Tia Pol

We forgot to bring our camera to this tiny Spanish tapas place in Chelsea. Too bad, since we would have loved to capture the perfectly formed deviled eggs ("huevos rellenos"), stuffed with a thick swirl the color of carrots but tasting, faintly, of mustard; the braised short rib special, seared and served over white and yellow and beige beans; textured lamb meatballs, all browns and ecrus; small slices of fried potatoes covered with a tangerine-colored aioli sprinkled with maroon chile powder; and the monochromatically pale but delicious "tortilla espanola," a potato omelet. The two owners famously found the executive chef and her husband, the sous chef, via Craigslist. We sat toward the back of the narrow space, Radiohead playing softly from the speakers at our feet and candlelight flickering against concrete and brick walls. Our only complaint? The seating: bar stools don't encourage the kind of lingering, "try this, then try that" the food deserves.