[Pink Pig Time Machine by Wilfrid: October 13, 2008]
Not much to report from the old memoirs this week. One of those periods where I kept my feet on the ground (or at least on the floor, thirty or so flights up) for a brief period between trips.
Anyone remember Nirvana? This was the most opulent Indian restaurant Manhattan has scene. It was on Central Park South: you entered through a door which you could easily miss, except for the doorman in traditional dress from sash to turban. An elevator swept you aloft to a dining room hung with richly decorated fabrics to resemble the interior of a grand marquee. There was a view across the Park, allegedly, but of course it was dark out.
I took an English guest, who was missing his curry after only a week away from home. Lamb cooked with almonds was the main event. For dessert, we repaired downstairs for a festive chocolate chip rice pudding at Micky Mantle's.
If Nirvana has vanished, the Old San Juan still holds its ground on Ninth Avenue. Conceived, I believe, by an Argentinian husband and Puerto Rican wife, it was a handy neighborhood spot for pan-Latin eating. Not bad morcilla, for example, and decent grilled sweetbreads. Mofongo also, and ten years ago this week I ate the shrimp version.
Aquavit was a fancier destination, and was actually offering a game menu in the Fall of '98. Nothing epsecially gamy about smoked salmon in a lobster broth, but the dinner proceeded with the unusual combination of salt-cured squab and sea urchin - a briny surprise, which I've not seen since - and rack of wild boar with mixed root vegetables, mashed. A '95 Pommard went with the latter dish, anyway. And off to see the veteran soprano Barbara Cook at the Carlyle.
Another vanished restaurant - and I'm not even sure of the name: was it just called The Caviar Restaurant? Anyway, it was on Park Avenue, in the 50's I think, and served various caviar and smoked fish plates at slightly less expense than Petrossian. Lunch here featured Sevruga with accompaniments, followed by an open-faced sturgeon sandwich. I am sure it was costly then, and would doubtless by unaffordable today.
More entertainment the same evening, with the British comic-song troupe Fascinating Aida at The Firebird's cabaret room. My diary suggests I ate borscht while they played. Just borscht?
And the week closed at my established favorite, San Domenico. There are a lot of San Domenico dinners in these diaries; this must have been my first encounter with the white truffles:
Cream of borlotti beran soup
Polpetti in red and yellow pepper broth
Supreme of guinea fowl, cauliflower, white truffles
Panna Cotta
A wine choice I wouldn't make now - Mondavi Sangiovese, '95. But I'm sure I enjoyed it at the time.
