I wonder how many miles I have walked so far? Many, many, many.
Susanna and I spent the morning being crafty-- literally. We did some decoupage. It is amazing what can be done with old magazines and ModPodge. Rick is a talented artist. His paintings are here and there around the house. This is his latest. Classic Brooklyn:
In the afternoon, I made my second solo trip on the Subway to 34th. The plan: dinner in Soho. I waited for Aidan in the lobby and The Pennsylvania Hotel and read a book. I eavesdropped on a greasy pair of Latino men trying to lasso one another into a business deal. "I don't mess around. I am just telling you like it is. If some other guy offers my 400 thousand, I will have to accept." This is not my world!
We walked hand in hand from 34th to 4th. We made a pit-stop at Whole Foods, because we are food nerds and, while being unmoved my Hollywood stars, are deeply moved by Top Chefs who might have run down these isles for a Quickfire.
We veered East to SOHO and found ourselves wandering down some really neat streets, densely packed with shops and overhanging awnings. Our journey ended at The Mercer Kitchen. We had a few restaurants in mind, but settled on the first one we bumped into. It was a memorable experience in more ways then one. First off, the food did not disappoint: tuna rolls, lobster with roasted garlic and new potatoes, and braised short ribs that fell of the bone. The things is, in New York, the good places get stuffed with crazy people. Two of whom sat just across the way. He was about 50, with a severe face and a sleek, bare head. She was platinum blond, with electric blue thigh-high sicks and no skirt to be seen, and certainly no older that 20. They were devouring one another. The man saw me staring and I could feel the challenge from across the room. What are you going to do about it? And for the next 30 minutes, if I looked up from talking with Aidan, he was glaring at me with a smirk. Shudder. I was so relied when they left.
Susanna and I spent the morning being crafty-- literally. We did some decoupage. It is amazing what can be done with old magazines and ModPodge. Rick is a talented artist. His paintings are here and there around the house. This is his latest. Classic Brooklyn:
In the afternoon, I made my second solo trip on the Subway to 34th. The plan: dinner in Soho. I waited for Aidan in the lobby and The Pennsylvania Hotel and read a book. I eavesdropped on a greasy pair of Latino men trying to lasso one another into a business deal. "I don't mess around. I am just telling you like it is. If some other guy offers my 400 thousand, I will have to accept." This is not my world!
We walked hand in hand from 34th to 4th. We made a pit-stop at Whole Foods, because we are food nerds and, while being unmoved my Hollywood stars, are deeply moved by Top Chefs who might have run down these isles for a Quickfire.
We veered East to SOHO and found ourselves wandering down some really neat streets, densely packed with shops and overhanging awnings. Our journey ended at The Mercer Kitchen. We had a few restaurants in mind, but settled on the first one we bumped into. It was a memorable experience in more ways then one. First off, the food did not disappoint: tuna rolls, lobster with roasted garlic and new potatoes, and braised short ribs that fell of the bone. The things is, in New York, the good places get stuffed with crazy people. Two of whom sat just across the way. He was about 50, with a severe face and a sleek, bare head. She was platinum blond, with electric blue thigh-high sicks and no skirt to be seen, and certainly no older that 20. They were devouring one another. The man saw me staring and I could feel the challenge from across the room. What are you going to do about it? And for the next 30 minutes, if I looked up from talking with Aidan, he was glaring at me with a smirk. Shudder. I was so relied when they left.
Next came the party to our right. One script-writer, we gathered, and three actresses who, oddly enough, looked more or less alike. The extant of the conversation was this: Man shares his script idea, girls gush and gush and gush and gush using only three word: Fantastic! Fabulous! And Phenomenal!
I grew sad, when, after having been exposed to death-stares and too many F-words, I wandered down to use the washrooms in the bar area and found the dinner experience of my life waiting. Turns out the bar area was gorgeous! Dark and glittery and cozy. Sigh. Aidan reminded me that the Mercer Bar was completely booked up. We wouldn't have been able to eat there anyways. But it was so pretty! (Apparently a huge famous-person hangout.)
We stopped off for desert much closer to home at The Chocolate Room. Rick and Susanna had recommended it, and we'd walked ourselves into a bit of extra tummy-space. Very cozy. Like every shop around, exposed brick and high ceilings. We sat at the bar and watched the kitchen do it's thing. One girl clearly ran the show. This lady worked with zeal. She stuck her tongue out when she whipped cream and gritted her teeth when cutting cake, and scooped ice cream like it was nobody's business. And she never stood still for a second. She had a curious pair of tattoos on her upper arms. A figure stretching his arms upwards to a stand of trees. and a bird flying upward. It made me think of Jesus' baptism, but am sure it is likely an Aboriginal/ Mother Earth thing.
Aidan ordered a Chocolate Stout Float made from Brooklyn Brewery’s Black Chocolate Stout and vanilla ice cream. I ordered more traditionally, (hey, don't mess with chocolate!): Brownie Sunday: The essence of homemade… house brownies warmed to order, topped with and a fresh cherry.
The experience could have been marred by the lone cockroach that crept up the painting by our seats. But Aidan quietly crushed it out of existence with his napkin, and we just pretended we hadn't seen a thing. I silently tried to recall, though, if I have felt a crunch while eating my Sunday. Good thing we kept quiet. Minutes later I smashed one of their glasses. It was easier to walk away than it would have been if we had just told them they might have a roach problem.
Aidan ordered a Chocolate Stout Float made from Brooklyn Brewery’s Black Chocolate Stout and vanilla ice cream. I ordered more traditionally, (hey, don't mess with chocolate!): Brownie Sunday: The essence of homemade… house brownies warmed to order, topped with and a fresh cherry.
The experience could have been marred by the lone cockroach that crept up the painting by our seats. But Aidan quietly crushed it out of existence with his napkin, and we just pretended we hadn't seen a thing. I silently tried to recall, though, if I have felt a crunch while eating my Sunday. Good thing we kept quiet. Minutes later I smashed one of their glasses. It was easier to walk away than it would have been if we had just told them they might have a roach problem.
