If It's Thursday, Forget the Forks On Thursdays at Jeepney, the new Filipino gastropub in the East Village, you eat with your hands. And it's harder, and less intuitive, than you'd think. That's because Thursday is Kamayan night, an East Village spin on a traditional pre-colonial communal feast. Flatware is replaced by fingers, plates by banana leaves, and napkins by hot, damp towels, handed to you at the beginning and end of the meal but never during. But you can't just dig in like a 4-year-old, you have to learn how to do it right. Make a small mound out of sticky rice, the friendly server instructs you, and dip it into the various morsels artfully arranged in the center of the table. Once you do, you're committed - there are no napkins until after the meal, so your rice-covered hands will not be multitasking. Any midmeal texts and Instagram shots will almost certainly have typos. You can choose from the likes of pork braised in beef blood, and spiced and salted crabs fried so crisp you can eat the thinner parts of the shells like saline potato chips. Juicy pork sausages, more sweet than savory, surround the tableau, which is punctuated with tiny bowls filled with dipping sauces - banana ketchup colored red with loads of food dye, prickly coconut vinegar, fragrant Filipino mayonnaise. If you're up for even more of an adventure, you can order the deep-fried ruffle fat (pig intestine) or crispy tripe, both of which benefit from a dunk in the bracing vinegar and need no rice conveyance; your greasy fingers will do just fine. Rooted in premodern tradition, the food itself is delightfully post-modern. The tender pork shoulder is braised in 7Up. Rice Krispies and Filipino purple yam rub shoulders in the halo-halo parfait for dessert (along with candied fruit, sweetened condensed milk and red beans). Choose your dinner partners carefully. By dessert, you'll have shared more than just food with the people you came with; you won't miss sharing it on Twitter at all. Jeepney, 201 First Ave, 212-533-4121