesterday, I was sitting eating my lunch, when I received a notice from Eater.com to check out a few of their latest articles. I decided to click on a few and to my dismay I read the title, "Remembering La Nacional, A Treasure Lost!"
I shouted, "Oh, fuck no!" I couldn't believe this incredible, unpretentious, deeply historical, and overall extraordinary eatery had closed. I will miss La Nacional.
I discovered it years ago with my partner David. We both loved the food and the ambiance. It wasn't one of these ultra chic or trendy Yuppie/Hipster/Chelsea Boy establishments, full of assholes who are full of themselves. It was laid back, welcoming and peaceful.
La Nacional was a place where you could just chill and eat good food. You didn't have to be bombarded by the obnoxious losers who love to visit Chelsea.
Since our first visit, David and I have eaten there several times. I've visited several times on my own as well. I've loved eating there alone, enjoying the Paella and reading X-Men comics.
All good things must come to an end! I will miss La Nacional. I wish I had written about it and recommended it to more people. Check out the article below on this great culinary loss! ¡Buen provecho!
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An appreciation for an old Chelsea favorite
Since 1868, the Spanish Benevolent Society on West 14th Street has been anchor of the fading neighborhood known as Little Spain. Its barren basement bar was a gathering place, first for Basque mariners, then for immigrants from many regions of Spain, and later for community leaders, diplomats, and visiting artists and writers, some of whom lodged in the transient rooms upstairs. By tradition, Luis Buñuel, Federico Garcia Lorca, and Pablo Picasso all stayed upstairs during visits to New York, and presumably took the occasional nightcap in the downstairs workingman’s bar.