The ending of an era...

Or Restaurant Week, Summer 2011

Yet again, this post is for Maxwell.

I actually plan on posting something quite a bit more serious later because I've been feeling...well let's just hold off on the "feelings" until later. As for right now, I'm starving and wanted to throw a little more food porn out there.

As I might've mentioned before, it was incredibly hot this weekend. In fact, NYC got graced with one hell of a heat wave, but I refused to let this heat interfere with my lunch. After futzing with my hours at work, I decided that I could go for a two hour lunch on Friday with the Mexican. I had wanted to go to this place on Tuesday, but it was too late in the evening, packed, and I wasn't dressed classy enough. Again, Bermuda shorts cannot be considered formal here in this country (which is a crying shame!).

I made reservations to go to the Post House at 3:30pm (because they told me any later, and it wouldn't be considered lunch). I left work and walked through 115 degree heat and humidity the 15 or so blocks to the restaurant. I was actually not doing too horribly. Breathing was a little tough, but I was determined to survive...and east steak. I knew exactly what I wanted when I got there.

God I don't like this kid.

The Mexican showed up a few minutes after me, and he looked like he was going to die. Even though we had a conversation about this place being classy, he wore a tshirt because he was getting a hair cute (side note: he was rocking the Bieber that morning because he didn't have any product in his hair. It was one of the funniest, most heinous things I have seen in a while. We also got into a fight over the pictures that were taken on whatever that Mac photo program is because there were two pictures that he randomly took where I looked like a horrific mess and he wouldn't delete them. I laughed so hard I cried as I literally wrestled him for control of the mouse to try and delete these pictures. The pictures got deleted, but not before I looked retarded because I have NO IDEA how to work Macs anymore. I totally forgot about dragging stuff to the trash. Seriously, half hour of my life wasted - but I digress.) Anyway, he kept repeating that they weren't going to let him into the classy establishment, but I went in first and they were taking us to our table before they noticed what he was wearing.

The waiter was kind of a dick at first. I think they all kind of are when you go to places like that and don't order booze. Honestly, if he had been nicer, I might've been convinced to get a glass of outrageously overpriced wine, but fuck that. I will not give myself a reason to bump up his tip when he's being an ass. Fail!

The Mexican and I ordered almost the same thing. In all honesty, I think next Restaurant Week I want to go with more people who want to try different things on the menu so that we can taste more things. However, the main course was so amazing, that we're planning on doing monthly lunches there to have another portion.

So here's the meal Maxwell. Eat your heart out.

Steamed cockles and pea shoots in this AMAZING garlicky sauce that we sopped up with delicious bread

Filet Mignon with Pomme Puree

Perfectly on the rare side of medium rare

Fruit Crisp with homemade vanilla bean ice cream

The Mexican overwhelmed by his THREE scoops of homemade raspberry sorbet. We were upset they didn't give him the option of having one scoop of all three of the sorbet options - next time

Continuing with the food theme. Last night I went out to meet the Mexican in Astoria (where he lives) to eat at the place that we've dubbed "ours" because we stumbled upon it one night and it was magnificent.

We shared this amazing roasted beet, arugula, candied walnut and goat cheese salad (which we got last time), these crab cakes that didn't taste greasy AT ALL and were flaky, moist and wonderful. We then shared a rack of lamb. Two pieces for each of us, over a tzatiki sauce with roasted potatoes and some of the best string beans I've had in my life.

I have now sufficiently made myself very hungry.

Let me quickly tell you about my Friday night though.

So backtracking to just after the Post House for amazing lunch, I convinced the Mexican to walk back to the office. We were there for almost 45 minutes before we met up with some coworkers before heading to the Stumble Inn for one of their going away parties. At first I wasn't drinking because I didn't know how much longer I would be staying and because it was so incredibly hot outside it was gross. I finally got a drink around 6:45pm and the Mexican left just before 7:30. This made me sad panda, but I decided to stick around. 

One of my future fellows bought us shots, as did another of my coworkers. I bought two pitchers of hard cider, so I always had a cup full and was ready to play pong (technically beirut, because there are no paddles). Anyway, I started getting way more social (as is what happens when I drink alcoholic beverages). My future fellow and I were exchanging information that we shouldn't have been talking about, and we were shit talking some people and random stuff.

Liquid courage took over and we signed up for pong. I was not nice to the shorter guy that we played against. I kept telling the taller one that I liked him and that the little one was mean. We lost and then they lost to this guy who was playing by himself. BIG OL' DOUCHENOZZLE. He wanted to put money on the game and one of the people who was with our group, my new partner, agreed. I think it's an advantage to be playing by yourself. We lost, obviously.

I returned to the table that we had sniper-ed out from under other patrons. I went towards the bathroom and was stopped by these two gentleman. One was about my height, maybe a little taller, with STUNNING blue eyes and basically the all around cocky asshole vibe. (This was shortly thereafter confirmed). The other was a very tall blond boy with very thin lips and not a smile to be found. He kind of looked like the shorter one's midwestern (confirmed as well) bodyguard, but he was slim and not very menacing. More creepy. I made him laugh later in the evening though. Aww Montana boys.

The short one (the only real talker), told me that he wanted to play my partner and I in pong. I said sure, and I called him an Aussie, because that's what his accent sounded like from the first sentence. Slightly offended, because I bruised his BRITISH ego, he continued on with the conversation saying something or other that I wasn't listening to. Something happened and I told him he should buy me a shot. He offered me a shot and I said vodka, and he said he was only offering a tequila shot, and I walked away.

I'm so cool when I drink it's not even funny. At this point I had already told Feather to meet me at the bar, so she showed up. We were drinking more and I spoke to the Brit and the tall one again, but I think some girl got pissed at me because she wanted a piece of the Brit. I chuckled and let her have at it.

We lost another game of pong and then Feather and I left.

It was so hot outside. I don't remember the train at all. Getting there (oh wait, I might remember waiting for the 6 train) but I don't have memory again until we got off the train and were in Union Square trying to figure out where to go.

We decided on Bar 13, (I've only been there once before and just wait until I tell you the story. keywords, blood, sex, booze, car, crime scene, voyeurism, AWKWARD) and after trying to sneak our way in, I paid the $20 for Feather and I to go in because I was drunk and thought we would find refuge from the heat inside (WRONG)

We made our way to the back of the club and were dancing, but it was so hot and my bag was sticking to my skin. It was still fun though, but drunken KG doesn't know how to stay out of issues that aren't hers. So some girl wasn't getting out of this guy's VIP section that we were basically standing in, and had security come over. They got into a fight and she must've swung at him, because next thing I know he's choking her out and smacking a bitch up. I was trying to pull him off (mind you, he's at least 6'5", 250 and has a hard cast on his wrist - like the type that could kill someone). He flips out and tells me to get off of him, Feather pulls me off because it's none of my business and they escort the lady out. I honestly just didn't want the security guy to get in trouble because he could've fucked this girl up and she could've probably pressed charges. I talked to the security guy later and explained what I was doing. He said he could take care of himself. OKEY DOKEY BIG MAN.

We made friends with the bouncers and then we skeedaddled. It was too fucking hot and some guy spilt his drink all down my back. It was TIME TO GO.

We went to the train and parted ways. I almost vomited/passed out in the train station from being so hot and drunk and having no water (actually I did have water but I didn't drink any) and the train took forever.

I ended up at home safe and sound though, and didn't leave my house until Sunday.

Stay tuned for feelings...and Bar 13 memory.