It was a dazzling week in which Desperately Seeking Paris found bits of beauty everywhere —be it on the town, in the ‘hood or at home.
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Fans of ‘Mountain Bird’ will be delighted to hear it’s been sighted at 251 East 110th Street. Until now, the ‘bird’ has refused to stay on one perch. Notwithstanding its popularity and critical acclaim, Mountain Bird, originally at East 145th Street in Harlem, was forced to close because of lease issues. After taking a year sabbatical, the owners have reopened in collaboration with the events organization Tastings Social.
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It’s time for she who is Desperately Seeking Paris to say au revoir, if only for a few months. Summer draws nigh and with the temperature rising we New Yorkers have moved out of the winter doldrums and into the summertime highs, all in the course of a week.
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It was a week to celebrate! For starters it was the 2nd Anniversary of the publication of Veronica’s Grave. These past three years, including that leading up to publication, have been an amazing learning experience with a steep learning curve. Every bit as difficult as, say, earning a doctoral degree. So, you want to write a book? As the late Joan Rivers would say: Can we talk?
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What better time to walk the streets of any great city than when it’s snowing or raining? It's that precipitation—be it rain, sleet, hail, snow or fog—has a way of blurring the sharp edges of a metropolis, slowing the pace of its inhabitants walking with downcast eyes, and lowering the decibel count. When the everyday hustle-bustle fades, the city takes a deep breath.
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After nine years, the Michelin starred La Goulue has returned to the swank Upper East Side, opening a few blocks from its former location. When it closed the doors in 2009, its regular habitués, especially the ladies-who-lunch, felt forsaken. Where would they go to shake off a case of "Missing Paris Blues’? Who could satisfy a craving for the fabulous cheese soufflé?
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On a blustery winter day, one calling for hoods, mufflers and gloves, a friend and I found ourselves on lower Fifth Avenue in the Flatiron district. After a bit of shopping, all we wanted to do was find a place to have a relaxing lunch—perhaps a cozy ‘French.’ Where to go?
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It was a night to celebrate, so we took ourselves off to Majorelle, which opened in March in The Lowell hotel on the Upper East Side. Charles Masson, who for forty years stood at the helm of his family’s old-style French restaurant, La Grenouille, has launched this dazzling new French with Moroccan touches in the space previously occupied by The Post House, an old-line steakhouse.
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One of the great things about being a flâneuse, one who loves nothing better than taking in the passing scene, is that there’s no end to the surprises -- neither in New York or Paris. So, it was the other day while running errands, when I was brought up short at the sight of Le Moulin à Café....
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It was a brilliant summer day, the temperature climbing into the 80s. Entering the dining room of Café Boulud, I wondered if the air conditioning was working. It wasn’t cool enough for me, but then few New York City restaurants are. Having lived off-and-on in Florida for fifteen years, I can vouch for southern expertise in turning an overheated dining room into a chilly igloo, at the flick of a thermostat. And doing so night after night.
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One of the seldom-mentioned pleasures of being a published author is meeting other published authors. And the day I had lunch with the convivial Sande Boritz Berger, author of The Sweetness, an award-winning memoir of guilt and survival, was no exception.
Where should we go?
It’s gotta’ be French!
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On St Patrick’s Day, where better to celebrate than at Balthazar, the lively French brasserie in SOHO owned by the restaurateur Kevin McNally.
For twenty years, Balthazar has been packing in the crowds from 7:30 in the morning until 1:00 in the morning, a mind-boggling accomplishment. But what accounts for the on-going popularity in this restaurant-fickle city?
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Hello, Guys and Gals!
Thank you so much for all the birthday wishes! It was an amazing day filled with greeting cards, email cards, flowers (even my local florist sent flowers!), phone calls, and emails from relatives and friends all over the country. Many of whom have been celebrating with me for a lifetime.
And, of course, there were messages from Facebook friend, who have entered my life more recently, bringing with them richness and warmth. I’m grateful for everyone who made the day special. Especially for my husband who wined me and dined me at the fabulous candlelit Le Coucou.
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"Shaken, not stirred" is a catchphrase attributed to # 007, the British Secret Service agent James Bond, one he used when ordering his martini. The phrase would appear in many of the Bond films, but was not spoken by Bond himself (played by Sean Connery) until Goldfinger (1964). And, according to my source, Wikipedia, in the film You Only Live Twice (1967), the drink was wrongly offered as "stirred, not shaken.” As the martini is my favorite cocktail, I’ve had plenty of opportunities to use that phrase to great effect. The excellent classic martini above was imbibed at a neighborhood "French", one I've yet to share with you.
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