Autumn: Falling Leaves at Our House

Our backyard is half woods.

Election Day 2009

We vote in New Jersey.

This year, the national spotlight is on us because we are one of only two states (the other is Virginia) in which a governor is being elected. In our case, it’s a question of whether Jon Corzine deserves a second term.

Had I been intending to vote for Corzine, the Obama robo call for Corzine we got yesterday (a sitting president doing robo calls is a first for me!) would have turned me against Corzine since I detest Obama! BUT Corzine had already lost my vote all by himself on the floor of last year’s Democratic Convention.

I usually don’t hold grudges. But not when it comes to my vote. It’s sacrosanct. In last year’s Democratic primary, I voted for Hillary Clinton. She won New Jersey by 10%. But Corzine, with narry a peep of dissent from any of the feckless delegates, decided to hand all the votes to Obama. Essentially, they threw my vote (and, I might add, those of millions of other NJ voters) into the trash. Forget and forgive? Not a chance!

Throw away my vote and you will never get it again!

Obama has come to NJ three times, the last just this past Sunday, to campaign side-by-side with Corzine. And then robo calls. (I got only as far as “Hello, this is President Obama…” before I slammed down the phone.) Although the DNC put out a statement this morning saying this election is about Corzine and not about Obama, seems to me the White House has gone out of its way to make the question of Obama’s influence an issue in our neck-and-neck race.

Christie is a slimeball. But if he wins, I won’t shed a tear because anything that gives Obama even the slightest black eye and sends him the message that he’s not all that is fine with me.

At this point, I’m thoroughly disgusted with both the Democrats and the Republicans. I went the Independent route. I voted for Chris Daggett.

Today is my birthday…

I grew up on the Lower East Side of Manhattan back when the Jewish population still predominated. We lived at 151 Norfolk Street. All the families who lived there were Jewish. However, the super, Charlie Spitry, was Christian. Every year, he’d put up an enormous Christmas tree in the vestibule, beautifully decorated with a miniature village and train set-up underneath. Strange, considering the tenant population.

The building was considered fancy-schmancy because it had something rarely, if ever, found in apartment buildings in the area at that time: an elevator! All well and good. But it had a habit of getting stuck. I avoided using it unless I was with my parents or another adult who lived in the building. Our apartment was on the third floor — Apt. 3A — so walking up wasn’t difficult. It was a one-bedroom. The rent was $42/month.

My dad, an amateur photographer who developed his own photos, took this one of little me in front of the building.

Here I am again in the doorway. A little more grown at about 13. A friend snapped this photo. Note the building’s number on the floor of the entrance.

When I walk the streets of the LES today, there are so many changes that it amazes me that 151 Norfolk is still standing. Sadly, not so fancy/schmancy now.

I grew up surrounded by the loving warmth of my mother’s extended family, both maternal and paternal. My grandparents lived one block away, at 106 Norfolk. In this photo, Dad snapped me sitting on 106’s stoop. I can’t believe those shoes!

Again, I’m amazed that 106 still stands. In far better condition than 151.

My grandparents’ apartment was one flight up (no elevator) and faced the front. The three windows starting from the left belonged to their apartment.

I can’t recall what was in the store front to the left of the stoop. For sure, it wasn’t anything even remotely close to Nurse Bettie, a hip lounge. The ultimate collision of my Lower East Side’s past and its present.

Roundabout Round-Up: 2008-2009 Season

We’ve been Roundabout subscribers for many years. Our tickets for the 2009-2010 are in hand, and we’ve seen the first play of the new season – After Miss Julie, which I’ll talk about in a future post. For now, a short summary of the 2008-2009 season.

The major musical revival was Pal Joey. I’d never seen it staged before, and I don’t recall ever seeing the movie. While certainly not anything near the blockbuster level of some previous Roundabout musicals (1776, Cabaret, and Pajama Game immediately spring to mind), I found Pal Joey very entertaining. Newcomer Michael Risch – who took over when Christopher Hoff left the show — was fine as Joey. For me, the highlight of the show was Stockard Channing’s exposition of what is one of the show’s two most famous song, “Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered.”

Many other famous names strutted across the Roundabout’s three stages.

Frank Langella gave an outstanding, absorbing performance as Sir Thomas More in A Man for All Seasons, richly deserving his Tony nomination.

Matthew Broderick’s performance in The Philanthropist was criticized by some as being anemic. I think he correctly captured the wishy-washy nature of the character he wa portraying. And the play ended with a nice twist.

Cynthia Nixon gave a perky performance in Distracted, a comedy about parents trying to cope with a son who has ADD.

I’ve seen quite a few Hedda Gablers over the years. May Louise Parker’s portrayal was controversial but, nonetheless, interesting.

Nathan Lane and Bill Irwin acted their hearts out as Estragon and Vladimir. But to be blunt, I would just as soon they’d waited for Godot without me! I hate the play! In my opinion, it’s a 15-minute skit stretched to two hours of utter boredom. Have I mentioned that I hate the play?!

I’d never heard of Streamers, a revival David Rabe’s play written in the 1970’s. It takes place in an army barracks during the Viet Nam war, and involves the issues of racism and homosexuality which culminate in shocking brutality. Though there were no famous names in the cast, the acting was fine. One major problem: the last scene went on much too long.

The final show of the season was Tin Pan Alley Rag. I wasn’t expecting much. Turns out, I loved it. It was my favorite show of the season. Yeah, it was kind of hokey. But I’m a sucker for Irving Berlin’s music.

Our Brand New Grand New Grand

Legs and Pedal Waiting for a Body

Coming Off the Truck

Old (in the truck) and New

M Watching the Action

Up the Stairs

Bring on the Legs and Pedal

Attaching the Legs and the Pedal

Unwrapped and Standing Up

Assembling the Piano Bench

It’s a Yamaha!

Let There Be Music!

Exit the Grand Old Lady

When we bought our house more than 40 years ago, my Dad said he’d get us a piano. Notice, he didn’t say “buy,” he didn’t ask us what we wanted, and he didn’t say anything about what kind of a piano it would be. We moved into our newly-built house on December 16, 1969. A few months later, Dad called to say he’d secured the promised piano, and it would be delivered soon.

When it arrived, there was good news and bad news. The good news: It was a grand piano! Not a baby grand, but at a little over 5 feet, a grand. And it would go a long way towards filling up what was a totally empty formal living room. The bad news: It was in horrible condition. Sadly neglected, the cabinet was a mess, and it hadn’t been tuned in who knew how long.

When I called to tell Dad the piano had arrived and about its condition, he admitted he’d never seen it. A client had been looking to dispose of his deceased mother’s furnishings and knowing he’d get bupkes for the piano if he tried to sell it, he gave it to my Dad gratis. Dad only had to pay for shipping.

M was horrified and thought we should get rid of it. But I decided to make some inquiries about the piano. It was an Estey, a brand we’d never heard of. However, I learned that the Estey Piano Company had been for many years a leading manufacturer of fine piano with a factory in the Bronx. Indeed, the plaque inside the piano said: Est’d 1869. New York City.

Though we had no idea exactly how old this Estey was (we guesstimated 40 – 50 years), the knowledgeable people I consulted said the piano had begun life as a high quality instrument and was still viable. Therefore, it was worth refinishing the cabinet and having it tuned.

Refinishing turned it into a handsome piece of furniture around which we eventually furnished the living room. And once it was tuned, the sound was quite fine.

As the years went by, things began to go wrong. Despite having it tuned regularly, little by little, l parts deteriorated. Our tuner would come and fix one thing only to have to return soon after to fix something else.

Broken hammers. Keys sticking. Sluggish action. And, finally, a crack in the sound board.

For several years, I’ve wanted to buy a new piano. Finally, this past week, we did. Yesterday, the Old Grand Lady made way for the new.

Protection

Taped

Removing the Legs and Pedal

Ready to Go

Down the Steps

Farewell!

As excited as I was/am about my new piano, I was a bit sad to see the Grand Old Lady — now around 100 years old — go.

Dining Out: June Through September

In a post back in June, I listed the restaurants we’d been to from January through May and said that it was much more than “normal” for us. Well, based on how often we’ve dined out from the beginning of June through the end of September, looks as though we’ve surpassed that!

June
New York City
Dinner:
La Petite Auberge
Dahba
Nougatine
Brasserie Cognac
Eleven Madison Park

Lunch:
Allegretti
Pearl Oyster Bar

New Jersey
Dinner:
Elements

Lunch:
Shirin Cafe

July
New York City
Dinner:
Aldea
Eleven Madison Park
Eleven Madison Park – Wine Collectors’ Dinner (Private)
La Ripaille

Lunch:
Balthazar
Gascogne – 2

New Jersey
Dinner:
Belford Bistro
Niko’s Trapezi

Lunch:
Shirin Café

August
New York City
Dinner:
Scarpetta – 2
Momofuky Ssam Bar
Chickalicious – Dessert
‘inoteca Gramercy
Primola
Nougatine
Adour
Mari Vanna
Veritas
Eleven Madison Park – 2

Lunch:
Eleven Madison Park
Ethos

Brunch:
Balthazar

September
New York City
Dinner:
Spigolo
Atlantic Grill
Chola
Momofuku Noodle Bar
Allegretti
Tavern Room at Gramercy Tavern
Aldea
SD26
Pamplona
Picholine
Corton
Veritas
SHO Shaun Hergatt

Lunch:
Eleven Madison Park – 2
Daisy May’s BBQ – 2
Shake Shack
Tocqueville
DBGB
Co. Pizza

Eleven Madison Park: (More Than) Ready for Its Close-up!

May 1, 2009 – Noon

One week ago, the stars finally aligned, and our favorite NYC restaurant, Eleven Madison Park, was awarded four stars by the New York Times’ Frank Bruni.

The rumors started several weeks ago. A tipster informed Eater that Bruni had been spotted at EMP not once, not twice, but three times within a short span of time. Could it be that before he exited his position of August 19th he was going to review EMP for the third time during his 5-year tenure? Inquiring minds – especially mine – wanted to know! So, when we had dinner at EMP not long after that Eater post, I addressed the question of whether the staff had spotted Bruni to Robert Kilstrum, one of the dining room managers. He demurred saying, “I’ve not seen him.” Maybe so, I thought, but there was something in his tone and body language that said otherwise. And I could certainly understand his reluctance to divulge the information even to two of EMP’s most loyal patrons and supporters. Perhaps, he feared a jinx….

Fast forward to last Tuesday afternoon. I received an e-mail from our friend, the ulterior epicure. It said as follows:

FOUR STARS!! I mean, it has to be, right? Why else would he bother re-reviewing it?!?!

The “Four Stars!!” linked to Eater, which had posted that Bruni was, indeed, going to be reviewing EMP in Wednesday’s paper. I agreed that four stars were inevitable. My reasoning: It would be pointless for Bruni to re-review EMP and give it three stars again. No way did it deserve to be demoted. So, the only direction possible was up!

Next thing I know, there’s a message in my in-box from Daniel Humm, et al. It read:

Dear Friend of Eleven Madison Park,

We’re excited to announce that The New York Times will be reviewing Eleven Madison Park in tomorrow’s paper (Wednesday, August 12th). As the review will be published online this evening, we’re gathering at the restaurant (whatever the results!) with EMP’s family and friends and we’d love for you to join us. Please stop by tonight, anytime from 10pm on…

Hope to see you,

Daniel, Will, John and the entire EMP Family

Although M and I had just come back to NJ the night before after having spent two days in NYC, we immediately decided to return. But before we left, we made a reservations for dinner at EMP the next evening, knowing in our hear-of-hearts that the results were going to be favorable and that we would be dining at a four-star restaurant.

We walked into EMP a little after 9. THE NEWS had already been published. It was Chef Humm, himself, who told us. Beaming! As were the rest of the management team: Will Guidara, John Ragan, Sam Lipp, Robert Kihlstom, and Megan Vaughan. Danny Meyer was, of course, in the house, and we congratulated him. We had met him several months before when during one of our lunched, he came to our table to say hello.

Dinner service had not ended, so some of the staff were still attending to their tables. Actually, we had not had dinner, figuring we’d grab something at the bar. However, they’d shut down food service there early in anticipation of the celebration. When we mentioned our situation to one of the managers, the next thing we knew, one of the servers came out of the kitchen with a huge bowl of freshly made gougères. We munched on those as M enjoyed some Champagne, which, in addition to liquor, was flowing freely.

People kept piling in, mostly young men and women, many of whom we suspected were friends of the staff. A few former managers were there, including Arleene, now General Manager at Corton; and Paul, who is working for Daniel Boulud’s organization (recently returned from Vancouver, where he helped open dbBistro there and is now maitre d’ at dbBistro here).

M commented that the place was rockin’ as though it were Yankee Stadium. And that was even before the d.j. set up shop a little after 10 p.m.

We enjoyed EMP when Kerry Heffernan was in the kitchen, going there occasionally for dinner, but more often for weekend brunch. However, when Daniel Humm stepped into the kitchen little more than two-and-a-half years ago, it was for us, literally love at first bite! We became regulars, actively promoting EMP to anyone interested in fine dining. Insisting for the longest time that it deserved four stars, we were incensed at Bruni awarding it only three when he reviewed it after Chef Humm’s arrival, and adding insult to injury by making it a joint review with The Modern’s Bar Room. When Chef Humm urged us to go to per se, insisting that it was on a level all its own, we came back to EMP after our meal there and told him, point blank, that while per se’s cuisine was superb, in our opinion, his was its equal. The man’s a freakin’ culinary genius!

What was especially heartwarming about attending this celebration was so many staff members telling us how instrumental WE were in getting them to this moment. However, despite whatever part we may have played, in the end, it is Chef Humm, his superb kitchen staff, and every member of what we consider to be one of best front of the house teams anywhere, who have done all the heavy lifting. No group of people is nicer and more deserving of these four stars than they are. As we’ve so often told them, they have always been and always will be four-stars plus to us!

We left EMP that evening stoked about what was going to be – as we predicted — our first 4-star (Yes!!) dinner the next evening at what our family and friends jokingly refer to as our “local cafeteria”!

A report about that dinner in an upcoming post.

Balthazar: “Why did we wait so long to go here?”

That’s what M and I kept saying to each other as we relaxed over a late lunch in early July. We loved everything about Balthazar: the attractive brasserie-perfect décor, which includes a capacious raw bar in the rear with the mirrored wall above on which are listed the extensive seafood selections; the ambiance, with its vibrancy and the comfortable feel of a spot that’s been there forever, though it’s been just 12 years; and, most of all the food! (More about that in a moment.) So, why was that our first visit? The only reason I can come up with for having neglected Balthazar is its location. It’s in SoHo. Well, nothing at all wrong with that – except we rarely eat “downtown.” By that, I mean it’s well below Gramercy/Flatiron. Sure, we occasionally pop down to the Lower East Side (my old stomping grounds where I grew up during the ‘40’s and ‘50’s) to scratch our pastrami itch at Katz’s, to pick up appetizing at the unparalleled Russ & Daughters, and to satisfy our sweet tooth with gelato at Il Laboratoria and/or a cupcake at Sugar Sweet Sunshine. But Tribeca and SoHo, as well as the Village, somehow manage to travel well under our restaurant-going radar. Ridiculous! Especially for born-and-bred “Noo Yawkers” like M and me.

While it has remained wildly popular with both natives and tourists since it opened in April 1997, Balthazar does have its detractors. Two criticisms have been that seating is very tight, and the noise level is exceedingly high. The former I can put up with, but noise is another matter entirely. Insanely high noise levels in restaurants drive me, well, insane, so I do my best to avoid getting myself knowingly caught in that situation. Thus, when planning our first visit to Balthazar, I decided that since they stay open all afternoon (they do switch to a smaller menu at 3), a late lunch around 2:30 mid-week would probably offer the best chance of avoiding a high noise level as the place would likely not be jammed, especially on a Monday. When I called that morning to ask if we needed reservations at that hour, my presumption was confirmed when I was told we could just walk in. Splendid!

The weather being pleasantly warm, we took a leisurely 40-minute stroll downtown. Entering Balthazar at exactly 2:30, we were cordially greeted by a trio of attractive hostesses. The one who escorted us to a table bore an eerily striking resemblance to one of J’s best friends. Our table was situated quite close to the front entrance, at the corner of a banquette. However, a knee-wall provided separation and protection from the comings and goings. Plus, there was nobody at the adjacent table (which remained vacant throughout our stay), so no sardine-like feel. Banquette corner seating does tend to be more roomy, as was the case here, and we had a wide view of the room directly in front of us. (Note: My attempt at taking a photo of the interior was thwarted when our waitress saw me raising my camera and hustled over to inform me that it was verboten. No such prohibition re: food photos, though.) From our vantage point, about half the tables were occupied. The noise level was a bit buzzy, which as it should be at a brasserie. Still, it was, as I had hoped, quite comfortable.

There was no shortage of service personnel on the floor. Our young waitress took care of us in a pleasant, efficient, no-nonsense manner. She even went so far as to have the soiled paper table topper changed to a fresh one between the main course and dessert.

Anticipating our dinner that evening at Aldea, we decided to eat lightly. Towards that end, we agreed to share everything. We had each looked at the menu on the website in the morning and, independently, had reached the same conclusion as to which main course to order: Monday’s plat du jour, the lamb navarin. The bowl set before us contained a very generous portion – more than adequate for sharing — choc-a-bloc with pieces of lamb and assorted vegetables in a red wine-infused sauce. The lamb was fork-tender; the vegetables were cooked perfectly – neither too mushy nor too al dente – and the sauce was of the cannot-leave-a-drop-left variety of deliciousness. Needless to say, we made quick work of finishing every bite and drop.

Sharing a shrimp cocktail is one of our favorite ways to start a meal, and we had no hesitation about ordering it here. We asked our waitress how many shrimp there were, and she said five; however, when they arrived, there were six. Three for each of us! Perfect! Half-way embedded in ice cubes to keep them chilled, these were not puny shrimp but, happily, of oxymoronic size, firm and sweet. A little squirt of lemon juice and accompanied by excellent cocktail sauce, which had just the right level of spiciness, these crustaceans made for a very fine start.

Speaking of starting, let’s talk about that basket of bread which arrived shortly after we were seated. Oh, my! The plain baguette was wonderful, but the signature pain de siegle just blew me away. So much so that after we finished our lunch, we stopped into the bakery next door so I could take some home. It now supersedes the “Rosemary Round” from Amy’s as my favorite bread. Waiting for our shrimp cocktail to arrive, I slathered the excellent butter on both breads and chomped merrily away. M being similarly enamored, we easily cleaned out the basket.

We had intended to end the meal by sharing the profiteroles. But the plum and blackberry tarte du jour intrigued us, so we decided to order both.

The tart’s ultra-thin crust was flaky; a thick, juicy layer of plums was spread on top, and three huge blackberries crowned it all. All together, a tasty tart! There was a little fruit sauce on the side, but it was really superfluous.

Everything about the profiteroles — the chou puffs, the vanilla ice cream, and the warm chocolate sauce poured tableside – was to our liking. A classic French bistro dessert done perfectly! My only regret is that there were only three. I would not have complained if I could have had a second one all to myself. But fair is fair, so we split the third one. Obviously, the solution next time: a whole order just for me!

And there certainly will be a next time. Whatever faults some people might have with Balthazar, they were not on display during our lunch. We left there feeling supremely satisfied and eagerly anticipating going back.

Life is just a bowl of cherries…

…or homemade Bing cherry sorbet…

…or a “Red, White, and Blue” Dessert for July 4th: Bing cherries, NJ blueberries, and CA strawberries topped with coconut and homemade Bing cherry sorbets.