vip in the city

The ladies from Lyons

There are few things SYB enjoys more than assisting tourists: hardly a week goes by without his proactively offering directions to bewildered-looking foreigners. German speakers, in particular, will capture his attention… as will fetching French women, as was the case with RM’s guests, whom we met at his St. Patrick’s Day soirée in Sunnyside. MB and JA were in town for just over a week, and fortunate I think to have such attentive and enthusiastic boosters for New York City at their disposal.

I crossed paths with the touring trio on Sixth Avenue, as they were heading into the MoMA to take advantage of Target Free Friday Nights when museum admission is complimentary from 4–8PM. All other times, it’s a rather steep $20, which explains this insane queue for entry.

So despite the fact that my MoMA membership card would earn me line-jumping privileges, I knew that every single one of these people would make it inside the museum eventually, and I didn’t particularly want to be there when they did. Not when I could check out the acclaimed “Design and the Elastic Mind” exhibit any other time… through May 12, anyway.

I met up with SYB, MB and JA a couple of hours later at Amazing 66, where we gave our visitors an authentic taste of Chinatown. Tonight’s menu overlapped much of the Mardi Gras meal -– with the short rib-stuffed pumpkin and steamed whole flounder the unqualified hits of the night — but in the excitement of feasting, I neglected to order the “Salad Walnut Prawns” — sorry, HYB! Afterwards, the nine of us made the obligatory post-dinner visit to the Chinatown Ice Cream Factory around the corner.

After the couples took their leave, it was up to the B brothers and me to plan out the rest of our evening. The night was still young, but, as it turned out, so were our guests; JA was a couple weeks shy of her 21st birthday, which strictly limited our options. Three native New Yorkers, and not one of us could immediately think of a place to spend a Friday night that did not involve drinking, or that at least required guests to be of drinking age. Embarrassing, actually – and a testament to how very long it had been since any of us had to take such matters into consideration.

I remembered what fun we’d had at J’s birthday celebration in December, and suggested Fat Cat Billiards on Christopher, both for its live music and its low-key vibe. Under 21 welcome! The $3 cover got us into the basement saloon, stocked with pool and ping pong tables, shufflepuck and foosball (“baby-foot” in France, I learned), chess and board games galore. The women, though, seemed most entranced by the live performances, and the well-over-21 among us were more than happy to settle into the worn couches for the next couple of hours to catch the sets by The Gospel Queens of Brooklyn and one very talented jazz octet.

Tags: Amazing 66, Chinatown, Fat Cat Billiards, jazz, midtown, MoMA, West Village

Rising up

We crossed the West Side Highway at lunchtime this afternoon to attend the “Winter’s Palate” tasting festival at The World Financial Center — the cooler weather version of last July’s “Summer’s Palate.”

Except that when we arrived at the Winter Garden, the atrium was suspiciously quiet, save for the usual scattered assortment of suits and tourists. Where were the promised lobster ravioli and sushi, silky gelato and mini-burgers, “prepared to please the most discriminating palates”?

After making some inquiries, we finally got our answer from the staff at Godiva Chocolate: the event had been canceled, but apparently not removed from the WFC’s online Calendar of Events. Grrr.

Well, there’s always Ho Yip to fall back on.

View of the construction activity at Ground Zero:

This spring, the frame of the Freedom Tower will rise above street level for the first time, with steel that has made its long journey from Luxembourg (where the columns are forged and cast) to Lynchburg, Virginia (where they’re cut to size), to a final home in Lower Manhattan.

Watch the progress of the project via live webcam.

Tags: construction, Financial District, Ground Zero, World Financial Center

Noodle Pudding

After work, CF and I headed into Brooklyn Heights for dinner at one of her favorite neighborhood spots. Just one stop from Wall Street, up the unreliable elevators and north along Henry Street, we came upon a signless storefront with a wrought-iron picture window, near pretty Cranberry Street.

The name of the restaurant is Noodle Pudding — and it’s no secret to Brooklyn Heights residents, who pack the place regularly. Contrary to what the name might suggest, it is not a Jewish deli, but a trattoria. The dimly lit dining room was warmly appointed with mahogany accents, glowing chandeliers, artwork-laden ocher and exposed brick walls. Solid, inexpensive Italian fare with pastas in the $9-13 range, meat entrées topping out around $22 for the Osso Buco. In 2006, the New Yorker deemed Noodle Pudding “the epitome of a decent neighborhood restaurant.”

According to CF, who dines here on a near-weekly basis, the restaurant’s specials are consistently good. Her favorite among them is the pasta with wild boar ragù (also a specialty of The Violent Femmes’ Brian Ritchie as I recall) — this endorsement coming from a vegetarian. That particular dish wasn’t on the menu tonight, so I was not tempted to break Lent. (Five more days until Easter…!) I can, however, recommend my Strozza Preti Alla Sicilian (pasta with eggplant, tomato and ricotta), which was fresh and simply prepared, accompanied by a very reasonably priced glass of Montepulciano d’Abruzzo — my favorite everyday wine of late. (Pair it with pizza!)

About that confounding name: according to The Rough Guide to New York City Restaurants, Noodle Pudding is so called because the proprietor, Antonio Migliaccio, is known to his Jewish friends as “Mr. Kugel,” which is the rough Italian-to-Yiddish translation of his surname. So many of Migliaccio’s friends ribbed him over his choice of restaurant name that he decided to forgo a sign in front. ”Honestly,” he said, ”I got embarrassed.“

The dessert offerings included a bread pudding ($5), but oddly enough, not a single noodle pudding.

Tile mural inside the Clark Street subway station via the entrance of the Hotel St. George, once the largest hotel in New York City:

Tags: Brooklyn, Brooklyn Heights, Italian, Noodle Pudding, trattorias