Is that a sports thing? I might be mixing sports things with Catholic things. Neither one of which am I fully qualified to discuss.
Today I left my office like a little sherpa, all my work effluvia in my bag. Monday morning the packers come. Tuesday morning the movers come. We fly out from Newark Tuesday night to start our new life as Tennesseans. This weekend we will figure out how to pack for the three of us for two months, but only with what we can carry on the plane. At least our temporary apartment has a washer and dryer.
Since we are beyond maxed out (Did I mention that I have a big work project due Monday?) we decided to have a goodbye open house from noon to seven on Saturday. (I think I made it too long, but that ship has sailed.) So far we have 35 acceptances on our Evite. For drinks we will have the standard sodas, waters, mimosas, etc and then I’m going to make chelada, the recipe for which I got from Ask Moxie. For snacks I’m making finger sandwiches. Lox (regular and Scottish) and cream cheese for the grownups (and discerning kids) and almond butter and jam for the kiddies. We’ll also grab some crunchy, chip-type food and a bunch of bakery cookies. Damon feels a better person would cook some “actual food” for our guests. I feel he should have married a better person, then.
Up until this afternoon, I worked in the Chelsea Market. It’s a hip, happening place and is often packed with tourists. Food Network is based there, and Kitchen Stadium (and other studios can be found on the 6th floor.) It was originally a giant bakery, and that legacy lives on. Fat Witch is based there, and sells discount witches from 4-6 every day. There are several other bakeries selling seriously fanciful goodies. For the high end eater, Morimoto and Buddakan are also in the building. You can also find a fantastic salad bar in the Manhattan Fruit Exchange — a small island of affordable lunch in a painfully expensive building. You can also get your knives sharpened and buy imports from Marrakesh. I can’t forget The Lobster Place, which has the best seafood — both to take home and cook and to eat at their little counter. I have had several lovely sushi or bisque lunches there.
Best for last, though: The Green Table. It’s tiny, about five tables, and it serves locally-sourced fresh food on a seasonal menu. They have one table that sits outside the restaurant, right by the Market’s indoor waterfall. It was a perfect spot to take visiting friends and their kids. It’s one of the few places you can get what I consider to be a NY dining experience and still not worry about it if your kids run around like monkeys. You’re inside the building, but outside the restaurant. Perfect.
But you know what I won’t miss? Ninth Street Espresso. Because, with a straight face I am sure, someone who runs that place hung a sign that reads:
“As artisans, we have spent much time and energy refining our culinary craft. We take great pride in offering you our menu, which consists of a core group of drinks that we believe showcase the natural beauty of coffee.
It is our policy not to deviate from those recipes or to compromise the integrity of our craft, the craft of our roasters, or the craft of the farmers the world over whose labor we are entrusted to present.”
So, I guess if you want a little extra milk you can suck it. Every time I walk past that sign I walk to punch a barista in the face. And I don’t even have a horse in this race, I’ve never had a cup of coffee.
jaysaint 