Here and There

Friday began with a simple pastry breakfast in Somerville. Then a quick posting and off to South Station to catch the bus back to New York.

Only thing I’ll say about this return trip is that I didn’t have to sit next to (and therefore, ingest the aural and olfactory pollution of) a Pringles-smacking kid. I finished reading Moyers on America: A Journalist and His Times.

I’ve admired Moyers as long as I can remember, and his was the type of book I like reading in a head voice that doubles as the author’s accent (did the same with My Life, Clinton’s epic autobiography).

Moyers on America is folksy, like all things Moyers, but it cuts deeply in its discussion of the importance of the news in any democracy. Moyers is at his Southern Baptist best when he gets pissed off, though. His vitriol is of the “damned lies” stripe. Kinda like if Grandpa were around and really smart and engaged.

Landed in New York around 5 p.m. and made my way to Nolita to meet friends. Did some walking with them, some hanging out just outside the stores they dropped into, and started reading Profiles in Courage, by John F. Kennedy. I’m still in Kennedy’s somewhat exhaustive discourse about the nature of public service. John Quincy Adams is up as the first profile.

Then for dinner, one of the main reasons for my excitement in coming to New York this trip: Mario Batali’s Otto Pizzeria.

We started with a glass of Roseta to cool us off from the balmy weather outside. We joked that it was more or less like a sophisticated Strawberry Hill. Then on to the grub: Batali’s famous Lardo in bruschetta form. It’s sliced thinly like cheese, and is, of course, delicious. Isn’t everything delicious with lard?

Then on to pizza with prosciutto, mushrooms, and asparagus; mussels and garlic pasta; roasted beets; and olive oil gelato. The dinner wine was a 1999 Petit verdot, which was smoky, full-bodied, and smooth. Not to mention delicious and with a medium-high alcohol content.

Overall, the entire experience was one of my all-time best. The atmosphere was classy but not pretentious or stuffy. We heard Neutral Milk Hotel, Michael Jackson, and other laissez-faire music. I was called “dude” and “young gentleman” by our waitress. The lighting was medium, the space was more than adequate (a miracle in any NYC eatery), and I had a great time.

Up for day six: brunch at Enid’s, then on to various galleries in Chelsea and later, the Whitney for their biennial (and Daniel Johnston). Dinner is unknown, but will most likely make it into the day six post tomorrow.

You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.