back to the local Mexican: steak flautas and guacamole salad
Eating in NYC was certainly wonderful - decadent, expensive, lovely. Actually, it was probably not more of any of those than a good week in normal London life, but coming from a town with, effectively, no restaurants (Mexican/steak/bbq joints not counting) it was culture shock and a treat.
We did the whole Thanksgiving turkey thing, which was cooked, bizarrely, by a friend of our hosts who turned out to also be a mutual acquaintance of mine from Suffolk. He apparently owed them a favour, as he turned up clad in a velvet suit, proceeded to prepare the turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce and giblet gravy, put the bird in the oven and then, after a couple of glasses of wine, left to have his Thanksgiving meal elsewhere. It all turned out deliciously, and was finished off with pumpkin pie, which our all-English party had to phone-a-friend to find out whether to serve hot or cold. Then lots of coffee and scotch (no Southern bourbon here) and our expat celebration was complete.
The most decadent part of our visit was certainly the impromptu jump out of a traffic-jammed cab into the Grand Central Station oyster bar for an oysters and Guinness lunch. But actually, if I lived in NY and worked nearby, I would probably go there far too often for lunchtime treats, a bit like I used to do at the bar of St John in London. Most main courses and sandwiches are really pretty reasonably priced, with some obvious bargains in the soup/stew sections, and utterly delicious, not to mention the surroundings. The small baby who was accompanying us also loved the whole affair, stuffing oyster crackers in her mouth and charming everybody, looking around with wide eyes and definitely not wanting to leave.
Other good things were eaten at the Peasant - good fashionable Italian food and good cocktails with which to while away the wait for our table. The only very strange thing here was that our waitress allowed us to all order main courses without telling us that none of them came with any side vegetables. Therefore missing out on fleecing us for more money, but also meaning that we were all rather gobsmacked when a bistecca the size of a dinner plate turned up for one of our party garnished with nothing more than parsley, and we had to rather hurriedly order some greens. Also, steaks the size of dinner plates are so ridiculously sized as to be slightly nauseating no matter how well they are chosen and cooked - and unfortunately this one was also not cooked rare as requested. After having waited a fair time for our food to arrive, however, no-one was going to send it back. My ossobuco with farro was very good, however, and the pannacotta also.
We had good New York breakfasts at institutions likeCafe Lalo (with ridiculously slow service) and Prune on E 1st Street, where I indulged another New Yorky craving of mine - lots of really good smoked fish from Russ and Daughters. and nouveau diner food at Relish Diner in Williamsburg. All very classic NYC but just what I needed in my belly to send me back to Alabama happy but slightly craving home-cooked food.
We did the whole Thanksgiving turkey thing, which was cooked, bizarrely, by a friend of our hosts who turned out to also be a mutual acquaintance of mine from Suffolk. He apparently owed them a favour, as he turned up clad in a velvet suit, proceeded to prepare the turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce and giblet gravy, put the bird in the oven and then, after a couple of glasses of wine, left to have his Thanksgiving meal elsewhere. It all turned out deliciously, and was finished off with pumpkin pie, which our all-English party had to phone-a-friend to find out whether to serve hot or cold. Then lots of coffee and scotch (no Southern bourbon here) and our expat celebration was complete.
The most decadent part of our visit was certainly the impromptu jump out of a traffic-jammed cab into the Grand Central Station oyster bar for an oysters and Guinness lunch. But actually, if I lived in NY and worked nearby, I would probably go there far too often for lunchtime treats, a bit like I used to do at the bar of St John in London. Most main courses and sandwiches are really pretty reasonably priced, with some obvious bargains in the soup/stew sections, and utterly delicious, not to mention the surroundings. The small baby who was accompanying us also loved the whole affair, stuffing oyster crackers in her mouth and charming everybody, looking around with wide eyes and definitely not wanting to leave.
Other good things were eaten at the Peasant - good fashionable Italian food and good cocktails with which to while away the wait for our table. The only very strange thing here was that our waitress allowed us to all order main courses without telling us that none of them came with any side vegetables. Therefore missing out on fleecing us for more money, but also meaning that we were all rather gobsmacked when a bistecca the size of a dinner plate turned up for one of our party garnished with nothing more than parsley, and we had to rather hurriedly order some greens. Also, steaks the size of dinner plates are so ridiculously sized as to be slightly nauseating no matter how well they are chosen and cooked - and unfortunately this one was also not cooked rare as requested. After having waited a fair time for our food to arrive, however, no-one was going to send it back. My ossobuco with farro was very good, however, and the pannacotta also.
We had good New York breakfasts at institutions like
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