My Big Fat Fake Birthday

I’m a September baby, but you wouldn’t know it since I had my birthday party this past weekend. It all began when four of my august friends (see what I did there?) banded together to plan a group celebration at Le Lupanar. “It’ll be fun,” they gushed to each other. “We can take over the place and dance all night and…” “Ok-ok-ok, I’m in!!” I sighed like they had been begging me to join for ages (simply ages, dah-ling). Four pairs of eyes swiveled toward me in surprise and they struggled for a polite way to ask 1. who I was and 2. when my birthday was. I switched tactics. “Something something falls on Labor Day, and everybody’s always away that weekend, blah blah pity on me,” I said intelligently. They patted me on the head and told me I could be part of the August birthday party as a pity fifth. Score!

On the day of the party, my good friend Ctina treated me to an early birthday dinner at db townhouse because she knew how much I loved dining there during Restaurant Week. I revisited the Sea Scallops Benedict for the starter, I just had to. The salt-water tang of the scallops melded with the sharper savoriness of thin slices of chorizo sausage, which all got mellowed out by poached quail eggs laying on top. I broke their yolks with my fork and watched deep yellow rivulets slide along the smooth round surface of each scallop, pause at the edge, and then creep over and run thickly down its sides to pool upon the plate. An airy lobster foam completed the dish and melted like a dream in my mouth. I started thinking about how the foam was so light and the quail egg yolk so thick, that they were opposites, and I was simultaneously tasting the air and the earth. Or maybe that was just the wine talking! For my entree, I had seared medium rare tuna on a bed of couscous and tiny grasslike mushrooms. The waitress solemnly poured warm broth over the dish, bathing me and Ctina in a fragrant cloud of lemongrass and beets, light and vegetable sweet. When we somehow found room to attempt dessert, we sampled an Orange Blossom Panna Cotta (heavenly) and a Strawberry Shortcake Sundae (your childhood memories, one-upped by a master chef). True caffeine junkies that we were, we had several cups of coffee before heading out to the birthday party I’d muscled my way into.

Le Lupanar was amazingly fun! I worked for 5-1/2 years in book publishing before Black Wednesday hit, and the night was full of reunions with friends from all of the major houses. It was also a chance to mash all my groups together so that socializing could be easier (I love y’all but I’m lazy, yo). Alas, friendships were not to be forged since, as always, the night devolved into a series of dance-offs. Well. Not dance-offs in the sense that anyone actually knew how to dance. Hence the “off” part of that statement. There we were, publishing nerds in cocktail dresses or button-up shirts and khaki cargo shorts, pretending we knew how to crump. It was quite a sight. Meanwhile, at the bar beyond the dance floor battleground, one friend found a way around my No Shots policy by buying me many gin martinis (straight up with a twist, and I would prefer stirred not shaken, but trying telling that to an intimidating Manhattan bartender). Next time, I may just accept the shots. It would be less alcohol. In my gin-soaked haze, another friend appeared and presented me with a $2 bill upon which he penned a personalized haiku. Fitting, since we’re in the same writing group. Hours of “dancing” later (it feels more honest to include those quote marks), the best present of all arrived in the form of a car ride home. Whoo!

Gosh I wonder what’ll happen in two weeks when it actually is my birthday?

Food, Glorious Food!

Big ups to Restaurant Week in New York City and my happy tummy, last week was a great one! First off, the fire in my office building last Monday made the whole place smell pleasantly of crackling campfire wood. Despite my pleas to stay put so I could flirt with the FDNY (something along the lines of “But you’re so hot, how could you possibly put OUT a fire?”), we evacuated and had a team lunch at Dos Caminos, where I calmed my nerves with a watermelon margarita and a platter of chicken on fragrant cilantro rice. Dessert was some genius riff on mint chocolate chip called the Grasshopper (god help me, I can only say that in a Mr. Miyagi voice in my head) from Emack & Bolio’s.

Despite the full day (yup, that there’s a pun), I found room for dinner at David Burke Townhouse with my fellow Ambassadorette. Before we were even led to our table, a bartender dressed like a member of some old-school barbershop quartet slid a carved purple quartz vessel full of twisted and spicy cheese sticks within reaching distance and followed that up with dainty little dishes of ricotta and herb spring rolls in a warm honey sauce. Fortified with frosty cocktails made alternately of rose water and pomegranate juice, we were ready to just live at the bar when the hostess popped up behind us and announced our table was ready. For our first course, we selected the Sea Scallops Benedict, which consisted of two large, soft scallops draped in poached quail eggs and lobster foam, all resting atop a thin layer of chorizo, and the Pretzel Crusted Crabcake, which was shaped like a delicious treasure box with a big, beautiful shrimp on top as an ornament. Somehow, the pretzels were incredibly easy to cut without having to mash the crabcake, but crunchy to the last bite. Our main courses had a lot to live up to, but I’m happy to report that they did (even the next day when we had leftovers for lunch). We had Roasted and Crispy Seawater Soaked Organic Chicken (let he who doubts the power of words read that last bit and not drool) and a Pan Fried Branzino. The name says it all for the chicken and yes, oh god yes, it definitely lived up to its billing. Ah, but the branzino! It was one perfect elongated rectangle of crispy silver-gold-brown skin which broke apart easily underneath my fork into moist soft flakes of white fish. It had the texture of al dente pasta where it resisted a little as I bit in but then, suddenly, just gave in and glided piece by tender piece along my tongue as if it were swimming. I’m not quite sure what happened outside of the universe between me and my plate, but I think my friend had a silent communion with her dish as well. After all that, I would normally forget to talk about dessert. But David Burke has the kind of whimsical approach to sweets that can win even a grizzled old savory-tooth like me over. We ended the meal with a Cheesecake Lollipop tree with branches of raspberry white chocolate and ganache served with bubblegum whipped cream, a miniature ferris wheel of Drunken Donuts, which were donut holes covered in cinnamon sugar served with vials of fruit, chocolate and caramel filling which could be plunged into the donuts, and chocolate covered strawberries for good measure. We cried a little from the beauty of it all. A little from the pain of eating so much, but mostly, from the beauty of it all.

Still with me? Good. Cuz that was just Monday. Tuesday rolled around (another pun, yes, I make of myself when I eat a lot. I’m my own sorority.) with plans to meet a friend at the Clover Club, that lovely bastion of classic cocktails and spirits. We sipped single malt scotches and ryes poured over iceberg cubes in highball glasses and scoffed gently at the world until it was time to sup (yeah, old timey lingo, that’s what ‘sup!) at Buttermilk Channel. First course was a bottle of light, fragrant red which smelled like roses at our table. The waitress saw us enjoying the wine a little too much and quickly brought over a small bowl of complimentary popovers which were light and fluffy and dunked in a shallow pool of warm, sticky honey. Our entrees came out soon after, linguini coated in a creamy, nutty brown butter sauce with mushrooms and the bright pop of corn, and medium rare skirt steak sliced to show off the deep glistening pink of its meat. Dessert was more wine and a welcome stroll in the balmy summer night (or should I say waddle?).

Thursday gave the ladies of Quirky a chance to have lunch together at Lure. Taking my cue from the porthole windows and shipshape surroundings (groan!), I fed my seafood cravings by ordering a Salmon Tartare starter and Sushi Combo entree, and then ended with a summery lemon tart served on top of blueberries. Everything was light and refreshing, which was what I needed at the end of such an epic eating week. Viva la belly!!