Sake Bar Hagi, the basement izakaya on 47th Street. It's got its own kind of mob - you've got to get there pretty close to 6:30 PM if you want to be seated right away, but it's always a rewarding experience. Every time we go, we notice something we haven't tried on the menu, and last night, it was the deep-fried pizza. When we ordered, we checked for any signs of disapproval from the waiter over such a gimmicky-sounding choice - not even a slightly raised eyebrow.
When the plate with the two pizza slices arrived, we wondered if perhaps our judgement had been wrong after all - it looks like something that might be served at a frat party in hell. How do you even eat these things? After some embarrassing attempts to be graceful about it, we ended up just stabbing them with our chopsticks and gnawing at them, state fair-style. Not pretty. But our shame quickly faded as we chowed down, slipping into the hazy bliss that can only be induced by a tempura-coated combo of bread, sauce and cheese. Talk about guilty pleasures. It's a miracle we stayed awake during the play afterward.