How I’d like to survive summer

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Hello, summer.

How any of us musters the will to do anything at all in this sweltering, suffocating, New York city summer heat is beyond me. Showing up to work, going to the gym, running errands, riding the God forsaken moving sweat lodge that is the subway— I don’t wanna do any of it.

All I feel like doing from now till October is sitting in the shade with a frosty drink in my hand and a spread of summery food in front of me and some good company to enjoy it with. That’s not so much to ask for, is it?

It’s what I did recently at Red Hook’s Brooklyn Crab and let me tell you, it was pretty freakin’ spectacular. It was what every summer day should be like.

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THIS! This is how I wanna do summer.

A couple of friends and I sat on the top deck of the open seafood shack, where there was enough sun that we needed sunglasses but also a breeze coming off the water to make it bearable. We had frozen margaritas out of bendy straws, a cold pitcher of beer and lots of delicious, garlic-buttery seafood: a whole platter of Alaskan king, Snow, and Dungeness crabs, and lobster, too, with coleslaw, corn on the cob, roasted potatoes and jalapeño cornbread to go with it. There were oysters and peel-and-eat shrimp and fried calamari, as well, because sometimes, well… it’s summer and you have to celebrate.

It’s too hot to do anything else, really.

The stuff foodie dreams are made of

I’m a pretty lucky girl in that I can’t remember the last bad meal I had in New York. (Well, actaully, that’s not entirely true. The McDonald’s Happy Meal I had while inebriated on new  year’s eve in the Lower East Side wasn’t exactly one of the better dining moments I’ve had, but why even bother counting that?)

I not only don’t really have bad meals, I actually tend to have lots of really great meals. Some so incredibly awesome that I dwell on them, long after they’ve been digested.

East and West coast oysters

Last week, for example, the boy and I ate at the recently opened John Dory Oyster Bar at the Ace Hotel, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. In fact, I woke up thinking about it the next day, wondering dreamily as I lay in bed, Did that really happen? ‘Cause God it was good. Like a lovesick schoolgirl, I want to doodle I JD on my notebooks and sign my name Angie Dory Oyster Bar, just to see what it would look like.

It being an oyster bar and all, we of course had to get some of the not-so-attractive but oh-so-delicious mollusks. To give ourselves a taste of everything, we opted for the platter of East coast and West coast oysters, of which we got three kinds for each coast.  Two shells in the middle contained spicy horseradish and a zesty blend of juices and herbs, each perfect for gently dabbing on top of the silky smooth oysters before being slurped down. I’m not an oyster expert but these seemed pretty perfect to me in their briney, peppery juiciness. They tasted like everything that is good about summer days at the beach. 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