[Pink Pig Time Machine by Wilfrid: July 6, 2009]
I had an invitation from friends to spend the holiday with them during a spell of muggy, intensely hot weather ten years ago.
The week started with me cooking a long dinner at home for other friends. I made rabbit cakes - rissoles, I suppose - with a mustard sauce and a small portion of tripe à la mode de Caen, just as a palate teaser. I followed these with an attempt to rip off Daniel Boulud: sea bass in a red wine sauce, the fish more or less carefully dressed in potato slices. Then a daube - oh, ideal for the summer - with mashed potatoes and salad. The 1996 Aloxe-Corton "Les Moutottes" was hopefully not wasted on the guests.
Muggy and grey, the diary says, but at least not pouring rain as in 2009. I finally made it out to dinner late that week, and a disaster it was too. For once, the restaurant cannot be blamed. It was City Crab Co., that cheery casual stalwart on Park Avenue. I ordered oysters and lobster, but became uncomfortably ill around the time the food arrived. Whatever had poisoned me, it wasn't this place. Unfortunately, and quite unfairly, I've henceforth associated the restaurant with the nausea, and haven't been back.
On the 4th, I took an aperitif at one of the bars overlooking Grand Central station, then took a train upstate. The afternoon was spent lazing in the heavy weather while my hosts prepared gazpacho and salmon and ice cream.
A brief respite, because the next morning I was London-bound again.
