Art & Culture Colorado Denver Hotels & Lodging Restaurants Travel: Art & Culture Colorado Denver Hotels & Lodging Restaurants Travel
by maribeth
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More LoDo Love
Larimer Square (photo courtesy of DMCVB)
My late-August jaunt was such a flash trip to Denver that I didn’t have time to hit my favorite haunts, most of which are located in LoDo, Denver’s historic Lower Downtown, a 26-block area between the main part of downtown and Union Station. This section is fun to explore by foot so that you can best take in its abundance of high western Victorian buildings, many of which house interesting stores, art galleries, restaurants, bars and hotels.
Colorado Denver Restaurants Romance & Relationships Shopping Travel: Colorado Denver Restaurants Shopping Travel
by maribeth
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Night Out in Denver
I love visiting a place when it’s in the throes of a big happening. It couldn’t have gotten much bigger recently in Denver during the Democratic National Convention. The streets were buzzing with all kinds of people from all over the country, all over the world, in fact. I had never seen so many fashionable looking people in the mile high city—the old cow town myth has certainly been put to rest!
After a short while though I was feeling rather alone in the crowd. So I went and sought comfort at Tattered Cover, one of my all-time favorite bookstores and certainly one of the finest book emporiums in our country. Their LoDo, or Lower Downtown, location pleases me the best; this worked out well since that’s the area where most of the Convention hoopla was taking place.
Fortunately just as I was beginning to tire from checking my e-mails from my cozy armchair at this most welcoming bookstore, I received a call from David Craig, General Manager of Hotel Teatro, Denver’s award-winning boutique hotel. It was time for some distraction and I was more than willing to receive it from this charming man, certainly one of Denver’s most eligible bachelors.
Art & Culture Food & Wine Hotels & Lodging Restaurants Shopping Spas The Adirondacks Travel: Art & Culture Food & Wine Hotels & Lodging Restaurants Shopping Spas The Adirondacks
by maribeth
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Adirondack Day Trip
On the Road to Paradise
It’s actually pretty hard to do a day trip to the Adirondack Park, the largest protected area in America as big as the Grand Canyon, Glacier, Yellowstone, Yosemite and Great Smoky Mountains National Parks combined. It’s also the largest National Historic Landmark in the country, yet much of the land within the Adirondack Park is privately owned including small towns, hamlets and islands. This impressive land mass—totally void of a real city—is in the middle of nowhere. But it is within driving distance of some 80 million people, so don’t expect to be completely alone in the woods. Although that can easily happen, too.
Lake Placid, the town (and, of course, lake) that to me represents the heart of the Adirondacks, is a two-hour drive from Albany and Montreal and a five-hour drive from New York City and Boston. (Although it’s only thirty minutes from I-87, also known as The Northway, if you forego the most scenic route.) The Park contains the Adirondack mountain range, some of the oldest mountains in America, verdant and thickly forested and best typified by a blue-green body of crystal clear water at their base. The High Peaks, the most formidable mountains of the Adirondacks, are located near Lake Placid which is largely why this resort town became such a hub for athleticism and outdoor activities. I find the history, culture and arts and crafts of the region to be immensely rich here as well, so that’s usually where I focus most of my attention whenever I venture into this part of the Adirondack Park.
I was stationed for a while at my parents’ summer home on Lake George, a thirty-two mile-long slice of spring-fed, glacier melt that borders the Adirondack Park to the southeast. And even from there, a day trip into the heart of the Adirondacks represented some doing. But my mom was always up for an adventure, a more than willing driver that loves to see new sites and revisit old ones. So I only had to don my tour director’s cap and off we went. It was a momentous occasion of sorts since my dad was joining us and as we commented halfway through the day, it was indeed the first time the three of us embarked upon a road trip together. (In fact my love for places of tradition and charm grew out of jaunts to Vermont country stores and such with my mother when I was a young girl. Dad was usually off working then and unavailable to join in our fun.)We drove the Northway a couple of exits up from Lake George and got off the highway to pick up Route 28 at Warrensburg, a sleepy little town peppered with antique stores. I remembered when I bought a whole set of wicker porch furniture from one of the dealers for a song.
Art & Culture Food & Wine Hotels & Lodging Restaurants Saratoga Springs Shopping Spas Travel: Art & Culture Food & Wine Hotels & Lodging Restaurants Saratoga Springs Shopping Spas Travel
by maribeth
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My Saratoga
Batcheller Mansion: A Victorian Gem
“You can either go to the Carousel or the Adelphi,” my mother said. “But we’re not doing both.”
It was amazing how even at the age of blankety-blank my mom could still make me feel like a child. It’s a good thing we were such buddies, such devoted travel companions that she could get away with a remark like that and still leave me feeling totally unscathed. This was our afternoon out in Saratoga Springs, a beloved town for all upstate New Yorkers, but perhaps even more so for me since I had lived here at one point in my life. (It also happens to rate as one of the top destinations in New York state along with New York City and Niagara Falls.)
The truth is that I didn’t arrive in Telluride directly from Paris. Toga-town captured my interest in between and I will always reserve a soft place for it in my heart. It is a grand destination, distinguished largely by its hometown America charm and pristine and abundant examples of Victorian architecture. Visitors have been flocking to Saratoga Springs for more than a century and a half, first for its mineral waters, later for its gaming. Tourism has always been a big industry here, particularly in the summer when the town opens up the Saratoga Racetrack, the oldest thoroughbred race course in the country, along with the Saratoga Performing Arts Center, or SPAC, summer home of the New York City Ballet and the Philadelphia Orchestra.
Mom and I needed to go on one of our outings for it had been a while since we had experienced the kind of female bonding that best occurs over doing lunch, shopping or going for some kind of beautification together. I was back east in the Adirondacks visiting my parents, so nearby Saratoga Springs, a town sometimes referred to as the gateway to the Adirondacks, seemed like the most logical choice. Plus my mother and I wanted to go see Alan, my mother’s hair dresser of nearly forty years who works out of Saratoga part-time. I planned our afternoon around our beauty appointments and except for lunch, I thought I’d leave the rest to chance. Dad was to come along, too, a welcome addition to my well established dynamic with my mother, so I imagined there might be some kind of an attraction he would vie for as well.
Pastries from Mrs. London’s
We made a direct beeline to Mrs. London’s, a lovely tea salon/bake shop that would easily rival Paris’s finest Right Bank pâtisseries. I wanted to have a belated birthday celebration for my mom and I knew that Mrs. London’s was as much a favorite for her as for me. The three of us sat primly at little marble tables, sipping iced tea and munching on delectable sandwiches. We took turns hovering in front of the glass display cases, eyeing each and every pastry and cake in an attempt to make our selection for dessert. We settled on the idea of sharing one luscious lemon meringue tarte amongst the three of us. But at the same time, we ordered a pain au chocolat, a kouign amann (a buttery specialty from Brittany) and a rich, dark brownie to go.
Edible Art
We also selected a Fire Bread, the creation for which Michael London, owner of Mrs. London’s with his wife, Wendy, is perhaps most famous. This is a dense, crusty bread similar to France’s renowned pain Poîlane, which to me is best in the morning, toasted and smothered with butter and honey.
At Alan’s, I was fully debriefed on the current dining scene in Saratoga, one that can change as fast as the odds on a horse race. (Fortunately only a couple of my favorites were scratched!) Alan is a trusted source since not only is he a hairdresser, but he’s also a foodie. Dad sat reading the sports pages throughout our discussions and blow dries.
Mom and I left nicely primped and decidedly eager to go somewhere to show it off. Dad bestowed us with much appreciated compliments and told us that he didn’t care where we went next. We contemplated shopping since Saratoga is known for its many quaint shops but none of us needed anything. It was at that point that I envisioned a ride on the old-fashioned, wooden carousel in historic Congress Park (perhaps proceeded by a stroll through its beautifully manicured grounds), followed by a drink at the Adelphi, Saratoga’s landmark hotel.
Riding the Carousel in My Dreams
I had done pretty much all there is to do in Saratoga when I lived here except take a ride on the carousel. (Although I had read a lot about its impending arrival, this revered treasure—which is now enclosed in glass—hadn’t been transplanted here until after I left town.) My romantic notion of twirling on the carousel alongside my aging parents withered when confronted with the choice my mother presented to me. I have a huge weakness for fine hotels and the Adelphi ranks among the most distinctive I know, so going there would, of course, be my first choice. Be sure to visit Congress Park, however, when you’re in Saratoga since every acre of it has been laid out with great purpose and design. The Saratoga Springs History Museum, housed in the famed Canfield Casino (which you can sometimes tour), sits right in the center of this handsome tract of land.
The three of us padded into the hotel and I was delighted to see that not much had changed since I last spent time here many years ago. Actually I don’t think the hotel has undergone many significant restorations within the past one hundred years. And to me, this worn and tired look only adds to its charm. We wandered through the Victorian-era lobby, decorated with velvet settees and rich wallpaper and paused just long enough in the bar area to admire the room’s painted murals and fine spread of fruit, cheese and desserts including blackberry pie and carrot cake. Already I felt like this was one of the last bastions of civility left in Saratoga, an elegant retreat that furnished the necessary accompaniments to both a glass of wine and a cup of tea.
Lobby of the Adelphi
I was leading my parents toward the courtyard patio, a marvelous oasis populated with large and lush exotic plants and forest green Adirondack chairs. I could remember seeing long, lithe ballet dancers draped over these chairs after an evening’s performance, but ballet season (July) had ended and most of the crowd seemed to consist of the horsey set that takes over in August. We had passed a couple of garden rooms on our way out here, each one more prettily decorated than the next. In the end, we settled for the open-air Courtyard Café where we could sit surrounded by dark green latticework trellises, gaze out onto the patio and listen to the trickle of their garden fountains.
High Drama at the Adelphi Bar
We sipped fresh fruit daiquiris and chatted about “our old days” in Saratoga. We all had enjoyed doing a day at the races from time to time, especially if it meant dressing up and languishing over a long lunch at the clubhouse. My dad talked about a poached salmon plate that he found particularly memorable. All of us went more for the show and the fun of it than for the gambling. With its two-storied grandstand, its cascading flower boxes, its supremely maintained grounds and racetracks, complete with a little lake in the center upon which floats a canoe bearing the colors of the stable that won the famous Travers race the year before, one was easily taken with the beauty of this historic landmark. And then, of course, the magnificent thoroughbred horses, the jockeys dressed in brightly-colored silks and the crowd sporting everything from shorts and T-shirts to flouncy dresses and hats, provided a whole other source of entertainment.
Reminiscing about this was bitter sweet. I was quite sure my dad would never return to the races since clearly he felt more comfortable in less hectic surroundings these days. (Even Mrs. London’s was a tad too noisy for him.) We had talked about going to have breakfast at the track, one of my all-time favorite things to do in Saratoga where you can watch the horses train early in the morning and also take a stable tour and learn about the history behind this American institution. (Founded in 1864, the Saratoga Racetrack perpetuates a long tradition of horse culture in the region through the actual races, the horse sales and the horse farms situated throughout the outlying area.) In the end, Dad and I decided to postpone our date for breakfast at the track until next year.
Saratoga Summer Elegance
We glanced over at the table next to us and admired a small group of fashionable people that had clearly just come from the track. We could hear them bemoaning their losses and celebrating their victories over Martinis and large pots of Darjeeling. Indeed it was the time of day when teatime and cocktail hour blurred into one. I sensed that my parents were feeling somewhat wistful about missing out on this great Saratoga tradition of attending the races, world-famous meets held here but six weeks every summer. I reminded them, however, that delighting in a fine hotel could be considered an even older tradition in Saratoga, especially since virtually all of them—some of the grandest in America—had long ago been torn down. Thank goodness the Adelphi remained and amidst its tattered coverings, one could easily gain a whiff of Old Saratoga.
Saratoga Springs is about a 45-minute drive north of Albany International airport.
Saratoga Racetrack, www.nyra.com/saratoga
National Museum of Racing and Hall of Fame, www.racingmuseum.org
Saratoga Performing Arts Center, www.spac.org
Mrs. London’s, 464 Broadway, 518-581-1834, www.mrslondons.com
Alan at Limelight Salon of Saratoga, 24 Hamilton Street, 518-580-1007
Saratoga Springs History Museum, Congress Park, 518-584-6920, www.saratogahistory.org
Adelphi Hotel, 365 Broadway, 518-587-4688, www.adelphihotel.com
More of My Favorite Restaurants and Cafés in Saratoga
Caffe Lena, 47 Phila Street, 518-583-0022, www.caffelena.org; folk music and more.
Chez Sophie, 534 Broadway, 518-583-3538, www.chezsophie.com; fine cuisine in a sophisticated setting.
Chiante Il Ristorante, 18 Division Street, 518-580-0025, www.chiantiristorante.com; wonderful Italian restaurant with a happening bar.
Circus Café, 392 Broadway, 518-583-1106, www.circuscafe.com; casual dining served up in a Big Top setting—a must for kids.
Country Corner Café, 25 Church Street, 518-583-7889, www.saratoga.org/countrycornercafé; great place for breakfast if you can find a seat!
Four Seasons Natural Foods, 33 Phila Street, 518-584-4670; www.fourseasonsnaturalfoods.com; a favorite for healthy food and products both to enjoy here or to go. I would often eat here with Mana, my yoga instructor, whom I ran into recently at their outdoor seating. Enquire about her here if you want to experience one of the best yoga classes ever!
Lime, 7 Caroline Street, 518-584-4315, www.limesaratoga.com; fun Caribbean food.
Sperry’s, 30 1/2 Caroline Street, 518-584-9618, www.sperrysofsaratoga.com; a Saratoga classic.
My Old Shopping Haunts
De Jonghe Jewelers, 470 Broadway, 518-587-6422, www.dejonghejewelry.com; original designs of the finest quality.
Lyrical Ballad, 7 Phila Street, 518-584-8779, lballad@nycap.rr.com; seller of rare and extraordinary books and prints.
Menges & Curtis Apothecary, 472 Broadway, 518-584-2046, www.mengesandcurtis.com; quality beauty products and gift ideas in an Old World setting.
Putnam Street Market Place, 433 Broadway, 518-587-3663; www.putnammarket.com; fine comestibles and wine, including delightful dishes to go.
Saratoga Shoe Depot, 365 Broadway, 518-584-1142, www.saratogashoedepot.com; shoes, accessories and clothing for all as well as a plethora of gifts—all at discounted prices.
Saratoga Trunk, 493 Broadway, 518-584-3543; www.saratogatrunk.com; high-end women’s fashions and accessories including hats!
The Art District on Beekman Street
Worth Checking Out
The Art District on Beekman Street emerged within recent years as a happening place to shop and dine. I especially like it since it’s not at all touristy. (Broadway, the main street of Saratoga, does become a little too much of a scene for me during the thick of the summer season.) This is an historic neighborhood, originally primarily Italian, where Al Capone and Lucille Ball once hung out (although perhaps not at the same time!) There are some nice art galleries here to explore. My mom and I dined to mixed reviews at Gotchya’s (www.gotchyas.com) on a separate occasion. You might fare better at The Beekman Street Bistro (www.thebeekmanstreetbistro.com), although I don’t have any firsthand reports. For more on the Art District of Beekman Street, go to www.saratogatourism.com/vcstuff/beekman.
Saratoga Countryside
For the Outdoors You
I became more in touch with sports and how regular physical activity can benefit you so much both physically and mentally when I lived in Saratoga. (Remember I was coming off of living eleven years in Paris where for me exercise consisted of a stroll in the park or a walk in the countryside.) This is where I launched myself into cycling and discovered that some of the best road riding in the country lies less than a mile out of town. Think of all of those horse farms and rolling hills! I also loved to ride out at the Saratoga Battlefied, a beautiful parcel of countryside steeped in history. Closer to town, it’s fun to hike, picnic or just poke around at the Saratoga Spa State Park, a National Historic Landmark, which is indisputably quite picturesque. In the winter, I would sometimes cross country ski in this park and then swing over to Mrs. London’s for a hot chocolate and a croissant.
Blue Sky Bicycles, 71 Church Street, 518-583-0600, www.blueskybicycles.com; shop here to outfit yourself for your cycling, rent a bike or obtain information on the great rides in the area.
Saratoga National Historical Park (The Saratoga Battlefield), 518-664-9821, ext. 224, www.nps.gov/sara
Saratoga Spa State Park, 19 Roosevelt Drive, 518-584-2535, www.saratogaspastatepark.org
Book Picks
Any of the Jacobs Burns Mysteries by Matt Witten; he was a fellow author when I lived in Saratoga and all of his stories are set in the Spa town.
“Saratoga: Saga of an Impious Era,” by George Waller
“Saratoga Springs: An Architechtural History, 1790-1990,” by James Kettlewell; I was friendly with James when I lived in Saratoga. He was the most distinguished Art History professor associated with Skidmore College, which is also located in Saratoga.
“Saratoga Trunk,” by Edna Ferber and Stuart M. Rosen; my absolute favorite which is a terrific movie as well!
Art & Culture French Life Girl Talk New York Restaurants Shopping Travel: Art & Culture Café Sabarsky French Life Girl Talk Gustav Klimt Lady in Gold Neue Galerie New York Restaurants Shopping Woman in Gold
by maribeth
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Gallery Going with the Ladies from Larchmont
I met my friend Jane fresh out of college when we worked at the Pucker Safrai art gallery together in Boston. In addition to being incredibly smart, creative and witty, Jane’s always very up-to-the-minute with everything from the latest cooking utensil to this season’s hottest nail color. (That happens to be Opi’s Moon over Mumbai—a sort of lavender grey—one of those small, yet necessary tidbits I learned when she teased me about my freshly applied ruby red, aptly named After Sex. I thought that shade would be fun and fresh with my summer togs, but what’s a mountain girl to know anyway?) So when Jane told me about a planned excursion to Neue Galerie, one of Manhattan’s more recent additions to the arts scene that showcases German and Austrian art, I jumped at the chance to go along.
Our outing was to include Jane’s friend, another very snappy gal from Larchmont, her mother-in-law and Jane’s daughter, a lovely young lady in her mid teens that I later discovered had clearly adopted her mother’s interest in the arts. Both Jane and her friend looked particularly chic in stylish dresses that would have also worked well for a sophisticated garden party. (Jane aptly dubbed her cream-colored linen shift very Frieda Callo.) Standing there in my well cut jean bermudas and colorful, clingy top, I was almost sorry I hadn’t taken it up a notch. Thank goodness I wore my beautiful, glass beads.
“You look very mountain-like, MB,” Jane observed without an ounce of snootiness. She tossed me a purple pashmina. “Here, that’s perfect. Just the right touch of namasté. You’ll need it for the museum.”
I had grown accustomed to a life without air conditioning in Colorado and was constantly amazed that the A.C. was cranked so high in other parts of the country.
We chatted excitedly the whole drive into the city. I learned that women in Larchmont were very possessive about sharing their babysitters’ names and numbers, a seemingly disconcerting matter for Jane and her friend.
“That’s how it is with French women and their recipes,” I explained. “Most only do a few signature dishes and they don’t like to share their recipes for fear that their spécialités might show up at someone else’s dinner party.”
We all scoffed at that. “Yes, I was even convinced at one point that one of my former sisters-in-law would deliberately leave out an ingredient or two so that her recipe could not be duplicated. I would make these cakes that would be total flops,” I trailed off.
Entrance to Neue Galerie
We laughed and commiserated about about some of the more tedious aspects of life until we pulled up in front of a handsome mansion on the upper east side. By now we were starved, so we decided to lunch first and look later. Entering the Café Sabarsky at Neue Galerie was like stepping into a fine dining room in Vienna. Dark wood paneling, wooden floors, floral-covered velvet banquettes, little marble café tables and heavy draperies wrapped us in an Old World warmth that we soon realized was more important than ever with the A.C.-induced Arctic chill that blasted us as soon as we walked in the door. We settled in and began to order coffees and lunch.
Café Sabarsky
The five of us almost hurried through our selections of goulash soup, smoked trout, Weiner Schnitzel and salads in anticipation of the desserts to follow. (We had already scoped out gorgeous cakes and tortes on the long, marble sideboard on the other side of the room upon entering.) A rich assortment of treats was later served up with more coffee and in my case, hot chocolate, the perfect accompaniment to an Apfelstrudel on a cold winter’s day. (Instead of complaining any more about the frosty air, I decided to make it a good excuse for being extra decadent.)
Grand Staircase
Finally we were ready to stroll through the exhibition rooms. We delighted separately, all together and sometimes one-on-one in viewing the many fine works on display here from original furnishings to superbly crafted jewelry. I paused at great length in front of a glittering painting by Gustav Klimt. Clearly some of the finest examples of Austrian-German creativity were prominently featured within this nearly six-year old museum. Neue Galerie is a small gem whose jewel box-like interior is as alluring as the goods inside. Our hearts had been warmed by all the beauty we took in within this elegant space; our bodies were glad to meet the hot summer air outside.
Neue Galerie New York, 1048 Fifth Avenue, 212-628-6200, www.neuegalerie.org
Café Sabarsky is open for breakfast, lunch and dinner (and for lots of tea, coffee and drinks in between) everyday but Wednesday; 212-288-0665.
French Life Girl Talk New York Restaurants Travel: French Life Girl Talk New York Restaurants
by maribeth
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Franco-American Girl Talk
I was to top off my time in the West Village with my dear friend Michèle, another single woman and une vraie franco-américaine, raised by a French mother and an American father. Plus she has lived almost equal time in Paris and New York, so she clearly has a handle on both worlds. For us to meet in New York was a particular treat since she had always been one of my friends from Paris. I was relying upon her more and more for updates on la vie parisienne.
We tucked ourselves into the corner banquette at Alexandra, another one of the West Village’s charming little restaurants on Hudson Street. After ordering salads, soupe à l’oignon gratinée and a couple of French Chardonnays, we jumped right in to one of our favorite subjects: zee French.
“So how are the French doing these days?” I asked.
“They’re still complaining a lot, but they do continue to enjoy a nice quality of life,” she replied.
“It sounds as though not much has changed since when I lived there.”
Our conversation soon shifted to French men, a far more interesting subject.
“I hope they’re still very charming and that they have remained as attentive as ever toward their women,” I said.
“French men do know how to flirt,” Michèle replied. “But there’s often nothing behind it.”
“Flirting does make life more fun,” I added. “I miss that about France. I don’t think there’s enough flirting here in the U.S. I always enjoy a titillating exchange.”
“Well I guess men on both sides of the Atlantic still know how to whip out the charm to seduce,” Michèle added.
I pondered this last comment for a while, replaying certain recent encounters in my head.
“And do French men continue to maintain mistresses?” I asked, changing the subject just enough so as not to delve headfirst into my own litany of love relationships. At least not right away. “People always ask me about that here in America. I think that’s something that fascinates Americans about the French.”
“That is still more of a reality than a myth,” Michèle answered reflectively. “I think it’s class specific. It’s more open and accepted in the haute bourgeoisie. Many French people live separate lives and are very frank about it. I know a lot of people that do this.”
“I guess in America people go ahead and split up despite the financial and emotional consequences,” I ventured. “In France, people live it out until they sort it out.”
We continued chatting about the differences between the French and Americans, a big frame of reference for us both.
“So what else is new?”
“You’ve heard the French are crazy about Carla Bruni, right?” Michèle asked.
“Oh yes, I know. I’m not that much out of the loop.”
Alexandra, After the Girls Were Gone
Alexandra, 455 Hudson Street, 212-255-3838, www.nymag.com/listings/restaurant/alexandra
Food & Wine Hotels & Lodging New York Restaurants Shopping Travel: Food & Wine Hotels & Lodging New York Restaurants Shopping Travel
by maribeth
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Happy, Joyous and Gay in the West Village
It’s always rather electrifying for me to arrive in New York and I’m forever amazed by what I can take in in a short amount of time. This visit revolved around the West Village, the area west of 6th Avenue between 14th Street and Houston. And even better, I got to experience much of it with gay men. My friend, John, was my host most of the time, a more than willing party for showing me the highlights of the area where he lives and works.
I already was liking the Big Apple a good deal when I picked up a bouquet of sunflowers for John at D’Agostino’s for less than $8. (The same would have cost about $20. back in Telluride. Oh, the joys of being in a big city!) It was also lovely to spend a balmy evening dining outside at Malatesta, a bustling trattoria filled mostly with locals.
Authentic Food and Ambiance at Malatesta
We feasted on excellent plates of homemade pasta with John’s roommate Dan, another handsome single gay man, and talked a lot about the theater and the wonderful qualities of this charming part of New York.
“Yeah, gay men know how to gentrify neighborhoods and dress well,” Dan admitted. “In fact, we’re all about window dressing.”
Although the really “in” neighborhood for gays in New York is now Hell’s Kitchen, the West Village has remained gay enough to still boast a large number of excellent shops, restaurants and cafés. And its low-key feel attracts people—including many celebs that have taken up residence here—in search of more authentic experiences at not-so staggering prices.
Our pasta dishes at Malatesta rang in at $12.50 each; we all enjoyed fresh salads, such as a pear, arugula and parmesan starter, for well under $10. (I can still remember the light olive oil and lemon vinaigrette that dressed my salad.) After perusing the menus at a good number of restaurants in the Village, I ascertained that these prices for excellent cuisine were more the norm than not, but be sure to bring cash since most establishments don’t take credit cards. Note also that many offer al fresco dining and are open for brunch on weekends.
A Cool Hotspot in the West Village
We reluctantly left the Old World-styled décor of this open and airy restaurant to seek out desert at Eskimix, a newly opened frozen yogurt shop, one of the hottest places in the Village right now. Its pastel-colored, Hello Kitty-like look contrasted greatly with the warm interior where we had just spent the last couple of hours, yet we were all eager to concoct our own special creation from the list of frozen yogurts and toppings proposed. I averted the fruit-topped dairy free tofu blend and dove right in to a S’mores Sensation, a rich mixture of sweet yogurt topped with milk chocolate chunks, marshmallow and graham crackers. My vacation was not off to a good start, but what the heck. And yes, there is a hint of Pinkberry in the air.
A Yummy Creation
The three of us decided to walk it off by doing a little tour of the neighborhood. By now the streets were quite animated and the people-watching was topnotch. We enjoyed browsing on Bleecker Street, pushing our noses against the windows of Marc Jacobs, Coach, Ralph Lauren, Cynthia Rowley and Bonpoint. I was especially taken with the boudoir-like interior of Juicy Couture, a shop I was glad to pass in front of at such a late hour when I knew I could do no damage. Strolling down a quaint street such as Bleecker, makes you understand why this part of New York is referred to as the Village.
We turned in for the night and upon seeing the face cream and neatly folded T-shirt and boxer shorts that Dan had laid out for me, I was even more grateful to be staying with such an attentive pair of men. (My luggage didn’t show up until the next morning and needless-to-say, I don’t pack much in my carryon but my laptop, a good book and some important papers.)
Inside Out of the Kitchen!
I was to meet Roy, another very interesting gay man, at Out of the Kitchen! the next morning for breakfast. (The gay emphasis is important here, I think, since it denotes a certain level of sophistication and style—often along with a great sense of humor—that I find very attractive. Plus aren’t gay guys a girl’s best friend anyway?)
We sat outside and chatted about many of the beautiful things in life over fluffy omelets, roasted potatoes and delicious, whole grain toast. John was working that shift at the restaurant, so he was able to join in on our conversation, dropping a word or two about certain Broadway shows or other forms of attraction in the city.
Outside Out of the Kitchen!
I scooted off from this meeting to check out the shops and beauty salons at Christopher Street, another great street in the West Village. I decided to have a pedicure at Salon de Oasis. The French grammar mistake in the name instantly tipped me off that this was not a high-end establishment, but the Avalon Salon & Day Spa across the street was fully booked. I couldn’t help noticing that the two men seated next to me looked particularly metrosexual. We chatted and before long I learned that they, too, were gay. They actually live in Hell’s Kitchen but come down to the West Village every Saturday for breakfast and fun. Both love skiing and Paris, so we all became fast friends. Armed with a few other addresses of places to check out, I bid them à bientôt in Telluride.
It was beginning to rain, so I was happy to seek refuge next door at McNulty’s Tea & Coffee Co., Inc., purveyors of rare teas and choice coffees, established in 1895. Big burlap bags of coffee greeted me along with a delicious aroma of coffee and tea that had permeated the wooden floors and shelves of this little shop for over a century. I thought about picking up some special teas and coffees here for my friend, Jane, that I’d be visiting in Larchmont for the next couple of days but I decided that cupcakes from Magnolia Bakery would make more of a hit with her children instead.
By now it was raining quite hard, so it seemed like this would be the best time to go to this renowned bakery made famous by “Sex and the City.” We had stopped by here last night and although Dan really craved a cupcake, we didn’t feel it was worth the estimated forty-five minute wait required. As I approached Magnolia’s on the corner of Bleecker and 11th, I could tell from a distance that there was only a handful of people braving the foul weather for a piece or more of their sugary baked goods.
Being in no hurry, I poked around Biography Bookshop Inc., located caddy corner to Magnolia’s. Here I was particularly intrigued by one title: “Greenwich Village: A Guide to America’s Legendary Left Bank,” by Judith Stonehill. Hmmmm, I thought. What I had seen so far did possess some of the same qualities as Paris’s Left Bank. The book included “four walking tours with maps to explore Greenwich Village with the artists, writers, bohemians and blithe spirits who congregate here.” This neighborhood appeared increasingly more interesting to me as each minute passed. I put down the book though knowing that I’d be leaving the city by the end of the day.
Pastel-Colored Temptations at Magnolia Bakery
Inside Magnolia, the rich smell of butter and sugar clung to the heavy, humid air. Towering layer cakes beneath large, glass domes garnered most of my attention, but I soon moved on to the cupcakes set out primly in the far corner of this old-fashioned looking cake shop. I asked for a dozen and was promptly told “to serve myself.” I hovered for a while in front of their multifarious assortment, deliberating between chocolate with vanilla frosting, chocolate with chocolate frosting, vanilla/vanilla—well, you get the idea—until I heard a sigh behind me that seemed to indicate you’d better hustle along. I made a point of picking out some of the Red Velvets, a cocoa-charged confection that John had talked about at great length the night before. (A southern specialty, these are made with cocoa powder and red apple cider vinegar that actually burns off during the baking process. Some red food coloring is also added.) Cupcakes are priced at $2.50 a piece; $3.00 for the Red Velvets.
Accustomed to the finishing touches offered at even your most basic boulangerie, I was expecting my boxes to be done up with ribbon, or at the very least, string. A few pieces of tape was the best they could manage. Upon tasting them later, I was still not very impressed, since I found the cakes to be a little too dense for my liking. (In all fairness, however, I read afterward that their cupcakes should never be put in the fridge and unfortunately ours had been.) Nevertheless all this made me wonder if the tourists that line up outside of Berthillon, Paris’s most celebrated ice cream shop, esteem that their treats are worth the fuss or not.
I made my way back toward Hudson Street where I had begun the day. Another downpour forced me to seek refuge at Petite Abeille, an adorable restaurant offering Belgian specialties including waffles and mussels and lesser known dishes such as Waterzooi (fish stew) and stoemp (mashed potatoes, carrots and onions cooked in bacon fat). I sat at one of the little tables draped in blue-and-white checked tablecloths, sipped a Bellini, anticipated my lunchtime meeting with a good friend and reflected upon all the wonderful times I enjoyed in Belgium, beginning at the age of sixteen when I did an exchange with a Belgian girl by the name of Chantal. Yes, I’ll admit that for my first few years of speaking French, my accent was undeniably Belgian yet also full of warmth and whimsy, just like this little restaurant, just like the West Village I had come to know in less than twenty-four hours.
Malatesta, 649 Washington Street, 212-741-1207
Eskimix, Bleecker and Grove, 212-206-6828, www.eskimix.com
Out of the Kitchen!, 420 Hudson Street, 212-242-0399, www.outofthekitchenonline.com
Salon de Oasis, 107 Christopher Street, 212-337-9812
Avalon Salon & Day Spa, 112 Christopher Street, 212-337-1966, www.avalonspa.citysearch.com
McNulty’s Tea & Coffee Co., Inc., 109 Christopher Street, 212-242-5351; www.mcnultys.com
Biography Bookshop Inc., 400 Bleecker St. (@11th Street), 212-807-8655; www.nymag.com/listings/stores/biography_bookshop/
Magnolia Bakery, 401 Bleecker Street, 212-462-2572, www.magnoliabakery.com
Petite Abeille, 466 Hudson Street, 212-741-6479, www.petiteabeille.com
Hotel Suggestion
Jane Hotel, 113 Jane Street, 212-924-6700; www.thejanenyc.com
On an Even More Personal Note
Memories of my dear brother Phil accompanied me throughout the researching and writing of this story. It has been almost fifteen years to this day that he passed all too soon. He was one of John’s best friends. I am grateful to John for his friendship and for his help in keeping Phil’s memory alive.
