Children of the Corn VIII

While home on a lovely Saturday afternoon having a coffee in silence, I happened upon an article from the NY Daily News about the new phenomenon cropping up in suburbia called 'Mom Caves'.  The article tells the 'Man Cave' to move on over because the Mom Cave is the new trend in homemaking, finding a much needed refuge for tired mothers needing a little 'me' time.  Like other selfish twenty-somethings I am the queen of 'treat yourself' and 'you deserve it' so this article peaked my interest but left me slightly disturbed. 

To create a Mom Cave, NY based designer Elaine Griffin suggests, 'turning a stair landing into a mini-sanctuary using narrow console tables, a luxurious rug, and a couple of armchairs.'

I am all for a room to call your own, but is mom-hood so draining that your desperation for alone time is cowering on the landing of your stairwell?!  I sure hope there's more to motherhood than a bedraggled woman finding an oasis under the stairs because that's all she has left.  The unassuming expose on mom caves turned my quiet Saturday with a latte in my shoebox apartment into a five star hotel experience on a private island.  A fresh perspective is all you need to appreciate the every day.

Mondrian SoHo

I recently frequented the newest venture from Morgans Hotel Group, Mondrian Soho, for a best friend's birthday.  The hotel opened just in time for warm weather and is appropriately thematic for Spring.  The lobby ambles into a garden room reminiscent of A Midsummer Night's Dream, full of greenery and elaborate chandeliers with solar paneling for a ceiling.  The drinks are simple and expensive, but the ambiance is ethereal and romantic.  Apparently the hotel was inspired by the 1940s film La Belle et La Bete and it makes quite the statement on its quiet cobblestone street in Soho.  Sam Talbot is the chef of their restaurant, Imperial No. 9, which focuses mostly on seafood with a comfort food slant.  I much prefer The Surf Lodge in Montauk to Imperial No. 9, but one staple he kept on the menu are the melty cauliflower fritters, which are so so good.  Other than my obsession for the fritters, I wouldn't go back for the food,  but I can't wait to drink champagne under the ivy again.

'You Are What You Eataly'

Mario Batali is to the Italian fine dining community what Donald Trump is to crooked real estate.  This is not a warped nonsensical SAT question, it is me professing my love to Mario.  I love Lupa, Otto, Babbo, and Del Posto.  I have even traveled to Hells Kitchen to go to Esca because I leave no rock unturned when it comes to Mario Batali.  So when I heard about his latest venture, Eataly, I had to check it out. 

I went to Eataly for the first time a few months ago and it was not just a great lunch, it was an experience that could easily transport you to Italy, Spain, or any other European market of your choice.  The market place alone is a site to be scene.  The meat and fish are displayed raw, uncut, and in full.  I am not one for seafood, but just viewing the visible difference in shape, color, and texture of a Talapia displayed alongside a Monk fish was fascinating.  You can dine aside the fresh fish at the seafood restaurant inside the market, Il Pesce.  For those that would like a cheese sampling pared with wine, standing tables are set up at La Piazza.  For a quick bite you can stop by the Panini or Focaccia counters for lunch on the run.  I have eaten at La Pizza & Pasta restaurant for a delicious gnocchi lunch and Manzo for a all time best steak dinner.  Both meals were authentic and absolutely phenomenal.  

For dessert, I always swing by the Gelateria and pick up Gelato that is well worth it even on a cold day.  Each time I leave the market and hit the grounds of Madison Square Park its like I am re-entering New York City after being away on a foodie escape.  Next up, their rooftop beer garden, which is set to open this Spring.  Could this place be any cooler?

Big East Baby!

I have a fanatical sports family with a passion and slightly unhealthy emotional investment in college basketball, specifically for our home team - UConn.  The lowest profile games are watched with undivided attention in 'lucky' outfits while clapping and pacing at the TV six minutes into a 3 point game.  So it should come as no surprise that come March Madness calendars are cleared and the family pool takes center stage.  Once brackets are completed the smack talking on the message board is the real highlight, and my personal favorite part.  Although it can get out of hand, case in point when I was shit talking my dad over BBM the other day and he reminded me that every time he has won in previous years, he has given me his winnings (Oops, I'm a jerk).    So here's hoping I win this year, or my dad does, but either way I will have fun in between telling everyone 'they're goin' downnn'.

BONDST

I stopped through my fave sushi restaurant in NYC last night - BONDST.  We started the night with Lychee martinis, the best in town, and even the boys loved them (although they insisted on ordering them in tumblers instead of martini glasses - our little secret that there was a fruity drink inside).  The crowd is always attractive and the vibe is trendy here, but make no mistake, the best part about BONDST is the delicious food.

BONDST is always a treat because of their creative menu, they do it like nobody else, which sets them apart in a city full of sceney Japanese restaurants.  I always order their Sundried Tomato & Avocado roll, a unique take on the vegetable roll, and the Sake Braised Short Ribs that melt in your mouth.  The Chocolate Meltdown lava cake is just as special, and tastes like warm chocolatey heaven.  The food did not stop coming out until we were officially sedated, a state very difficult to reach when eating fluffy fish wrapped in seaweed, but we managed and left high on Lychee and fun. 

Donkey of the Week

Donkey of the Week is...Mike Tyson (you thought I'd  say Charlie Sheen but that'd be too easy).  While channel surfing, I was lucky enough to come across an exclusive interview with Mike T. discussing how he has turned his life around...racing pigeons.  He says:

"The first thing I ever loved in my life was a pigeon...its a constant with my sanity.'

I am racing pigeons every day of my New York City life, and I'm pretty sure this can also just be called 'any old Saturday in Central Park'.  I am in complete agreement that there is nowhere but up from making another man's ear your afternoon lunch, but is this all that's left for 'Iron Mike'?  Although he has veered off the standard career path it is evident he is still keeping his crazy.  The vision of a tatted up Mike Tyson surrounded by an incoming flock of 200 pigeons is a night terror even Alfred Hitchcock couldn't come up with. 

Barcelona

New York winters hit the depressing mark right around the end of February so we jumped ship and headed to the warmest part of Europe to fulfill our New Years Resolution for culture with a side of sunshine.  We spent the first two days in the countryside of Girona and biked around the Medieval villages eating the local speciality - tomato and garlic rubbed bread.  From there we drove down the Costa Brava, popping into picturesque beach front villages on the coast where houses tumbled down narrow roads right onto the pebble beaches. 

 

Once in Barcelona we stayed at the Hotel Arts per recommendations from close friends and not so close friends like Gwyneth Paltrow.  The hotel was beautiful and also a little confused because they mistook us for a businessman from Wayne, Pennsylvania and promptly upgraded us to a suite and asked us daily how they could improve our stay with hand written notes.  We rolled with the punches and had morning coffees on the wharf proceeded by intensive sight seeing where I dragged my man around the city for hours insisting on seeing every landmark so much as mentioned in my guide book.  This was a learning exercise - different travelers have different sight seeing styles.  Noted.

 

All in all Barcelona is a magical place because it combines so many enjoyable pastimes.  It is city for people that love to be outside, by the Mediterranean or walking through quintessential old world European districts like the Gothic Quarter.   The art is not showcased in large scale museums like the Louvre, it is mostly embedded in the city's architecture, like the Gaudi structures and estates.  Additionally, it boasts one of the best foodie cultures with more Michelin starred restaurants than I have ever seen so closely packed in one place (and don't even get me started on the tapas).  I love to hike, my guilty pleasure is admiring real estate, and I want nothing more than small portions so I can eat my way through an entire menu.  I think I've found my match.

Big Night Out

Since our engagement party took place in the grand old town of NYC, the main character of this here blog, I will share photos below.  Surprise dinner at the Standard Grill with dancing afterward at the artist formerly known as the Boom Boom Room.  OK now I will stop celebrating myself, enough is enough.  

Engagement Story

The first thing people ask when you get engaged is, how did he do it?!  For some reason, these five words have become a part of the standard bride-to-be lexicon and have given birth to the 'Engagement Story'.  Needless to say, this month my boyfriend not only made me his valentine, he also put a ring on it, so I know about the engagement story all to well - I have been telling it for weeks.  I even contemplated calling in sick to work after hours upon hours of retelling the story just to rest my vocal chords and regain a sense of normalcy.  All cynicism aside, the happy ending to this story is that I was whisked away to a lodge upstate and I said yes.

Sounds lovely doesn't it?  That's why I skipped to the end.  The middle was a little less of a smooth ride, mostly the fault of yours truly.  That's because setting the stage for an engagement today is like pulling off a bank heist in broad daylight.  Like a game of telephone, engagement stories are passed on like folklore - a complicated scavenger hunt in Central Park, a plane writing 'Will you marry me?' in the sky while you toast champagne from a hot air balloon, or a blind fold and a surprise trip to the Caribbean with five minutes to pack your bag.  So while I was buying a 2 dollar Valentine's Day card for my man, he was losing weight from stress, sweating bullets, and tossing and turning over pulling off an elaborate pitch perfect proposal.  I, of course, made it all the more difficult by unwittingly thwarting each of his ideas.  Weekend in the Caribbean?  Too expensive this time of year, lets wait until April.  Last minute get away to the Catskills?  In the middle of winter...that's crazy talk, cancel it.  In fact I am busy, dinner plans Friday, party on Saturday.  Super Mandatory.  This song and dance continued all week until there was no choice left but to kidnap me from Manhattan.  So instead of being gracefully whisked off my feet I was clumsily dragged upstate in the wee hours of the morning during a snow storm.

Since I had insisted on attending each and every plan on the social calendar for no good reason, my kidnapping took place after a three hour dinner at Dos Caminos that I thought I was leaving to go to the sanctuary that is my bed.  Surprise!  I was met with a midnight ride to the Catskills in sleet and ice conditions (apparently this trip was non-refundable, oops).  I was suffering from a Thursday night open bar hang over, in a top five worst outfit from the back of my closet, and my hair was undone.  This was not how I had envisioned my big moment (I never imagine my big life moments with curly hair), but I soldiered on.  We embarked on our journey as I fought the shakes and we navigated precarious unplowed mountain roads.  Thankfully, we did make it to our final destination alive, albeit exhausted, and this story did end in a proposal.  It was too late for the planned room service champagne and we were both shades of our former selves, but it didn't matter.  Even if you plan for a bells and whistles event full of fanfare, real life takes over, which is how it should be.  There were mishaps and bad hair and this cockamamy engagement story was far from perfect but it was us, which ultimately made it perfect. 

Scrambled Eggs with a Side of Over-the-Knee Boots

It seems like only yesterday that I was poking fun at the party brunch scene scattered across hip enclaves of Manhattan.  Apparently I was dipping my toe in the waters of self-fulfilling prophecy because I just emerged today, bleary eyed and disoriented, from the new 'Day & Night' brunch at the Oak Room in the Plaza Hotel.  Here is how I was kidnapped into thinking I was having goat cheese scrambled egg whites at the Plaza, and instead ended up witnessing table dancing and make out sessions over a 2 foot bottle of Champagne:

My Boyfriend:  There is a brunch thing at the Plaza, do you want to go?

Me: Sounds fancy, OK, should we dress up?

My Boyfriend:  Yeah, I guess so (then proceeds to put on a gray t-shirt and jeans)

I take my man's queues and throw on a collared shirt and we are on the way.  I am envisioning high tea and cucumber sandwiches as we walk into the grand entrance.  Wait a tick - there is a long line of silky dresses and Louboutins, and a bouncer is at the door.  Why am I getting carded for eggs and home fries? 

This is one of those times you look at your boyfriend and give him the stink eye because he has led you under false pretenses into a less than ideal situation.  Luckily he was in my good graces (more on this later) so I took the surprise in stride.  The food was so-so, but it was clearly not the main attraction.  Leather pants, over-the-knee boots, and 6 inch platform heels were the norm, and the people watching was some of the best I've seen in a while.  The next best thing from the cast of characters dancing to hip hop tunes over french toast was the enormous bottles of booze that were so large the waitresses were carrying them like a bushel of wheat on their shoulders.  The sparklers on top of the bottles promised a very aggressive 2:00PM, and I fear some patrons may not have left until the dinner crowd was coming through.

Bottom line -  If you are a true scenester this place is for you.  However, move fast before this party evaporates as quickly as the smoke from the sparklers inside.  As I escaped for some normal Saturday activity I overheard an internal squabble about residence noise complaints and disapproval over poor public behavior around the hotel.  I assume the folks at the Plaza had no idea what they were getting themselves into.  Sounds familiar.