An Orange Feeding Den in the EV

(At right: S'MAC's interior. Image from their website, http://www.smacnyc.com/home.html)

It was mid-afternoon on St. Patrick’s Day in New York, and we were getting agitated. Already an unmemorable uptown bar had denied us, presentable fakes notwithstanding. It played bad music anyhow. So we made the trying journey downtown, enduring a crowded subway and then block after block in the sun. Our breakfasts of hot toddies and car bombs steadily wore off. Hangovers started to set in. And we were hungry.

Some in our party just wanted to get to the next pub and put our setbacks behind us. But in others, hunger began to override even the anticipation of further bacchanalia. I thought and thought as we emerged in the East Village, my longtime stomping ground. Our situation demanded good drunk food – dishes that come in large quantities, are inexpensive, and are filling but not overwhelming. Then I remembered a very dear orange eatery over on 12th Street and First Avenue that sells macaroni and cheese.

S’MAC (short for Sarita’s Macaroni and Cheese) has beckoned to passers-by from adjacent dine-in and carryout storefronts since 2006. Therein, one finds a simple menu featuring 12 variations on the classic pasta/dairy mashup and little else. But no matter how peculiar (and they go pretty far out there), these renditions reign supreme in the New York area. Not many respectable establishments could pull off a mélange of the eponymous dish with buffalo chicken. But S’MAC does. And that warrants my utmost respect.

Should you choose to stick around, the staff will bring out your order in the skillet in which it was cooked, available in four sizes; I ordered the second-smallest ( Major Munch ) and it filled my famished stomach with ease. I couldn’t imagine what Partay, the largest, possibly looks like. A gargantuan pot, maybe, filled to the brim with cheesy elbow macaronis?

Reasonable orders don’t strain the wallet. Pasta can be normal, multigrain or gluten-free, according the company’s website. Additional shreds of cheese and, if you so choose, breadcrumb line the top with a crust in a serving style increasingly scarce. The staff wasted little time behind the counter, and prepared our order with remarkable speed considering the amount of other customers before us. On my last visit, at a time after lunch but not quite evening, the place was moderately full. I’ve seen nights when a line spills onto the street. Understand that this is a neighborhood favorite, and attracts a coinciding crowd.

My other companion who took a detour to S’MAC that day is now among that crowd. I was coming down from a St. Patrick’s Day reverie, he abstains from alcohol, and we both enjoyed our All-Americans (standard order – American and cheddar) on an equal level. No matter what sort of hunger afflicts you, S’MAC is here. It’s waiting.