Llama Inn — A Girl's Guide to Drinking Alone

50 Withers St at Lorimer St, Williamsburg

The Place: An outrageously delicious Peruvian restaurant tucked under the BQE.

The Time: Monday January 27, 6:15pm. I’m finding it really hard not to get bogged down by the January blues, or the fact that the world is literally on fire while also being absolutely frigid in New York, or that this country is officially being run by evil oligarchs. So I’ve been taking the little wins in my life and celebrating them properly, because we need some joy to cut through the literal and metaphorical gray clouds. After filming a promo video for my upcoming book (SHAMELESS PLUG: my next cocktail book, Spirited Women, another collab with genius Olivia McGiff, is coming out on March 4. Pre-order yours now!) I decided to treat myself to a pisco sour and some ceviche at a Peruvian restaurant I’ve been wanting to go to for ages: Llama Inn.

The Vibe: The restaurant is located on a weird little triangle under the BQE, but inside it’s like a modern greenhouse. There are plants everywhere, huge windows, a large open kitchen. The bar is in the center of the space, mimicking the triangle of the real estate the restaurant occupies, it seems. The geometry is everywhere, from the bar to the lamps to this strange half-oval squiggly plant wall. It’s gorgeous, it’s dim, and it’s empty. I know it’s early on a Monday in January, but I was expecting a restaurant that’s in the Michelin Guide and has been on The New York Times Best Restaurants list the past few years to be a bit more populated than this. There’s one guy at the bar, and there’s a family at a table, and me. After about an hour, more people start arriving, mainly couples on dates, but I really don’t mind how chill it is. It means I can spread out at the bar and luxuriate in this time with myself. When do we ever get to do that in cramped New York City??

The Bartender: His name is Kiel (Keel? Keal?? Keele??? I’m so sorry) and we only really begin chatting after I’m done with my meal. We spend a while talking about reality TV. He tells me about The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City, we talk Traitors and Drag Race, which inevitably leads to a discussion about Wicked. Kiel is lovely, and just graduated from aesthetician school, so he’s looking to get out of restaurants soon and I applaud him for that.

The Drank: The cocktail menu looks solid, with drinks called “Papi Don’t Peach” and “Paul Mezcal,” but I’m craving a traditional pisco sour. I fucking love pisco, and I fell head over heels in love with Peruvian food when my partner and I took a trip down there last year, so I am in my happy place. I also order the tiradito, which is kind of like Peruvian crudo, and a mango ceviche. My cocktail arrives in a short, squat glass, rather than a stemmed coupe, a peculiar choice for a pisco sour–it feels a little like the drink is trying to escape the glass. But otherwise it’s a perfectly made pisco sour.

Okay, now here is my only gripe with my entire experience at Llama Inn: Before I can even take a photo of my drink, both of my food items come. I know they’re from the same section of the menu, and neither of them are cooked, and there’s really no one else in the restaurant. But my guy, I am only one person. You know I probably wanted one dish first and then the other. Or if not, maybe ask if I wanted one as an app and the other as a main? Because it feels a little crazy to have all this food in front of me at once. But hey, I have the room at the bar for as many plates as my heart desires, so I might as well use it!

I know I don’t talk about food on this blog very often, as drinks are really my forte, but I gotta talk about the food here, because it’s exceptional. The tiradito (which Kiel tells me is fluke today) comes with avocado, onion, and capers, in this silky, vibrant leche de tigre which I could drink on its own. Not to mention it’s freakin’ beautiful so I want to admire it and devour it at the same time. The mango ceviche is wonderfully spicy, with curry and aji amarillo (my favorite new flavor that I had for the first time in Peru and am now obsessed with) playing off each other, with bright pops of herby cilantro and pea leaves. I spend the bulk of my time here not reading like I thought I would, but bouncing around all three of these exquisite tastes, enjoying my meal and marveling at how delicious life can be sometimes. (It’s not lost on me that there’s a price to pay for this deliciousness: all three items were above $20. I’m feeling very fortunate (in more ways than one) that I’m able to indulge in this glorious moment of culinary serenity.)

Was I Hit On?: After all that RHOSLC and Drag Race talk, it’s safe to say I am not Kiel’s type. I ask him about the pisco selection, and he pours me of one the grape varietals that I enjoyed most in Peru, an Italia. And if you think about it, that’s basically like me hitting on myself.

Should You Drink Here Alone?: If I lived in the neighborhood, I would stop by Llama Inn for tiradito and a pisco sour quite frequently, so it’s probably better for my wallet that I don’t. But I absolutely want to come back with friends, ones who savor delicious food as much as I do, and order the whole lot. Because as much as I love going out alone (hell, I have a whole blog about it!), some things are truly better shared.