After arriving at Penn Station, it only takes minutes to hop to Union Square with Metro Magic and skip a few blocks to One Lucky Duck's Gramercy location. Which makes it my go-to lunch haunt. I fuel up for an afternoon of walking and potential carousing later on.
I stay light and refreshing with the Tortilla Wraps. I nibble an Orreo cookie for dessert. While both are very satisfying, I regret not getting a shake instead or the Hempseed Portabella Burger. You know how it is when you order something that is perfectly fine but by the time you get it you already feel like you ordered the wrong thing and want something else?
That's how I felt all day. Whiny and sullen.
What would it take to perk up my spirit? Trying on second-skin wax fabric J Brands? My first guilty iced coffee in ages? There goes my attempt to stay hydrated.
Doing my best "Forlorn" look in my favorite place
Finally I met up with Jason outside of Babycakes. His idea, not mine. The last thing I needed right now was people and their delicious cupcakes. He wanted a slice of iced chocolate banana loaf to go and I said FINE, I will clear the frosting off of this gluten-free red velvet and then toss the rest of it in the trash like a true brat who does not appreciate the kindest baked goodies in all of the world. Models glared at me for doing this.
After catching up and Jason yanking all of the smiles out of me that he could, we had Angelica Kitchen to look forward to for dinner. As much as I have looked forward to finally eating here, I was not impressed with the meal. We ordered the Curried Cashew Spread to start. It was like a savory nut butter but I just wasn't crazy about it. I ordered the Norimaki of the Day, which had seitan and cabbage. Jason had sweet potato soup and a half Tempeh Reuben. Both were okay for a post-gym lunch, but not for a night when you needed a wow meal.
I snapped a few pics with my new Droid X. The camera is the best I've ever had on a phone but even it fell short on Sunday.
The highlight of the meal was the Angelica Cornbread. It was grainy and rustic and I could put away quite a few slices of it. If I lived here I would live on this stuff.
A drink was in order and we ventured a few blocks away to Death & Co. The night could still bring good things, but I sent my first cocktail back. The bartender gave me an "Are you Kidding Me? I could mix drinks while undergoing brain surgery, you little speck of blonde over there." I used my facial muscles to communicate back to him with "I'm not in the mood for your Maraschino tricks, boy. Can you guys just open a bottle of champagne?"
The champagne cocktail gets half of my attention. There are two bad dates going on at each side of our table.
We duck out to Brooklyn to a Sailor Jerry party at Brooklyn Bowl and all I am thinking is how much I want to be back home.
I am sorry, New York, I am usually better than this. I will make it up to you.