Our host was French, our servers Serbian and Vietnamese; other staff and patrons were Italian, Argentinean, Portuguese, and Greek. Esperanto is the most widely spoken auxiliary language that has no national origin; invented for political neutrality, it eases communications among internationals. It’s also the apt name of the Lower East Side restaurant where my dining companion, Caroline, and I were lucky enough to take shelter from last Thursday’s snow and ice storm.
Had we visited on an unsnowy Thursday evening, we’d have been treated to Esperanto’s usual live Flamenco performance. I’m sure that’s engaging, but we didn’t mind missing it either—the atmosphere lacked nothing. On the quiet side, it was conversation-friendly, candle-lit, and art bedecked. A vastly windowed place at the corner of East 9th Street and Avenue C, we watched falling snowflakes and the people scuttling through them on icy sidewalks.
Esperanto takes pride in their creative cocktail list. I ordered the jalapeno margarita—an ingenious light green potion served ‘up’ in a martini glass with a slice of the hot pepper. It is slightly sweet, spicy, and playful, and it leaves a smoky sensation in the back of your throat. One sip made my eyes pop open, and I handed the drink over to Caroline in silent insistence that she try it immediately. She agreed that this is one sensational drink, and a step above her (also tasty) passion capirinha.
Caroline and I love to dine together because we share an affinity for the savory, salty, and often fried. And so we revisited the long and sedulous affair I conduct with a form of crispy, starchy deliciousness called tostones. Think of a tostón as the French fry’s more sophisticated, disc shaped cousin. They’re made from unripe, green plantains that are sliced, fried, squashed, and fried once more. Esperanto’s are close to perfect and served salted, piping hot, and with a cool black bean dip drizzled with olive oil. Along that theme we also sampled the plantain crusted goat cheese. Fritter-like balls of soft cheese with a crumbly outside, they’re served over sautéed leeks and alongside dollops of cilantro pesto, tomato salsa, and drizzles of hot sauce.
At most restaurants, I trust the server and order what they suggest. After being asked what’s best, our waitress first pointed out the moqueca bahiana: an African-influenced, waterless Brazilian stew of fish, vegetables, coconut milk, and fresh spices. I chose the crabmeat moqueca (other options are snapper and shrimp), and it arrived in a stout clay pot with sides of white rice and yucca powder. Chunks of the shellfish lay mostly hidden in every bite of this wonderfully dense stew. Caroline had a perfectly seared strip steak with chimichurri sauce and a side of fried yucca. Yes—that is one last fried starch to make a happy appearance at our table.
Stuffed silly, we shared a tart and creamy passion fruit mousse for dessert and turned our attention to the décor. Like many of Esperanto’s dishes, the space itself is adorned in rich, deeply satisfying colors, varying textures, and interesting embellishments. Mini-sculptures, dangling lanterns, paintings, and carvings in saturated colors hang from the walls. Ten years old, Esperanto was an early installment in Alphabet City’s transformation from a relatively high crime neighborhood to hipster mecca. Unlike many of the area’s newer spots, the space feels like it has gotten the hang of being itself.
Many people flock to this space for its busy weekend scene, the live music most nights, or their affordable brunch or prix fixe dinner options. But the savory food overflows with color and texture, and with an ambience of character and brilliant hues, making Esperanto exciting on a slow night. Caroline and I may have visited by chance, but I chose the right friend to bring: multilingual, she bid her adieus in a couple languages as we left.
Esperanto is located at 145 Avenue C. For reservations call 212-505-6559.
