Siddity in the City

Saturday, the family came into town and we wandered the city aimlessly, gorging on dumplings and noodles at New Green Bo on Bayard, between Elizabeth and some-frigging-thing-else.

I say gorged because we ordered so much food that, when I decided to throw in a purely veggie dish for good measure, the waiter gasped, “No, it’s too much! If you want more, order later!”

Three of us ate pork pan-fried dumplings, cold sesame noodles, chicken fried rice, General Tso’s chicken, Singapore mei fun and…oh no, that was it. I was going to order the sauteed asparagus, but, like I said, the waiter wouldn’t let me. Good thing, too: we ended up leaving the bulk of the rice and mei fun behind. The cash damage for all that excess? Just over $35, including tax, tip and beverages. I heart New Green Bo.

Sunday, the mother- and brother- units departed and I met up with my friend Nat at South Street Seaport for lunch and a rollicking good time listening to the, er, windy sounds of the Columbia Summer Winds down on Pier 17. She had a friend in the band. It was great seeing her, though, ’cause in a few weeks, she’s taking off for a year or two to pursue peace in the Middle East or somesuch. (Teaching science in Jordan, brokering peace deals, same difference. Creative license and all that.)

Monday…I don’t know what the hell I did Monday. Oh! I wandered around looking for inspiration in Washington Square Park. God only knows why. And I ate a $6 peanut butter and nutella sammich at Peanut Butter and Co. It was worth it. Their wheat bread is extra big.

Tuesday…a meeting, and writing, and a half-liquid lunch with Stolie at Calico Jack’s on the East Side. Honestly? No $3 margarita is worth drinking, people. Don’t even bother. As a general rule, avoid anyplace that pours your mixed cocktail from a pitcher, and if you have the power, don’t let ‘em slip sour mix in there, either. If you don’t see ‘em make it, move right along. Go someplace you can get some Patron, Grand Marnier, and some fresh-squuzzed lime juice, salted rim, rocks. I said it. Squuzzed. (And a margarita should not cost you $15. Last week I went to Senor Swanky’s with Stols and Bro. Swanky’s ‘ritas started at $12 for the well-booze, but taste like watered-down ass, even when we got the “premium.” Crap I say. Mierda, even. Waste of life, that place.)

Today, I did some more writing and then meandered my way up to Harlem Vintage, on 121st and Douglass. Nice shop. Very nice. I picked up a German Gewurtztraminer, a Cava, and an “entry” level (read-bottom-end) calvados, and only spent about $60. The staff is extremely knowledgeable, helpful, and could likely put even the most untutored of drinkahol neophytes at ease. Aaaand they do tastings every Saturday, from 4-7 p.m.; you can go work out your vintners from your varietals and get schooled on wine-growing regions for free. So, where will you be this Saturday? Yes, that’s what I thought.

Now I’m off to figure out whether or not calvados-soaked figs, stuffed with brie and roasted until gooey, are even half as tasty as they sound. And to procure some *shudder* Alize. Don’t ask. Don’t even bloody ask. Kidding. Spirit of adventure, try anything once, and whatnot.

Why yes, I have already tried the Cava and calvados, why do you ask? *hic*

Happy Hump Day.