[Pink Pig Time Machine by Wilfrid: September 1, 2014]
I was marking time at the end of August, ten years ago, preparing for a trip to Seattle and Vancouver to show off my toddler daughter to far-flung members of the family.
So not much to report, bumming around Manhattan; but I did visit Hearth. And given that the restaurant has just celebrated its tenth anniversary, this was probably my first time time there.
Poached tuna salad
Roast sirloin, braised short ribs
Straight down the line precise cooking, and a domestic Syrah to go with the beef. I also gave casa Mono another spin for lunch. Bread rubbed with tomato, hand-sliced ham, croquetas de bacalao, a salad sprinkled with Manchego, pimientos rellenos de rabo de vaca, quail with figs. And a drop of the Viña Albera rosado.
I was also still piling on the nightlife, like the extraordinary and mildly deranged Rick Shaprio at The Bowery Poetry Club: a comedy set that went on, and on, and on, until almost every member of the audience had uncomfortably left the room. A desperate man.
At Webster Hall, it was the closing party for the Howl! festival, and my favorite local punks--Shellshocked--were playing. At home I made seafood lasagne, I made braised quail with sausage and grapes, I made a peach clafoutis.
And I packed my bags. Next week, headed west.