Forget what I said a couple of posts ago. I’m very happy to be back in Astoria, mostly because I’ve gotten back to my usual activities: eating and walking and poking around in grocery stores. Last night Peter and I went to dinner at a place called Mundo (31-18E Broadway, but really, on 32nd St. just south of Broadway). This is old news to cool Astorians, as it’s been open since last summer, and I don’t know why I haven’t gotten it together to go before.

I guess it’s because I didn’t know they had manti (really, there shouldn’t be a dot on that ‘i’, and it’s pronounced “man-tuh”). Those are the dainty little Turkish meat dumplings that are drowned in garlicky yogurt. Their daintiness is testament to the legions of limber-fingered kitchen slaves, I mean loving Turkish wives and grandmothers, who are dedicated to churning them out by the thousands. They’re so tiny it’s almost like eating breakfast cereal when you scoop them up with a spoon.

So the dumplings were divine; we also had very tender and tasty baby okra, a delectable Argentine-style empanada with that nice sweet/meaty filling, tasty cold lentil patties wrapped up in lettuce, and artichoke hearts served with fava bean paste molded into pretty shapes. That latter thing even somehow made Egyptian-style fava bean paste (bisara) a bit more appealing.

And we had some nice warming gluhwein to start, and a really yummy, fluffy almond cake for dessert. And it was reasonably priced.

And I haven’t even gotten to the vibe and general decor, which is really a treat. Astoria generally suffers from the faux-bistro phenomenon. These are the restaurants that cater to diners looking for a “non-ethnic” experience, but they’re only eerie not-quite-right imitations of places that are a dime a dozen in Manhattan. Crappy fonts on the menus, overly decorative plates, gum-chewing waitstaf and a clientele made up largely of real-estate agents and their girlfriends–these are the giveaways of the faux-bistro. But I can’t complain too much because I’m generally happy that Astoria isn’t overrun with yuppies and hipsters.

Which is what makes Mundo so nice–it’s a hipster place without the hipsters, and it doesn’t seem to be trying too hard. Someone’s photos are hung on the wall from coathangers. Tiny disco balls and miniature shoes dangle from the ceiling. The music is global electronica. And the owners are a young Turk and an Argentine, both of which delight me because (1) fanatical Greek Astoria needs more Turks, who, frankly, cook better food, and (2) Argentines are the newest arrivals in the neighborhood, and they seem like the youngest and coolest, but I haven’t really known where they hung out except for that bar Ize on 36th Ave.

So we went home full and happy. And then this afternoon we had lunch at the Ecuadorian joint on 36th Ave., the place where the windows are always steamed up, where $12 bought us two bowls of fish soup, two platters of meat and rice and beans, all-we-could-eat hot salsa, and two sodas. Not to mention kind service and the Discovery Channel dubbed into Spanish.

Then we popped over to the Fisher Landau Center for Art, which I’d read some passing reference to last year and was surprised to see that it’s just a few blocks away from where I live. Usually all that cool art stuff is down in LIC proper. It’s three floors in a big warehouse, with Rosenquist and Rauschenberg and all that jazz, but I liked all the Shirin Neshat photos and a little mechanical sculpture using bird feathers, by Rebecca Horn. The whole first floor was all animal-y. Imagine my chagrin then, when I asked how long the place had been open.

“Oh, since 1991.”

“Whaaa?” (I reel in shock.)

“Well, it was just appointment only until 1993.” (Helpfully, kindly.)

“Huh.” (Still dumbfounded.)

“And we didn’t put up the banner until a few years ago.”

Oh. That explains why I’d never even heard of the place?

And it’s free. It kills me to think how much free art I’ve missed in the eight years I’ve lived here.

So then Peter and I had to kill a little time before meeting a realtor, so we stopped in the Bangladeshi store, where they had whole mace, date syrup, mango leather and lots of frozen fish. The guy at the counter asked, “Was everything all right?” as if we were in a restaurant, and when I was eyeing the mango leather, his cohort handed me a free sample. And then I asked what those round things were behind the counter, and the next thing we knew, we were getting the full betel-nut demo and taste test.

We were discreetly spitting and I was kind of dizzy by the time we met the realtor. The house sucked and cost a whopping $700K, but we quickly put that out of our heads with more shopping, at the kindly Guyanese guy’s store, on 36th Ave. The guy stocks fish sauce, which Peter has been complaining about not being able to get here for years. If Fisher Landau is my missed opportunity, H&V Grocery is his.

Sweet Astoria–so bursting with opportunities for fun and tastiness that it really doesn’t matter if you miss a few.