[Pink Pig Time Machine by Wilfrid: July 30, 2012]
So there I was in London, strolling one morning through Kensington Gardens, my favorite London park, on my way to the Serpentine Gallery. The occasion, an exhibition of Gilbert and George's "Dirty Words" pictures, a fabulous explosion of red and black aggression.
Then lunch, of course.
Then a mad dash to the airport for the afternoon flight back to JFK. Quite a busy day.
My first dining destination back home in New York was dB Bistro Moderne. I'd already visited for the famous foie-gras-truffle-burger, but this was the occasion for a full meal. Bread came with olive and almond tapenade. Then an unusual appetizer, crayfish in a duck gelée in a martini glass, with a moat of watercress purée, and summer truffles. A Trimbach riesling for these first rounds,
I also tried the guinea-hen and foie terrine, accompanied by pickled vegetables. Then suckling pig. Apparently I hated it, writing at the time "...the worst version I've eaten. Instead of being crispy, the skin was like an elastic band. The meat was dry. Only a small slice of belly was enjoyable."
Then I ordered some cheese from the list, and when they were out of those and offered me some less interesting specimens, I gave up. No cheese. An anti-climax. Nothing to go with the last of the Crozes-Hermitage.
The week concluded happily though, with performances by the Tom Tom Club and the B-52s at Central Park's Summerstage.