I know, it's the eighth day - but never let the truth get in the way of a good story...
We’d decided the 1st would
be a rest day. The day before had been
huge, and of course we’d got in late so the plan was to sleep in and then just
kick back for a while. We woke up quite
late and mooched around the apartment for at least an hour before we decided
that we really needed something to eat.
A leisurely stroll down to the East Village shopping centre passing
countless diners (if I see another diner why I’ll…) we finally stumbled upon a patisserie
attached to the restaurant we were going that night for dinner (more on that
later). We both ordered a croissant
(mine with asparagus and mushroom and Himself’s with ham and cheese) plus
coffee and hot chocolate. As an aside,
the mushrooms here are so rich! Why is it, their steak is bland but mushrooms
out of this world??
We sat on a bench outside enjoying
this relatively light and civilised breakfast before deciding, what the hell,
we were here, let’s do some shopping*.
Happily, with flat shoes on we trotted around the various snazzy
stores. Armani Exchange, Gap, G Star Raw,
Adidas etc. Pretty much what is out at
the shopping outlet and also some with sales.
One thing we have found is that lots of men in NYC appear to be exactly
the size as Himself, as there’s never anything of anything he likes left in his
size!
We (I) also stopped at Victoria’s
Secret as my bra situation at home is getting a bit dire. Himself hid in a shop across the road while I
did some serious shopping. What a
beautiful store! All made to make you feel incredibly feminine and attractive –
I mean, they have dimming lights in their change rooms!! There were quite a few men hovering about
looking awkward and a lot of women looking a bit wild eyed (buy 1 get 50% off
the next). So, after figuring out my
size in American I was good to go, found the bra of my dreams and pulled
Himself in off the street to pay. He
slunk through the shop, eyes averted until we got to the checkout where he
bemoaned the cost - $150 for 4 bras?? That’s a bargain!!!**
By then our feet (and his credit
card) were starting to smoke so back down to East 8th for some
lunch. Five mouthfuls of an awful Ramen
later we admitted defeat and headed home.
Annoyingly passing 2 packed ramen places, 2 Thai and a Pommes Frites
place where the line is always out the door… do’h
It was 2pm nap time so once Himself
was asleep I snuck out to a Chinese massage place I’d spotted on East 6th
for a half hour foot massage (huzzah!)
Of course, a day in NYC wouldn’t be the same without some kind of illness
so my throat started getting very sore – probably the cold Himself had been
sporting for the last few days.
Another early dinner (phew!) at
Balthazar’s. This place was very hard to
get into (hence the 6:30 time) and was absolutely packed. The tables are so close together they have to
pull them out for you to slide into the bench on the other side. A great vibe though. I’m still craving light food, what with my
delicate stomach and the grease overload which is America so I went with steak
tartare for starter and fish for main.
Himself opted for some croquettes followed by confit duck leg. All food was delicious, the steak tartare was
excellently flavoured although the fish lacked lemon (which of course I
politely asked for – and was politely given).
The confit duck was richly rich and Himself sniffed it up.
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They are also famous for the Steak au
Poivre and Pommes Frites and trays of it were coming from the kitchen – the piles
of chips on these plates are crazy! So many chippies!! But the crowd love
it. We also shared a bottle of champagne
(as you do) and opted for no dessert. The
waiters here were very efficient, though not as friendly as a lot of the other
restaurants we’ve been to – too busy to be super friendly I think. We decided we’d hit them up for breakfast so
booked at their handy reservations phone on the way out.
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By then I was fading like the
delicate flower I am, but Himself was determined we’d stop for a drink on the
way home. We hailed a cab and jumped
in. Himself (for some reason) started
singing*** the latest Pitbull song. The cabby asked if we liked music? Yes indeed,
we reply. Ah! I’ll put on some music for
you… And on come the strains of… Bryan Adams?? That’s right my friends,
Everything I do, I do it for you; the extended version. The cabby was slow clicking and we were singing
with power fists in the back. We gave
him a $5 tip…
We stopped at our favourite bar, a
framboise beer for Himself and a whisky and dry for me (we had to explain what
dry was). I was busy passing out on the
table, throat killing me before Himself gave me up as a bad excuse for a
drinking buddy and we went home.
Ahhh sweet, sweet sleep…
*my devious plan all along
**Himself clearly does not know how
expensive those bad boys are
***I use this term loosely
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