a lengthy meal

From July 12 to July 25, it's Restaurant Week in Manhattan. Misnomer notwithstanding (Restaurant Two Weeks doesn't have the same ring to it), it is a chance for food lovers big and small to put on their fancy pants and wine and dine at New York's swankiest eateries. There is a prix fixe menu at all participating restaurants. 35 dollars for appetizer, entree, and dessert. The catch, and the bit of marketing genius, is that the wine portion is not included. 35 dollars for dinner and nearly double that for alcohol. But it's worth it.

On Wednesday night, after a Darlingside concert that looked more like a Williams 5th year reunion - a great show that was evocative of both the Decemberists and Vampire Weekend, with a non-insistent indie-funk vibe that mixed well with the drinks, the hip clothing, and the relaxed, post-liberal arts degree chatter - Augusta, Yanie, Margot, Eve and myself headed to Rayuela, a chic "Estilo Libre Latino" inspired restaurant on the Lower East side.


Two bottles of wine, four courses each, an adorable Polish waiter, talk that included discussions of Babeland (if you are a woman and you haven't been, you should go), French men, beautiful women, and muscle relaxers, and three hours later, we lightly tripped into the night air. (Note the romantic use of "lightly tripped". It's probably a euphemism). With promises of a reunion in France, we made our way to our respective subways. It was, to the last drop of wine, exactly the kind of evening that makes me both content with the present and excited about the future.

I recently came across a passage in Jane Eyre quoting Solomon:

"Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, then a stalled ox and hatred within".

With all due respect to Solomon, a dinner of red velvet cake and gazpacho where love is is even better.