In New York for a brief visit, my wife and I wanted to celebrate our
19th wedding anniversary with a special dinner. After a beautiful day
walking around the city, we decided to find a restaurant near where we
were staying at 70th and Amsterdam. For our anniversary dinner, we
wanted a restaurant where we could talk and hold hands. And we wanted a
meal prepared by a chef who cared about making interesting food, but we
didn't want to spend a fortune.
The New York Times said a new restaurant was opening nearby that
sounded interesting, so we called. On the phone the maitre d' described
the menu at Bar Bao as a "modern take on Vietnamese food." The restaurant was opening that
night and luckily a table was available.
When we arrived we were greeted warmly. That friendliness continued
throughout the evening. Our waiter, Matt, accommodating both Michelle's
desire to be meat free and my own unrestricted eating, suggested the
Vermicelli Noodles and he would bring the pork belly on the side.
Rounding out the meal, we decided on the Vegetable Summer Rolls,
Sizzling Cuttlefish, Bean Curd Glazed Black Cod, and Asian Eggplant.
Love
Love
Small Talk
I have yet to go on a date in New York without breaking into a mental sweat. When scouting for potential mates, I have learned pretentious is better than shallow, irritatingly intelligent better than vapid. But every time I find myself two blocks away from any appointed date destination, panic ensues.
I literally go through the syllabi of every course I can remember from NYU and every legitimate news article I have come across in recent memory. A friend of mine once told me she discovered the best conversation starters from a semester seminar she took called 'The Darwinian Revolution.' To this day, I regret not enrolling in that class. I could be married by now.
Recently, I went on a second date at Casa Mono in Gramercy Park with a screenwriter. As we sat at the crowded bar, reviewing the tapas menu, all I could think of was the impending birth of the "Brangelina" twins.
Autumn Awakening
I remember it like it was yesterday – laying in bed, completely entranced in the fiery excitement of it all. It was nothing I had ever experienced. My senses were heightened, an obsession had begun.
I was experiencing my first real autumn.
Growing up in New Orleans, fall was something that just … happened. The days went from excessively hot, to a little less hot, to bearably warm with the occasional jolt of cold (Cold, of course, being temperatures in the 50s. Brrrr). The leaves bypassed that whole color-change thing everyone always talks about. It was green to dead and that was that.
That is, until I began my freshman year in Maryland at Goucher College. As I plucked away at my snooze button, cursing the existence of a 9:30 am class, I rolled over and froze. There they were – red, orange, yellow and every combination between the three.
Once I was able to tear myself away from the window, I sprinted down the hall. “Have you seen them? They’re beautiful!”
For Better or for Worse... But Never for Lunch!
An age-old motto employed by wise women everywhere when their 60-something husbands return from the work wars to create projects from their home office.
My best friend's grandmother used that ironclad rule for the whole of her fifty-year marriage. Most especially after her adored husband retired from the illustrious law firm that bore his name, took to writing legal thrillers in the den and padding around her kitchen five times a day.
"My darling, let me miss you," she'd purr, as he asked yet again what they were having for lunch." I want to see you at the beginning and end of my day and all weekend long. To renew our otherness and share the excitement of two separate lives made one."
"But I'm hungry, " he said, yanking last night's tuna casserole out of the fridge, "And I don't want to eat alone."
"Then my darling," she implored lovingly, "go out to your club or a cafe or a friends home -- ANYWHERE but here, so that we can keep our love alive!"
A Tale of Two Betties
Bettie One sang like a bird and dressed like a pirate and sent my
libido into overdrive. She was an intoxicating beauty with a multitude
of talent. But she didn’t have a talent for food presentation.
One dinner in particular stands out. Maybe “stands out” is the wrong way to put it. “Haunts me” is more like it.
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