Mmm, Queens.
We took Ms. Pants, my Hungarian friend & Dave's roommate, to a Mets game.
Of course, this is before their wicked postseason collapse!
She really likes the foam finger!
Last look at Shea
Dave is disingenuous. Angela is quite serious.
Goodbye Shea! (Go Phillies!)
Enjoying my shrimp wonton noodle broth with wanton abandon…
(wearing a Theory top, Swiss Army watch, vintage earrings)
The Giants game was on the tube, but so was the RNC…there seemed to be a war over the remote. No worries for true-blooded Americans will always pick the redskin over any politics.
Rachel, Alex & I at Rudy'sP.S. There are ONLY condiments in the fridge a la “Fight Club”…
My parents own a restaurant, I was once a decent waitress, and I understand what it takes to keep the customer happy, even if the customer isn’t pleasant to begin with. Sure, waiters need to know they aren’t entitled to tips but some customers think they are entitled to treat their waiters very badly. This is posturing I just can’t handle.
I’ve been living in New York (the state) for four loathsome years but have been chippered by the Big Apple for five glorious months. The culture’s great, people are nice, I love my work, all in all it seems a good mold for me. But let me give you a little backstory to the whole point of today’s post.
I’m a huge foodie. Cooking is my therapy. I do it every night when I get home, even if it takes 2 hours to get dinner for myself and my (thankful) beau. Some things (like orange chicken) get a sniff then tossed in the trash (yes, poor poor starving children) and some, like penne tossed with spinach and chicken sausage topped with goat cheese get scarfed down like oysters on the half shell. So these are two things, the cooking and the waitressing, the ultimate duality of the food service industry and appreciation for all the woes and $50 tips that come with them, that allows me to comment on BAD SERVICE.
To be blunt (my forte): with the number of rich people living in New York, why are bartenders pissy and genuinely aghast if you tip a dollar or two for a drink? They probably make more money than I do and I don’t see the point in tipping $5-10 for a $19 drink. Some people can afford that tip but sadly, not I. Am I completely wrong on this end? I hold the European perspective on this issue…maybe if Americans were more interested in paying living wages to bartenders and waiters, there wouldn’t be extremes in behavior. Either some are too eager to please or they’ll dump out your drink and replace it with water (true story). Like the New York Times article, I’m a little “over” waiters telling me to “enjoy” myself. Don’t be so presumptuous.
Interestingly enough, I’ve never had a bad restaurant experience in New York. I haven’t graced the City’s finer tables but for the most part it’s been very delicious…I’m still daydreaming about Periyali’s succulent lamb chops. Casa’s Cuscuz Paulista and Feijoada have me pining for a sweet Brasilero to whisk me into her kitchen and teach me how to make cornbread the way Oaxaca likes it! Pardon me while I step back into my reality; I’ll make a point to describe my cooking (including recipes for my domestically challenged friends…you know who you are!) and the restaurants I’m going to. I’ll include bars…but you know, only if the bartenders are attentive.
Speaking of bars and food, I went to see the new movie “Juno” last night with Laura Brooke and Shagun at the Lincoln Center theater on 66th and Broadway. In October, I had gone with Alex to see “Carmen” at the New York City Opera and that was the last time I was in the area. The movie was ridiculously funny, but I agree with Fresh Air’s David Edelstein about how it’s trying to be a “chick-flick Rushmore” and how director Jason Reitman (of the Reitmans) and writer Diablo Cody want teenagers to buy the soundtrack. I’m not that far removed from 16 (i tell myself) and maybe Edelstein is an old fart who has a bone to pick with feisty chicks and music, instead of plot, moving the narrative along…well I won’t give away my entire review.
After the film, the three of us were walking around Lincoln Center, freezing. Stepped into Fiorello’s for a drink at their cozy looking bar. The bar looks like a buffet-with yummy looking dishes like frittata and grilled zucchini. I wanted to recommend this place if you’re up at Lincoln Center and want tasty pre-opera pizza. We flirted a little with the bartender and we got cheese, tomatoes and olives to snack on as well as bread. After we paid the bill we were even treated with a little dessert wine! Menu seemed very Euro-American but I’ll give them many points for being completely accomodating. Overall, tres fabulous…when’s the next indie film coming out!?
After four years of frat parties, crush parties, study parties, date parties, birthday parties and pretty much every other excuse to have a party while at college, I’m an official grown up (with a “job” and everything) living in the city and talking about it..now in my life after Syracuse
I’m Catie (hi) and I moved to NYC in July 2007 because I couldn’t stand the idea of living in Frederick, Maryland (no offense, just 13 years is enough time there) and I enjoy spending half my monthly salary on rent! For all its faults, New York City is the place to be. The motto is “Work Hard, Play Hard”–and they’re serious. Make 60 mil in one day? Who cares, the guy next to you made 200 and he’s buying the bar Ketel One shots. There’s always the upside and the brighter side but you’re always surrounded by the downside as well; just ask the man who draws your portrait on the 1 train.
There’s noone in particular I’m shooting this out to so I hope whoever stumbles across it finds it amusing enough to think about. I’ll be writing about my live-in boyfriend (don’t barf just yet), travel, politics, my job, websites and other commentary/drivel. Comments are welcome and appreciated.
Here goes.
At first, weary and most unadventurously, moving to NYC was more a necessity than an “Oh- My- God- I’ve- Always- Wanted- To- Live- Here” moment. Not looking forward to the potentially millions of resumes I’ll be needing to send out, I want to bask in doing nothing for a little while. Motivated to come here by my live-in boyfriend’s acceptance to hoity-toity prestigious Columbia University, I felt a little awkward at first. Really? I am I “that girl” who follows around her boyfriend after only three months of knowing him? Eesh.
