I’m telling

Hungarian Rhapsody

Growing up, my best friend used to always say, “Secrets, secrets are no fun. Secrets, secrets are for everyone.” Really, she only said that when she wasn’t already in on the secret, which as it was, wasn’t often, because she was always in on the secret, but still. She didn’t like not knowing things, and either do I.

Which is why it was annoying me that I hadn’t been to Please Don’t Tell yet. I had been to Crif Dogs, the East Village hot dog shop with the phone booth that you have to go through to get into the not-so-secret speakeasy, but never actually inside the bar itself. The place is small so reservations, which can only be made by calling at 3pm the day of, go pretty quickly.

But recently, I got let in on the secret, and so now I’m gonna blab about it, because even though the name is please don’t tell, everyone knows half the fun is in telling. Continue reading


Hot chocolate, hot damn!

Dark and white hot chocolate... so tasty, we almost forgot I needed a picture of it before it was gone

 Usually I’m all about celebrating the end of the work week and the start of the weekend with a stiff drink, but last Friday, the drink I knew would hit the spot and take edge off was of the non-alcoholic variety.

As soon as I pushed open the door and bounded out on to the sidewalk where Flaneur was waiting for me, his chin burrowed down into his zipped up jacket, I thought: oh… my… expletive, it’s freakin’ cold. This calls for something warm. And chocolatey. Continue reading

Lobster rolling

Lobster roll and a small mountain of fries at Pearl Oyster Bar

I don’t eat shellfish very often. Not because I don’t like shrimp, crab or lobsters, or even because I’m allergic, but instead because my boyfriend is.

I’m all about sharing food, and if he can’t eat something because there’s a sea creature in it that’s gonna make his lips balloon and his throat swell shut, than I’m not gonna order it. Really, what kind of girlfriend would I be if I did? (And if I were allergic to anything, I would expect the same from him.)

So on the eve of his return to the city, I decided that it was only fitting that I have shellfish, one last time while I still could without feeling selfish. My good friend and soon-to-be-West-Village-neighbor, Vanessa, had recently been to Pearl Oyster Bar and raved about it so we decided that’s where we’d go. (Side note: In case you were interested, yes, the gods of New York city apartments finally heard my prayers.  As of Dec. 1 I am homeless no more.) Continue reading

The great pumpkin binge of 2010

I’ve been a terrible, negligent blogger recently and I’m really not ok with it. Since moving back to the city, I’ve shamefully posted only three times. Three times! It’s been a month! I used to post three times in a week, and now look what I’ve become. Ugh.

And not to feed you a bunch of excuses, but my life in the past month has made consistent blogging damn near impossible. The biggest obstacle in the way of my routine blogging schedule is the fact that I still don’t have my own place to live. Finding an apartment has proven to be a far bigger nightmare than I expected it to be and if it weren’t for my awesome friends who have taken me in, I’d be just another crazy New York city bum.

On top of all that, I’ve gotten back into the habit of going to the gym (read: even less free time between work and bedtime), and still don’t have my boyfriend around (meaning my dinners for one often include bowls cereal or Twinkies— hardly blog material).

But rest assured faithful readers, all uhm, five of you out there, I’ve still been eating. In fact, in the past month, I’ve been on my annual pumpkin binge. It happens every fall, and this fall even boyfriend and apartment-lessness hasn’t stopped me.

Pumpkin muffins are always around somewhere, and this year I had mine  at Le Pain Quotidien. Soft and moist with a subtle cinnamon and pumpkin flavor, these, like most of the baked goods at PQ, were pretty good. I liked the toasted pumpkin seeds which gave it a nice tiny bit of saltiness.

Pumpkin muffin from Le Pain Quotidien

Continue reading

Just what I needed



It had been a long day. A really long day. There were back-to-back deadlines at work, depressing New York city apartments to visit (and then run away from), family arguments to mediate, and the grand cherry on the sundae that was my Wednesday, my email and Facebook were hacked into by some “cybercriminal” who proceeded to send every single one of my contacts a message saying I was mugged and clubbed (yes clubbed, like a baby seal)  in Glasgow, Scotland (where mind you, I’ve never been) and needed money. I mean seriously. I couldn’t make this stuff up if I wanted to.

And because I’m a complete glutton for punishment, I decided to add to all of that by making a pit-stop on my way home at Whole Foods in Union Square. You know, because dealing with an overcrowded supermarket full of pissy, in-a-hurry hungry people (not entirely unlike myself) and wildly overpriced food, oh and the multi-colored 10-lane check-out area was exactly what I needed to unwind.

I was starting to think I had made a huge mistake, when all of a sudden I rounded a corner and froze in front of what I saw.  In my head, the clouds parted and rays of sunshine and unadulterated happiness beamed down on me while a choir of angels heralded the cure to my terrible Wednesday: egg nog!

There it was before me, an entire free-standing refrigerated section of egg nog and nothing else! Original egg nog, low fat egg nog, Silk egg nog (as in the soy milk), pumpkin spiced egg nog, organic egg nog.

This is how I know there’s a God. He gave me egg nog.

I greedily and impatiently wait all year for the arrival of egg nog season and when it comes, I buy it regularly. After Christmas, when egg nog is stripped from the refrigerated dairy section, my life feels empty and lacking, like the living room always feels in January when the Christmas tree is hauled to the curb and the lights are boxed.

But no use in worrying about goodbyes just now, because egg nog just got here. Thick, cool and creamy with that deliciously sweet nutmeg and cinnamon-flecked comfort it always gives me, I honestly  can’t think of anything that could have made me feel better.

Egg nog, you saved the day. Here’s to a long and happy season together.