Lupa, New York City

Birthday Pasta and Big City Magic: Catching Up at Lupa in NYC

There’s something about New York City that makes every moment feel cinematic. Maybe it’s the skyline, maybe it’s the energy, or maybe it’s just the fact that you can get a slice of pizza at 2 a.m. and still be judged for not ordering the garlic knots. Either way, when I decided to spend my birthday in the Big Apple, I knew I was in for something special. What I didn’t expect was how perfect dinner with Tammy and her husband at Lupa would be—the kind of night that makes you laugh too loud, eat too much, and remember why you love your people.

✈️ Touchdown in Manhattan

I landed in New York with birthday adrenaline and a suitcase packed with questionable layering choices. The city greeted me with its usual flair: honking taxis, street performers, and a guy yelling about the end of days while selling churros. Classic.

I spent the day wandering through Central Park, dodging pigeons in Times Square, and pretending I was in a rom-com montage. But the real highlight was yet to come—dinner with Tammy and her husband at Lupa, the cozy Roman trattoria tucked into the heart of Greenwich Village.

🍷 Lupa: Where Pasta Meets Perfection

If you’ve never been to Lupa, imagine stepping into a warm hug made of garlic, wine, and rustic charm. The lighting is soft, the tables are close enough for eavesdropping (not that I did… much), and the menu reads like a love letter to carbs.

Tammy and her husband arrived looking effortlessly chic, like they’d just stepped out of a magazine titled People Who Know How to Dress for Dinner. We hugged, we laughed, and we immediately started ordering like we hadn’t eaten since 2003.

🥖 The Feast Begins

We kicked things off with antipasti that could’ve started a cult following: marinated olives, prosciutto that melted on contact, and a warm bread basket that disappeared faster than my self-control. Tammy’s husband ordered a bottle of red that tasted like it had been aged in the cellar of a Roman poet.

Then came the pasta.

I went with the bucatini all’Amatriciana, which arrived like a saucy miracle. Tammy had the ricotta gnocchi that looked like clouds sent from heaven. Her husband chose the tagliatelle with wild mushrooms and truffle oil, and I briefly considered proposing to his plate.

We passed dishes around like a sacred ritual, each bite followed by a dramatic “Oh my God” and at least one “I could die happy right now.”

😂 The Catch-Up

Between bites, we caught up on everything—work drama, family updates, travel stories, and the time Tammy accidentally joined a yoga class that turned out to be interpretive dance. Her husband shared tales from their recent trip to Italy, which included a Vespa incident and a gelato addiction.

We laughed until our faces hurt. I told them about my birthday adventures, including getting mildly lost in SoHo and buying a hat I absolutely didn’t need. Tammy gave me a birthday card that included a drawing of me riding a cannoli like a cowboy. It’s now framed.

🎂 The Sweet Ending

Dessert was non-negotiable. We ordered the panna cotta, the tartufo, and a birthday candle stuck into a scoop of gelato that made me feel like a very fancy five-year-old. The staff sang a low-key birthday tune, and I made a wish that involved more nights like this and fewer emails.

🌃 Final Thoughts

As we stepped out into the New York night, full and happy, I realized that birthdays aren’t about big gestures or fancy gifts—they’re about connection. About sitting across from people who know your stories, laugh at your jokes, and still show up after all these years.

Dinner at Lupa wasn’t just a meal—it was a memory. One I’ll carry with me long after the last bite of bucatini and the final sip of wine.

Here’s to friendship, pasta, and the kind of birthday that reminds you how lucky you are.

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Let me know if you want to turn this into a travel recap or a keepsake for Tammy and her husband. I’ve got plenty more New York magic and pasta-fueled reflections to share.