Although we are currently experiencing something of a lull in the weather, the snow, endless snow, great drifts of it blackening on the sidewalks, slicking the pavements, filling the cross-walks with sloppy black puddles, has been pulling on peoples’ spirits.
There are many excellent reasons to go to Nom Wah Tea Parlor. Off the top of my head? Celebrating Chinese New year with Sara and Mike, for example. Continue reading
Last year my mother in law captured my imagination by describing the Chinese New Year of the Snake that we were entering, as a year of twists and turns, some for good, and some for bad. Though she is no more Chinese than I am, it turns out, she felt that if such a thing as a new year could be defined, the Luna calendar would be a more logical way to do it, and she was prepared to go with that.
It turns out, that pretty much none of my friends has any interest in the Superbowl whatsoever, outside the context of commercials, guacamole and chocolate krispie cakes shaped into footballs. Even Carrie, who understands the rules, lost interest when her team ignominiously lost a few weeks ago. Sure, Times Square is filled with Football Fun Times and a huge plastic slide, but mostly, well, meh. Continue reading
Salvation Taco is where you go to eat amazing lamb, in a bar that reminds you of the common room at college – all mismatched furniture, paper lanterns, ping pong tables and lanky dudes wearing backpacks. This latter, accounted for by the fact that you are in the lobby of the Pod Hotel.
The first time I went to Clearwater, on a grim November evening with lashing rain and wind whipping in off the Hudson, it took me a full few minutes find the entrance. Turns out, it’s “down the side, not through the door – that’s an apartment – through the gate into a deserted courtyard, and up the steps.†That is the actual text message I sent to Jon, who arrived, damply, a few minutes later.
A recent convert to Quinoa, a variation on this dish has become my late night back from rehearsal staple dinner. It’s the kind of food that’s simple to assemble, still feels like a proper dinner, and conveys the impression of health.
Everyone loves Barbuto, Jonathan Waxman’s go-to roast chicken joint, now celebrating ten years right on the edge of the Meatpacking district, in an old Rolls Royce garage. It’s what people call a Laid Back Bistro, which means that scrubbed wooden tables and cafe chairs adorn the bright, sparse room, the menu tends towards the aggressively seasonal with something new everyday, and pretty much everything is less than $20, though, if you wanted to, you could pay $300 for a bottle of wine.
The perfect end to a semi snow day – Storm Hercules no less – we settled into one of El Toro Blanco’s cozy booths. Extreme weather and El Toro are connected in my mind – I had reservations at the then week-old restaurant the night hurricane Sandy left it in the dark, future uncertain. And here we are now– packed house despite a foot of snow – not entirely appropriately dressed in monster boots – surrounded by blond women in cashmere sweaters sharing tamales.
