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Monday, July 21, 2008

Review: Weekend Of Debauchery

Old friends visited from Louisville this weekend, and thanks to that bluegrass connection, we got taken care of very nicely at Elettaria, an opened-this-year joint in the village that occupies a West 8th Street address once home to a club at which Jimi Hendrix played.

Our boy Eric knows the chef there, Akhtar, also a Louisville native. Our table of four started with three appetizers and I think we got five. All were excellent, but I especially recommend the scallops (celery root puree, oxtail, lemon, cilantro) and the fried quail (pomegranate molasses, bacon, fried egg).

The entrees were just as memorable. Everyone but me shared a little; I tried a bite of the duck (tender, flavorful) and the bavette (my least favorite, though not bad). I, however, had the pork loin, which by nature is obviously a semi-salty meat. But prepared a little on the sweet side Friday made it the best dinner I'd had in quite some time.

These accomplishments were created in a wide-open kitchen at the back of the restaurant. Between it and the front door, all booths and tables were full less than 30 minutes after we were seated for our 8 p.m. reservation.

The atmosphere was excellent, and the crowd seemed a good mix of city pretties and more savvy restaurant veterans. Isn't that always the case?

I was so caught up in the good food and conversation with old buds that I don't even remember if they played music. The expensive bottles of wine Eric and Tim bought probably played a small role as well.

After this face-feeding session, it was off to the Bowery Bar, PJ Clarke's and the Auction House. My friend Diane and some of her girls were out and were good sports, especially once Tim assured them finish-line tickets at next year's Derby.

There's not much to say about Saturday. We hit the Yankees game, which really was the purpose of the visit for these friends. First pitch: 1 o'clock. Temperature: officially, hot as hell.

We did our part to hydrate; that's for sure. And we spilled over to a bar across the street from the stadium once the ninth inning ended in a tie. Extra innings, my ass.

And then here's how the rest of the day went: Came back, picked up pizza, fell asleep, woke up, showered and then Pat, Eric and Tim went out. I was staying in.

For an hour.

So I caught back up with them and we hit the bars at both W hotels, then of course the Coffee Shop for last call. At the second W (The Living Room Lounge),, the four of us had an awkwardly boring exchange with four gals out on a bachelorette party.

Have you ever met someone and before you ask where she's from, you just have a feeling she calls Connecticut home? Well, that's what happened at this place, and it was as comfortable as a Michael Scott pep talk. I actually liked it, watching the dainty priss squirm with her BFFs. Dude, it's OK to say hello. Not everyone is hitting on you.

Perhaps worse than that moment was one round earlier, in the basement of some overcrowded joint, where we wondered what was taking Eric so long to get us drinks at the bar. So I tightened the chinstrap and went in, finding Eric finalizing the payment for four filled-to-the-rim martini glasses. Only these martinis were pink. That's right, four guys out on the town, drinking cosmopolitans, pinkies raised and everything. "Dorks And The City," coming to a theater near you this summer.

We capped off a good weekend of partying by picking up some very late Hot & Crusty and cramming it on the roof. The neighbor with no blinds across the street wasn't yet home.

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1 Comments:

At 8:11 PM EDT, Blogger SusanLC said...

"Dude, it's OK to say hello. Not everyone is hitting on you."

Classic.

 

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