Peacefully Towards Spring: Ten Years Ago

[Pink Pig Time Machine by Wilfrid:  March 21, 2011]

The events of the past week or so reminded me ruefully that in Spring of 2001, New York was booming, much of the western world considered itself comfortably prosperous, and we were locally at peace.  Within six months, so much would change.  Oblivious, of course, I spent the week after a pair of quick London trips just bumbling around.

Perhaps the biggest blow of the week was the closure of Posner's first-rate bookshop on University Place, which seemed to stock everything anyone reading the humanities could want - philosophy books I had not dreamed were in print.  I commiserated with myself at Jimmy's Corner (my diary confirms that one bartender still there was there ten years ago, and she really needs to be getting on with her career as a designer).

I made a large quantity of coq au vin at home and ate it for a couple of nights with potatoes.  I read an ancient book by Arthur Ransome (of Swallows and Amazons fame, if that's still famous) called Bohemia in London), as well as Theodore Fontane's Effi Briest; none of his other novels are well known to an English speaking audience, although just last week I saw a couple of translations have just been published. 

Midweek cocktails in Chinatown (but where?), and then partride from Bayard's Meat Market, pot roasted and served with German fried potatoes (add onions and bacon).   Chicken soup the next day, also home made, with tarragon and some fava beans.  The heavens opened and spring rains arrived.

Entertainment, at last, as the week neared an end.  Seth Rudetsky's "Broadway Chatterbox" at Don't Tell Mama's, that hilarious for-charity live talk show which is still rolling along.   Then clams on the half shell and other suitable refreshments at the much-missed Danny's.

Finally a meal out on Friday night, at a long-closed little SoHo spot called Frontière which held good memories for me.  It was one of the first little bistros I had discovered in New York, before I was a resident, and it had the charming European custom of leaving an open bottle of wine on the table and charging you by quantity consumed.  This still happens in some of the old school bistros of Paris.  A modest meal.  Wild mushroom salad followed by a strip steak with garlic mash.  Bread and butter pudding to close.

As it happens, Andrew Carmellini is about to open his new restaurant, Dutch, in spitting distance of old Frontière.  I expect it will arrive with much greater fanfare, and hope it has half the charm.

Comments

[Stephanie]

The bookstore was Posman's, and I miss it too. At least it lives on in Grand Central.