Three Bloody Marys, an Amaretto Sour and a Suckling Pig
If you were a fly on the wall behind the bar at Public yesterday around 2:00 p.m., you may have overheard the following while Mrs. O and I slowly and lushfully enjoyed three Bloody Marys:
"He ordered an amaretto sour."
"An amaretto sour? I used to drink those when I was 15!"
"Yes, and you are a girl...
Then he told me he thought he bought a fur coat from the guy sitting down the bar from me...
I said, you bought a fur coat? Was it vintage?
He asked me if I was one of those PETA people. Then he nudged me on the arm and said, go ask that guy if he recently sold a fur coat! Go on, go ask him!
When I refused, he walked over and asked the guy, who replied that no he hadn't, but he was going to use that line in the future... What guy wears a fur coat?"
"A Pimp! That's who!"
"Oh, and he's on his third application to work for the (I leaned in and whispered the name of the government agency into Mrs. O's ear). And... I sort of said I wouldn't write about the date..."
"Oh my god! You have to write about this stuff!" (said Mrs. O through a fit of giggles...)
"Yes and what is my dating life if not the funny stories?! From there the conversation was a trade-off of travel tales, which made it abundantly clear that not only were we not compatible, but that it probably wouldn't be worth a little fun. I mean, he rode elephants in Thailand. That is so bad for the elephants! I learned my lesson last week with Mr. Benefits. It's not always worth the morning after."
Mrs. O and I received our food and continued talking about how unacceptable it is to ask someone for a sip of their morning coffee. Mrs. O doesn't drink coffee, but Mr. O has a morning coffee ritual, so she instantly understand the breach of decorum. Morning coffee is too personal for sharing with someone you barely know. (And seeing their fancy panties does not count as "knowing.")
Our meal was, as it always is at Public, delicious. I committed myself to trying something new since I always have the Turkish eggs and a side of chorizo. I tried the poached eggs with pork belly, spinach, roasted tomato and potato hash (which was seasoned with cumin and speckled with millet... I think). The eggs were topped with a wonderful harissa Hollandaise sauce. (Harissa is a North African chili sauce.) Mrs. O had the tea-smoked salmon with poached eggs and spinach on sourdough toast with yuzu hollandaise. (Yuzu is a Japanese citrus fruit.)
Our conversation continued through the meal and beyond. Dessert was a third Bloody Mary (with a salt and pepper rim... the rim is moistened with lemon juice instead of water). We exchanged stories about recent ex-encounters. Mine went something like this:
"How are you?"
"Good, how are you?"
"Good! How's the cheese?"
When in doubt, ladies and g's, talk about the food.
Then the service started. Someone that day asked, "How was it to date Lost Artist?"
"Well, I wouldn't do it again."
One supposes the siting could have been awkward, but at the end of the day, the awkwardness was not mine. It's been so long, and the whole affair was, in the grand timescale of life, very brief.
Okay, enough about bad dates and ex-encounters. I had a lovely happy hour experience that I must share with you before signing off to catch up on episodes of Lost on this gloomy, chilly Sunday afternoon.
The two ladies from Brooklyn whom I met in Puerto Rico invited me to a suckling pig happy hour at Marc Forgione in Tribeca on Tuesday evening. For $16 one can have as many pork sliders as one can eat, and for $14 more you can add a bottomless draft of Brooklyn Lager.
I have mixed feelings about all-you-can-eat specials, ranging from "Yay, fun!" to "I can't eat enough to make it worthwhile!" to "Americans are gluttons!"
Despite my mixed personality view of all-you-can-eat events, I was superbly happy about partaking in the suckling pig happy hour at Marc Forgione. The pork was juicy and amazingly well flavored. I am not sure what was in it, though it was flecked with mustard seed.
The process is part picnic, part fancy restaurant. Revelers are given a plate at the bar and sent to a long table. You load your plate with one or two housemade buns, which by the way, are the perfect texture for soaking up the pork juice without falling apart. A friendly gentleman behind the table, tops the open buns with pork. At the end of the table you can add sweet pickles, mustard and hot sauce.
The result was so wonderful, I wish I could have eaten more than two. Instead, I had to order a salad to balance the meat and bread. There was only one on the menu which made it easy to decide: baby arugula, shaved fennel, ricotta salata and black pepper vinaigrette. The greens were also topped with crispy shallots (or it may have been onions... forgive me for not having a more discerning palette!).
It's rare that one is served a perfectly balanced salad, but the baby arugula at Marc Forgione is one of those salads. The subtle bitter/spiciness of the arugula was well countered with the lite sweet anise of the fennel. The onions and black pepper vinaigrette were perfect seasonings, and the fresh ricotta salata gave the salad body without weighing it down.
The salad was preceded by tastes of pickled papaya and uni with avocado and was followed by mini cupcakes, all of which were superb. (Uni could have it's own entry, but were just too many topics this week.)
Although I drank a pint of Brooklyn Lager with my pork sliders, I started and ended with a cocktail of of Old Overholt Rye, Peychaud's bitters, absinthe and orange peel. The bartender asked me if I wanted an ice cube in the drink when I was still working on it after dinner. "It's too boozy for some," she said. I assured her I was a boozy girl and there would be no need for ice.
The rye and the absinthe were better together than I expected. I don't know that I would order it again, but it had an interesting mix of flavors.
Anyway, I highly recommend a visit. And, while you are there, take a walk around. The building was built in the 1850's and was originally a dairy. The old elevator is visible behind the bar, and the walls are gorgeous brick. The design is accented with reclaimed wood from a sawmill that burned down in the 1930s. I came across a Q&A with Marc Forgione and managing partner Chris Blumlo online at Restaurant Insider. It's from 2008, but it's interesting to read how the restaurant was designed.
Okay, well, I've gone on long enough. Next week, back to brevity (I hope).
Until then, go out and have some pig (or well-flavored tofu for you vegetarians)! Or a nice cocktail! And don't ride elephants. It's bad for them! Stay tuned!
If you were a fly on the wall behind the bar at Public yesterday around 2:00 p.m., you may have overheard the following while Mrs. O and I slowly and lushfully enjoyed three Bloody Marys:
"He ordered an amaretto sour."
"An amaretto sour? I used to drink those when I was 15!"
"Yes, and you are a girl...
Then he told me he thought he bought a fur coat from the guy sitting down the bar from me...
I said, you bought a fur coat? Was it vintage?
He asked me if I was one of those PETA people. Then he nudged me on the arm and said, go ask that guy if he recently sold a fur coat! Go on, go ask him!
When I refused, he walked over and asked the guy, who replied that no he hadn't, but he was going to use that line in the future... What guy wears a fur coat?"
"A Pimp! That's who!"
"Oh, and he's on his third application to work for the (I leaned in and whispered the name of the government agency into Mrs. O's ear). And... I sort of said I wouldn't write about the date..."
"Oh my god! You have to write about this stuff!" (said Mrs. O through a fit of giggles...)
"Yes and what is my dating life if not the funny stories?! From there the conversation was a trade-off of travel tales, which made it abundantly clear that not only were we not compatible, but that it probably wouldn't be worth a little fun. I mean, he rode elephants in Thailand. That is so bad for the elephants! I learned my lesson last week with Mr. Benefits. It's not always worth the morning after."
Mrs. O and I received our food and continued talking about how unacceptable it is to ask someone for a sip of their morning coffee. Mrs. O doesn't drink coffee, but Mr. O has a morning coffee ritual, so she instantly understand the breach of decorum. Morning coffee is too personal for sharing with someone you barely know. (And seeing their fancy panties does not count as "knowing.")
Our meal was, as it always is at Public, delicious. I committed myself to trying something new since I always have the Turkish eggs and a side of chorizo. I tried the poached eggs with pork belly, spinach, roasted tomato and potato hash (which was seasoned with cumin and speckled with millet... I think). The eggs were topped with a wonderful harissa Hollandaise sauce. (Harissa is a North African chili sauce.) Mrs. O had the tea-smoked salmon with poached eggs and spinach on sourdough toast with yuzu hollandaise. (Yuzu is a Japanese citrus fruit.)
Our conversation continued through the meal and beyond. Dessert was a third Bloody Mary (with a salt and pepper rim... the rim is moistened with lemon juice instead of water). We exchanged stories about recent ex-encounters. Mine went something like this:
"How are you?"
"Good, how are you?"
"Good! How's the cheese?"
When in doubt, ladies and g's, talk about the food.
Then the service started. Someone that day asked, "How was it to date Lost Artist?"
"Well, I wouldn't do it again."
One supposes the siting could have been awkward, but at the end of the day, the awkwardness was not mine. It's been so long, and the whole affair was, in the grand timescale of life, very brief.
Okay, enough about bad dates and ex-encounters. I had a lovely happy hour experience that I must share with you before signing off to catch up on episodes of Lost on this gloomy, chilly Sunday afternoon.
The two ladies from Brooklyn whom I met in Puerto Rico invited me to a suckling pig happy hour at Marc Forgione in Tribeca on Tuesday evening. For $16 one can have as many pork sliders as one can eat, and for $14 more you can add a bottomless draft of Brooklyn Lager.
I have mixed feelings about all-you-can-eat specials, ranging from "Yay, fun!" to "I can't eat enough to make it worthwhile!" to "Americans are gluttons!"
Despite my mixed personality view of all-you-can-eat events, I was superbly happy about partaking in the suckling pig happy hour at Marc Forgione. The pork was juicy and amazingly well flavored. I am not sure what was in it, though it was flecked with mustard seed.
The process is part picnic, part fancy restaurant. Revelers are given a plate at the bar and sent to a long table. You load your plate with one or two housemade buns, which by the way, are the perfect texture for soaking up the pork juice without falling apart. A friendly gentleman behind the table, tops the open buns with pork. At the end of the table you can add sweet pickles, mustard and hot sauce.
The result was so wonderful, I wish I could have eaten more than two. Instead, I had to order a salad to balance the meat and bread. There was only one on the menu which made it easy to decide: baby arugula, shaved fennel, ricotta salata and black pepper vinaigrette. The greens were also topped with crispy shallots (or it may have been onions... forgive me for not having a more discerning palette!).
It's rare that one is served a perfectly balanced salad, but the baby arugula at Marc Forgione is one of those salads. The subtle bitter/spiciness of the arugula was well countered with the lite sweet anise of the fennel. The onions and black pepper vinaigrette were perfect seasonings, and the fresh ricotta salata gave the salad body without weighing it down.
The salad was preceded by tastes of pickled papaya and uni with avocado and was followed by mini cupcakes, all of which were superb. (Uni could have it's own entry, but were just too many topics this week.)
Although I drank a pint of Brooklyn Lager with my pork sliders, I started and ended with a cocktail of of Old Overholt Rye, Peychaud's bitters, absinthe and orange peel. The bartender asked me if I wanted an ice cube in the drink when I was still working on it after dinner. "It's too boozy for some," she said. I assured her I was a boozy girl and there would be no need for ice.
The rye and the absinthe were better together than I expected. I don't know that I would order it again, but it had an interesting mix of flavors.
Anyway, I highly recommend a visit. And, while you are there, take a walk around. The building was built in the 1850's and was originally a dairy. The old elevator is visible behind the bar, and the walls are gorgeous brick. The design is accented with reclaimed wood from a sawmill that burned down in the 1930s. I came across a Q&A with Marc Forgione and managing partner Chris Blumlo online at Restaurant Insider. It's from 2008, but it's interesting to read how the restaurant was designed.
Okay, well, I've gone on long enough. Next week, back to brevity (I hope).
Until then, go out and have some pig (or well-flavored tofu for you vegetarians)! Or a nice cocktail! And don't ride elephants. It's bad for them! Stay tuned!
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