Today's adventures began around 10:30 a.m, after I'd had a nice phone visit with my high school
friend, Susan W in Brooklyn. We'd had a brief visit at our class reunion last summer and did more
catching up this morning on the phone. It was not possible to meet in person here because our day
was planned and I return home tomorrow.
We took the 5th Avenue bus south to 49th Street and visited the American Girl Store with an
intervening stop at Rockefeller Center and a hoity toity chocolate shop on the Promenade. Helluva
deal there. You can buy a piece of chocolate candy for $9.50 in a small gold-colored cardboard box
with a fake flower bouquet on top. I gotta get into that business, Kids.
Do you know American Girl dolls? You can look it up. I bought a little something for Rob's mom there
. No, I did not buy anything for Sam. She's a toddler (two last week), fercripesake, and doesn't
need a $100 doll.
Then we went to the Odd Job store -- a bargain haunt frequented by a prominent Upper East Side
matron. Lots of cool stuff and my feet were killing me. I managed to escape without purchasing
anything. My companion did not make out as well.
We went back to Bryant Park to make a couple small purchases from the St. Petersburg shop there.
That's St. Petersburg, Russia, not St. Petersburg, Florida.
Well, then we hopped a bus, I think, to the Fairway Food Store. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!! What a
place. A half block of produced arranged outside the building. More inside. Arranged in perfect row
upon row. You want apples? They have apples. Cucumbers? Three for a buck, imported from Florida. My
dears, shopping at Fairway is not for the faint of heart. Trust me. Rob, if you think Cub is a PITA,
you have no idea. . . .Dry-aged beef in a cooler. A 5 pound untainted-by-chemicals boneless turkey
breast for $48. Progresso soup for $1.93 per can. USDA choice strip steaks for $7 per pound. Grilled
asparagus spears. Lovely cut cantaloupe for $2.50 for about 3/4 pint. Sainte Andre Triple Cream
Cheese (perhaps what I ate at Mimi's yesterday). They deliver. What a deal. I bought a couple things
(spiced cashews and some cheese) and Margaret bought some stuff -- "Here taste this date; they won't
shoot you." "It's very good." "I will buy some." "Please don't -- it is delicious and I don't want
any." "Well, let's buy cherries instead." "Sure, what the hell. Why not." The cherries are
delicious, Chilean, and next to me. I swallow. Cool place, that Fairway.
Then we went upstairs to kill some time before dinner at Ouest at
5:30--we were meeting Marcel there. We went to the cafe upstairs at Fairway and Margaret didn't have
any wine. That's different. She ordered tea and toast and I ordered coffee and the lemon meringue
[censored]. Ay, caramba! The [censored] was [censored]. I faked her out on the check, we sat and talked until she
was too embarrassed to stick around any more (we weren't getting any dirty looks, though) and then
headed up to a hot restaurant called Ouest. Oy.
Margaret had a glass of St. Emilion and she made me have a Manhattan. Marcel joined us and had a
glass of burgundy that Margaret didn't care for. Don't ask. The crunch bread (baguette) was served
with hummus. Good stuff, Maynard. We all ordered from the Prix Fixe menu (a bargain at $26 for
appetizer, main, and dessert). Margaret had the grilled chicken with mashed potatoes, Marcel and I
ordered the hangar steak with creamy polenta and natural jus. There was a green salad atop the
polenta -- barely dressed with a balsamic and quite yummy. Marcel opted out of the polenta and
ordered roasted fingerling potahtoes. Tres dee-lish. Come dessert time, Margaret crapped out, I
ordered the Panna Cotta with tropical juice on top (puckered me right up, it was so [censored]; the panna
cotta was delightful) and Saint Marcel had the sorbet selection minus the papaya sorbet and with
another scoop of raspberry in its place. Vanilla was the third choice. Marcel ordered a decaf
espresso. Seven-eighths of the way through it, he told the waiter it was cold and could he have it
replaced, please. I've never seen this man, Sir. But he is cute. At $26 each, is that a bargain
three course dinner at a hoity toity place or what? I did not show our waiter, Joseph, my tattoos.
We did not ask Don Witt for his autograph.
We hailed a cab, dropped Marcel near his apartment (in case you thought they're a live in couple,
they're not) and were deposited at Margaret's front door to the building.
The cherries are great, my dogs are barking, my back is killing me, and my legs are sore. It was a
perfect day.
Tomorrow I go home. We'll hit Zabar's in the morning. It's good to be me and it sucks to be you.
-Barb, posting from Margaret's account