7.19.2004
big apple mischief
This weekend was quite an interesting excursion (incursion?) into New York City, beginning with a disastrous outing by the New York Mets against the Philadelphia cream-cheeses. This was not a case of the Phillies winning the ballgame as much as it was the Mets bowing down and handing them the game on a beautiful platter. The Mets made enough mistakes and blown opportunities or plays to fill the entire SportsCenter Not Top Ten list in that one single game. On the subway, the Mets poster advertisement is “The New York Mets: Catch The Excitement!” I’d like to amend that.
The New York Mets: Catch The Baseball! That said, I was happy not to be watching the Yankees.
This was my first live game of the season, and the first time I’ve been to a live game in a stadium other than Fenway Park. I must say that Shea is an extraordinarily boring ballpark, but not nearly as boring as Busch Stadium, which I’ve toured but in which have not seen a game.
Went and got some Kati Rolls in the West Village: tasty, portable, but not very fast. The gentleman behind the counter was moving excruciatingly slowly. If I had not been so hungry and if the Kati Rolls had not been so delicious, I might have grown impatient.
Afterward, Ray and I saw a fantastic production of The Merry Wives of Windsor by the Prospect Theater Company in Central Park. Not the big Shakespeare in Central Park, this was a good deal smaller, much more intimate, and brutally funny. Adding to the atmosphere were a good number of peripheral distractions, like a gondolier paddling by and singing, various inept boaters in the lagoon (including a couple that beached themselves and got stuck while watching the show), a gentleman who traversed the underside of the bridge as if on a set of monkey-bars, two ridiculously attired rollerbladers speaking loudly in French waddling their way through the crowd, and a woman with horrid hair dressed in what could only have been a bra and boxer shorts walking her dog. As reported before, my friend Micah was playing tuba – quite a production: Shakespeare for the people, so to speak. If you can, go: it’s a great show.
Had dinner at a nice place: Hudson Corner Café. Delightful; completely unpretentious. We both had the Prix Fixe dinner; Ray had bamboo steamed dumplings, pork tenderloin, and apple brown betty. The dumpling dipping sauces brought back memories of my grandmother’s cooking: I miss my grandma… The pork was delicately flavored with honey and fresh herbs, served on a mash of sweet potatoes (a bit too much butter here) and sautéed vegetables with slivers of sun-dried tomato. The brown betty was very dense and cinnamony. Well chosen, Ray.
As for my meal, I started with the Caesar salad (invented, as discussed in Latin class last year, in Tijuana), which was a bit weak but very fresh. I also had a sesame-encrusted salmon, which was very pedestrian, but which was served over some delightfully plain steamed vegetables (squash, etc.) in butter sauce and a truly inspired and very different soba noodle alfredo. Honestly, this was new, but extremely good. My tiramisu was excellent. Their wine offerings were, unfortunately, decidedly subpar: the Chardonnay was decent (a bit too much acid), and the Sauvignon Blanc was awful, tasting of harsh alcohol and menthol (I’m not kidding). Ray tried the Chianti, which was far too strong to have been a normal Chianti. This was Welch’s grape juice spiked with vodka or something. Ew.
Met up with my friend Igor, who brought us to Marie’s Crisis; a piano bar where the entire clientele spends the night singing Broadway showtunes. This was at once both hilarious and dreadfully frightening. I think we got through all of Annie, Sound of Music, Chicago, Grease, Oklahoma, and West Side Story. Met a 42 year old trained opera singer out for her birthday – her parents have a horrid sense of humor. Born on Bastille Day, her name is Antoinette. Hee…
Went out for some late Mexican food and stuffed myself to the point of nausea. Getting to Ray’s building, we noticed another group behind us. I looked back, and being tired, slightly tipsy, and still nauseous, it took me way too long to realize that, at 2:45, the group behind us included Russell, my college roommate. Talk about your coincidences. Ray, Russell and I lost it and were on the ground howling with laughter, Russell’s friends, Tom and Aparna, remained upright. I had known that Russell was going to be in NYC this weekend, but I had neglected to call him to try to meet up. Fate has a funny way of going about.
Brunch this morning was a delightful ham, cheese, and herb omelette with vegetables on the side, along with pomme frittes and a delicious fresh mayonnaise. Life is too short to eat poorly. One of the trainers at my gym showed me what he eats for lunch every day: two cups of plain white rice, three steamed chicken breasts with no added flavorings, and steamed broccoli. He said, and I quote, “I hate eating this, it’s miserable food. I don’t eat for pleasure, I eat for fuel.” He’ll live longer than I will, but I’ll have eaten well and enjoyed life.
The New York Mets: Catch The Baseball! That said, I was happy not to be watching the Yankees.
This was my first live game of the season, and the first time I’ve been to a live game in a stadium other than Fenway Park. I must say that Shea is an extraordinarily boring ballpark, but not nearly as boring as Busch Stadium, which I’ve toured but in which have not seen a game.
Went and got some Kati Rolls in the West Village: tasty, portable, but not very fast. The gentleman behind the counter was moving excruciatingly slowly. If I had not been so hungry and if the Kati Rolls had not been so delicious, I might have grown impatient.
Afterward, Ray and I saw a fantastic production of The Merry Wives of Windsor by the Prospect Theater Company in Central Park. Not the big Shakespeare in Central Park, this was a good deal smaller, much more intimate, and brutally funny. Adding to the atmosphere were a good number of peripheral distractions, like a gondolier paddling by and singing, various inept boaters in the lagoon (including a couple that beached themselves and got stuck while watching the show), a gentleman who traversed the underside of the bridge as if on a set of monkey-bars, two ridiculously attired rollerbladers speaking loudly in French waddling their way through the crowd, and a woman with horrid hair dressed in what could only have been a bra and boxer shorts walking her dog. As reported before, my friend Micah was playing tuba – quite a production: Shakespeare for the people, so to speak. If you can, go: it’s a great show.
Had dinner at a nice place: Hudson Corner Café. Delightful; completely unpretentious. We both had the Prix Fixe dinner; Ray had bamboo steamed dumplings, pork tenderloin, and apple brown betty. The dumpling dipping sauces brought back memories of my grandmother’s cooking: I miss my grandma… The pork was delicately flavored with honey and fresh herbs, served on a mash of sweet potatoes (a bit too much butter here) and sautéed vegetables with slivers of sun-dried tomato. The brown betty was very dense and cinnamony. Well chosen, Ray.
As for my meal, I started with the Caesar salad (invented, as discussed in Latin class last year, in Tijuana), which was a bit weak but very fresh. I also had a sesame-encrusted salmon, which was very pedestrian, but which was served over some delightfully plain steamed vegetables (squash, etc.) in butter sauce and a truly inspired and very different soba noodle alfredo. Honestly, this was new, but extremely good. My tiramisu was excellent. Their wine offerings were, unfortunately, decidedly subpar: the Chardonnay was decent (a bit too much acid), and the Sauvignon Blanc was awful, tasting of harsh alcohol and menthol (I’m not kidding). Ray tried the Chianti, which was far too strong to have been a normal Chianti. This was Welch’s grape juice spiked with vodka or something. Ew.
Met up with my friend Igor, who brought us to Marie’s Crisis; a piano bar where the entire clientele spends the night singing Broadway showtunes. This was at once both hilarious and dreadfully frightening. I think we got through all of Annie, Sound of Music, Chicago, Grease, Oklahoma, and West Side Story. Met a 42 year old trained opera singer out for her birthday – her parents have a horrid sense of humor. Born on Bastille Day, her name is Antoinette. Hee…
Went out for some late Mexican food and stuffed myself to the point of nausea. Getting to Ray’s building, we noticed another group behind us. I looked back, and being tired, slightly tipsy, and still nauseous, it took me way too long to realize that, at 2:45, the group behind us included Russell, my college roommate. Talk about your coincidences. Ray, Russell and I lost it and were on the ground howling with laughter, Russell’s friends, Tom and Aparna, remained upright. I had known that Russell was going to be in NYC this weekend, but I had neglected to call him to try to meet up. Fate has a funny way of going about.
Brunch this morning was a delightful ham, cheese, and herb omelette with vegetables on the side, along with pomme frittes and a delicious fresh mayonnaise. Life is too short to eat poorly. One of the trainers at my gym showed me what he eats for lunch every day: two cups of plain white rice, three steamed chicken breasts with no added flavorings, and steamed broccoli. He said, and I quote, “I hate eating this, it’s miserable food. I don’t eat for pleasure, I eat for fuel.” He’ll live longer than I will, but I’ll have eaten well and enjoyed life.
