Home-Style Cooking

 Back from another successful trip searching for cultchur in NYC. One bad meal, two great museums, three swell plays. And even the meal wasn't that bad, as long as you don't count the food. Let's start with the meal.

It was a joint called Carmine's (you've heard of it, right?) in the Theater District - just down from Sardi's.  Apparently, it's a chain (here). Of course, you don't expect clip joints in the Times Square vicinity to be all that good. Gotta say: Carmine's went the extra step. I would rather have eaten at Church's Chicken.

It was a crush when we got there, but we scored two stools at the bar, and broke our January liquor fast with two perfectly poured Negronis. Five points for bartending. We were seated at a nice table near the window in the front of the house after a not-unreasonable wait. We each ordered a glass of wine that came in a a hey-we're-just-a-homestyle-Italian joint pair of glasses. Small-ish glasses. Three points. The waiter was what you'd expect in a hey-we're-just etc. He informed us that Carmine's is famous for it's (home-style, blah blah) massive plates of food - apparently newcomers to the place expect normal-sized plates of food. Forewarned, we enquired about the hot antipasti appetizer and were assured that it was ample for two. We ordered the antipasti and a couple of stuffed artichokes.

Oh, what a sad decision. The artichokes were heavily breaded and cooked to within an inch of composting. One of the two had literally sagged into the plate. The remaining giant platter of miscellaneous items was variously over-baked, over-fried, over-breaded, over-greased, over-cheesed, over-sauced and 1. too hot, or 2. too cold (mostly the latter). We have never had such a mis-mash of nearly inedible stuff in our long dining experience. Minus five points, and minus two for the not-so-hot waiter who wisely did not ask us how we enjoyed our meal as he disposed of half of it and delivered our check. Total = one point. But, hey, it's a big family-style-Italian joint point. My guess is that the wise guys go there for the drinks.

We wound up the night (after a terrific play that will be the subject of a later post) at Sardi's. From the ridiculous to the sublime. It was such a delight to be drinking a Sardi's upstairs bar, uncrowded and well-served (our bartender is studying to be a biochemist), that we could barely tear ourselves away. Thus endth our dry January, and the first day of our latest  travels.