the other day
Saturday May 5th was spent eating pizza at Joe's, perusing the wares of street vendors in the Village and Soho, properly shopping at Yellow Rat Bastard and Daffy's. The weather was flawless again and strolling only helped work up an appetite for the evening's big event: dinner at Babbo.
We were seated in the upper dining room with its cream walls and Italian sayings with their translations framed and hung about the room. A skylight allowed the soft, setting sun to shine in. My friend ordered a gin and tonic, I had fresh squeezed orange juice. We started with a Babbo-cured salumi plate for him and a burrata mozzarella with sauteed ramps for me. Then we split spaghettini with lobster followed by lamb for my friend and beef cheek ravioli for me. The lamb was served with a yogurt sauce, pickled onions (I think they were onions) and mint leaves. The beef cheek ravioli was finished with brown butter, squab liver, black truffles, parsley and pecorino. All of it, every shiny morsel...was fantastic. To end the meal, we finished with a blueberry and coconut torta for the gentleman and for the lady (me, you jerks) a warm pineapple cake.
After dinner, we sat on a bench in Washington Square Park as my friend made phone calls and I peeled price tags off new shoes. We headed to his car which was parked behind a blue Impala with tinted windows. Not ten minutes after sitting and making more calls did we see the Impala start a-bouncin' and a-shakin'. People were getting BUSY. FOR ALMOST HALF AN HOUR!!! We decided to take a walk and strolled the neighborhood. I stopped in on a Cosi and purchased a chocolate chocolate chip muffin. Upon returning to our car, the Impala was gone but this remained:
Collectively now..."EWWWWW!"
My friend and I went to Park, a bar near the meatpacking district. It is an enormous construction with many rooms with high ceilings and lots of foliage. Pretty. Pretty packed with people on the prowl. I never go to places like that as a participant. I am mainly an observer of the vespertine amusements favored by the young and stylish. I'm just not cool.
The evening ended around 1am when my friend and I hit the road back to Long Island. I sighed as I told him for the umpteenth time that it had been the best trip ever. I'm glad he didn't drive us into a ditch from sheer annoyance. But if he had, I would have been just fine with it. I had three days of complete and utter jubilation. And the strangest thing is that I did not feel sad to leave it behind and return to our burning city. Every experience has its time and this one's was simply perfect.
We were seated in the upper dining room with its cream walls and Italian sayings with their translations framed and hung about the room. A skylight allowed the soft, setting sun to shine in. My friend ordered a gin and tonic, I had fresh squeezed orange juice. We started with a Babbo-cured salumi plate for him and a burrata mozzarella with sauteed ramps for me. Then we split spaghettini with lobster followed by lamb for my friend and beef cheek ravioli for me. The lamb was served with a yogurt sauce, pickled onions (I think they were onions) and mint leaves. The beef cheek ravioli was finished with brown butter, squab liver, black truffles, parsley and pecorino. All of it, every shiny morsel...was fantastic. To end the meal, we finished with a blueberry and coconut torta for the gentleman and for the lady (me, you jerks) a warm pineapple cake.
After dinner, we sat on a bench in Washington Square Park as my friend made phone calls and I peeled price tags off new shoes. We headed to his car which was parked behind a blue Impala with tinted windows. Not ten minutes after sitting and making more calls did we see the Impala start a-bouncin' and a-shakin'. People were getting BUSY. FOR ALMOST HALF AN HOUR!!! We decided to take a walk and strolled the neighborhood. I stopped in on a Cosi and purchased a chocolate chocolate chip muffin. Upon returning to our car, the Impala was gone but this remained:
Collectively now..."EWWWWW!"
My friend and I went to Park, a bar near the meatpacking district. It is an enormous construction with many rooms with high ceilings and lots of foliage. Pretty. Pretty packed with people on the prowl. I never go to places like that as a participant. I am mainly an observer of the vespertine amusements favored by the young and stylish. I'm just not cool.
The evening ended around 1am when my friend and I hit the road back to Long Island. I sighed as I told him for the umpteenth time that it had been the best trip ever. I'm glad he didn't drive us into a ditch from sheer annoyance. But if he had, I would have been just fine with it. I had three days of complete and utter jubilation. And the strangest thing is that I did not feel sad to leave it behind and return to our burning city. Every experience has its time and this one's was simply perfect.
posted by Katie at 2:23 PM
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