I am pretty sure every nurse in london is seeing the sex and the city movie this weekend. most are enjoying cosmos with the girls beforehand. shouts of "let's hoochie it up!" and "skank!" ring through the halls of the hospital, while educational posters about new IV pumps are hastily covered over with glitter-encrusted sign-up sheets for the myriad SATC parties.
my scathing review, however, is done.
with no waiter nor food in sight, I ambled over to the lobby to have a chat with the maitre d’, who was nowhere to be found; I was instead left to chat with the bartender:
“Is the manager around?”
“I’m afraid not at the moment. Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Well, to be frank, the service is really unbelievable tonight"
"Unbelievably good?" he unbelievably asked.
tomorrow's presentation for work (toxic shock syndrome): 181 words
review of this weekend's dinner at susur (just plain toxic): 861 words
sorry school, looks like you lose again.
"diners tend to idealize luxury proteins... but those have become nothing more than empty status symbols. Vegetables with terroir, isn't that the ultimate luxury?"
well I guess that writer can help himself to a nice big bowl of luxury iceberg lettuce (with terroir). I'll stick with the foie, thanks.
p.s. we are apparently in a "post-adria generation." f&w said so.
I am not sure if I have ever mentioned this, but in response to the general outrageousness of women's studies I am in the process of developing a curriculum in men's studies. it would include courses like "manbags 101" and "the men's section at banana republic is always smaller than the women's - a seminar" and "media studies: vogue vs men's vogue" and for advanced students, a research course: "my manspa closed - where to get a quality sports manicure in a gentlemanly atmosphere."
anyway I guess I have a new course ("the man and the postmodern wedding: a recontextualization through the lens of social construct"). all the wedding websites go on at great length about "her day" and "discussion with the bride" and "the cake of her dreams" and "you and your husband." so now I have to email the photographer and feel like a total second-class citizen because they promise to capture "her vision" but the vision is actually my vision and I am a he.
so moral of the story, if I drop out of school and become a wedding planner it will be a completely gender neutral enterprise. or maybe it will be mancentric to make up for years of wedding repression.
p.s. I am hooked on stationery
our building's gym just reopened following its renovation. mila is headed down there now. you may recall that her last foray into high intensity exercise resulted in a total body rash, which the internet revealed to be some sort of allergic reaction to exercise. needless to say, I will have the benadryl close at hand.
p.s. I will be in charge of administering the benadryl. last time mila was allowed to self-medicate with the stuff she ended up with an overdose. she states quite emphatically that this is well known as a "drug store high." I am dubious.
old mila:
"do you mind if we pop into goodwill? I need more vintage t's"
"ideal wedding? toronto islands in birkenstocks. or maybe elope"
"kensington market should have pedestrian sundays every day"
"I majored in women's studies"
new mila:
"simon, can you please leave me alone? can't you see I'm trying to make an inspiration board?"
god knows what an inspiration board is, but it clearly involves copious wedding blogs and a floor covered in bridal magazines.
mila had been feeling a little sleepy lately, so she had some bloodwork done. given her diminutive size, it was kind of just assumed by all that her bloodwork would be less than impressive. well apparently mila is not so sickly after all. in fact, she would like to announce that she sports an iron level well within the normal range, and her B12 is bang-on. she is also quite proud of her robust hemoglobin (135), and notes that her thyroid is humming along quite nicely.
p.s. her glucose is also perfect.
p.p.s. I think I have low platelets. it is too bad we didn't get couples bloodwork, because I am kind of curious to see how I compare.
do not worry, reservations have been secured for one of susur's final tasting menus. now I just have to find the forms to get time off from school. I wonder if there's a checkbox for "gastronomic leave."
mila and I were chatting the other night. she wondered what my favourite vegetable was. she said hers was broccoli. I said mine was cookies. she said that cookies do not count as a vegetable, but perhaps she forgot that cookies are made from wheat, which, last I checked, was a plant. anyway, mila went on to ask what food I would take with me if I were on a desert island. she said chinese food. I said cookies. which leads me to my blog spinoff:
it would be called "exquisite vanity: the project" or perhaps "exquisite project" or maybe "project carbs." I would live for one year just on cookies and a daily multivitamin. I would blog about cookies and multivitamins and my health, which I suspect would be quite good, because I would be taking a daily multivitamin.
really, I would not be surprised if someone wanted to make a tv show or a movie about this or maybe a book with some cobranded merchandise like "exquisite cookies" or something.
chatto reports that susur is moving to new york. despite my vendetta, I am somewhat saddened by this news. furthermore, I spoke to the receptionist at his restaurant not one week ago, and she did not even have the decency to let me know. unbelievable.
momercize. awkwardly flailing their arms and legs as they tried to propel their $900 strollers through central park, listening to the shouted commands of an overhyped young man in overtight shorts, 3 young moms were sighted, well outside their natural habitats of dean & deluca and saks. words truly cannot describe the inane contortions of these three ladies, who were no doubt paying dearly for the privilege of looking like complete fools as they power-strollered about the park, clad in excessively coordinated athletic wear. whatever happened to good old-fashioned ashtanga hiphop pilates?
okay, back to regularly scheduled programming. for today's installment of 'best of nyc,' a tie, presented in chronological order of enjoyment:
1) jean george's silver marshmallow tongs and shears. after presenting the table with a generous selection of mignardises, in the form of superb truffles and a trio of sensational miniature macarons, the marshmallow cart was wheeled over. from a giant apothecary jar, filled with stack upon stack of rectangular slabs of house-made marshmallows, a single block of marshmallow was removed with what were doubtlessly purpose-built silver marshmallow tongs. using the equally custom-made silver marshmallow shears, individual pieces of marshmallow were cut, and placed onto the fine china with great ceremony. with unwavering pomp, this was repeated twice more, leaving the diner with yet another trio (vanilla, cinnamon and lemon, if I do not misremember) to join the macarons. (JG evidently works well in threes: the amuse - of caramelized grapefruit with pecorino; house miso with radish; and a composition of poached quail egg - was immensely successful)
2) per se's chocolate paper. following the first round of mignardises (apricot pot de creme and a lilliputian vanilla creme brulee), but preceding the third (rustic truffles, house caramels, chocolate-covered almonds, pistachio nougat), came the hand-dipped truffles. after providing us with a small silver plate to hold our truffles, the truffle waiter appeared to offer us a selection from his amply stocked silver tray of truffles ("there is no truffle police," he cooed. "take as many as you wish"). in order to accurately point to each truffle as he described it, as well as to grasp each truffle and transfer them from his silver tray to ours, he produced a thick piece of luxurious brown cardstock - the chocolate paper - no doubt a custom piece. (I must note that it was around this time that we experienced the most profound service gaffe of the meal: as the truffle waiter was returning to mila's side to serve her a final truffle, he dropped his chocolate paper. "oh dear, I have dropped my chocolate paper," he said calmly. he quickly glanced around, no doubt checking both for thomas keller, lest he fire the waiter on the spot, but also for a stray chocolate paper that he may have been able to grab in order to finish the chocolate service. needless to say, there were no stray chocolate papers in the dining room. fortunately, mila sprang to the poor waiter's rescue and offered to pick up the chocolate using her own fingers, and transfer it to her plate. disaster averted, I suppose, but it is certainly a good thing I am so relaxed and tolerant of incompetence, because anyone else would probably have yelled profanities at the waiter and overturned the well-appointed table, before storming out of that slipshod restaurant for good.)
trumping my close brush with tim zagat, of zagat guide fame, while experiencing what is perhaps the best michelin star value in the world, and besting even the copious handshakes I traded with the many chefs inside the kitchens of per se, not to mention the gratuitously passionate service experienced at that same gastronomic temple, comes this exciting update from EV HQ:
did anyone attend the world of concrete 2008 conference? because I sure wish I had. I would probably have spent most of my time in the concrete pump truck area, because they are one of the best types of truck, I would venture. also, I might have browsed the concrete media zone, because I certainly was not aware of the broad array of publications available to the concrete professional ("concrete construction monthly" has a very interesting lead story on the burj dubai this month, though "residential concrete" seems to have a bit more mass market appeal. "concrete surfaces" unfortunately does not have a website, but I am sure it is also an excellent read).
school you are ruining my life again. I just found an old draft menu from a dinner party, tucked away in an old folder on my bookshelf. (incidentally, this is none other than the dinner which introduced the revolutionary chef's table, the standing-height table located in the kitchen, where guests were invited to take certain light courses (fish 1, intermezzi 1 & 2, shellfish, predesert and composed cheese, if I recall correctly) right in the middle of the drama of a kitchen brigade deep in the weeds. actually it may have been devised to appease guests as they sat for interminable lengths of time between courses, but really who can remember these kinds of things so many years out? HOW HAVE I NEVER DISCUSSED CHEF'S TABLE ON EV BEFORE? IT WAS ONE OF MY GREATEST STROKES OF GENIUS IN THE REALM OF CUSTOM DINNER PARTY FURNITURE EVER.)
anyways, all I want to do is go sit in a chair and write a sweet menu and build a new chef's table but instead I have to go to school. maybe my application for an exemption from my ob/gyn rotation will go through (grounds for exemption: that stuff is gross). that 6 weeks would be the perfect time to get cracking on a menu or two.
grossly underwhelming. 1 1/2 stars.
p.s. that is out of five stars. do not for one second think this lackluster darkening of the moon would merit 1 1/2 stars out of four.
1) we ran out of milk as I was making my hot chocolate, so I had to add a tablespoon or two of water to fill my mug. I feel dirty and cheap. maybe I will go eat some butter.
2) what is with people who double click on the internet? honestly.
3) I read about some petition to get the default margins in word reduced, in order to save paper. okay, that is obviously the worst idea I have ever heard. white space is the best space, you know. sure, they might save a couple polar bears, but does that mean my documents must look cluttered and busy? rest assured, I did not sign that petition.
p.s. if it is a four day week, is wednesday still humpday? if anyone is friends with any office dwellers (preferably secretaries) please enquire.
