Month: June 2009

Monday Sugar Rush: Two Little Red Hens

Monday has become my default “relaxation” day.  By “relaxation” I mean go to the gym, do laundry, and run any necessary errands: normal things someone does when they live somewhere, as opposed to just visiting.  However, I do not want to leave you readers with a lack of interesting reading.  Therefore, on these lull days, I will try to eat something of interest while running my errands/going to the gym/being a person etc.  This food item will probably be sugar-based, naturally.

Today I decided to visit Two Little Red Hens, an Upper East Side bakery which is much loved by SeriousEats (my food bible, in case you hadn’t realized).  The bakery is on 2nd avenue between 85th and 86th Street, right next to what looks like a German-style beer hall.  People were sitting outside, drinking beer from giant steins (they’re called steins, right Nora?)  A bit of googling got me the name of the restaurant, Heidelberg.  Might have to pay it a visit, if only for the experience.

Anyhow, after work I ran home and changed into my gym clothes and walked to Two Little Red Hens.  On 79th and Park I saw a cat, and I liked it.

Botero cat.  Meow.
Botero cat. Meow.

Everytime I walk around in this neighborhood I see something new.  Love it.

Two Little Red Hens is a small, homey, Americana-filled bakeshop with a pleasing array of adorable cakes, cookies, and cupcakes.  They didn’t have any tarts I wanted, and I certainly wasn’t going to eat a whole cake by myself.  However, they did have mini-cupcakes.  I have a certain fondness/obsession for miniature food: automatic portion control, easy to share, and it usually means you can try more than one thing.  So rather than get one large cupcake or one large slice of cake or pie, I decided to get three mini cupcakes: a marbled cupcake with chocolate ganache frosting, a red velvet cake cupcake, and a standard yellow cake with vanilla buttercream frosting. They were also giving out samples of the cheesecake, which was, dare I say, frosting on the cake.

Aerial view of mini-cupcakes.
Aerial view of mini-cupcakes.

The marble cake was extremely moist and whatever chocolate they use is strong–also, loved the frosting.  The red velvet cake was moist but not too sweet and the cream cheese frosting was really perfect.  The vanilla buttercream cupcake was the perfect, standard little cupcake: moist and sweet and covered in frosting.  I actually prefer my cheesecake a little sweeter than what the bakery prepared, but the cake was extremely light and delicate, so I give them points for the cake consistancy.  I’d absolutely return for the red velvet and vanilla cupcakes, but I don’t think I could finish off a whole chocolate cupcake all by my lonesome.

Another view of the mini-cupcakes, which brought mega joy.
Another view of the mini-cupcakes, which brought mega joy.

The cupcakes, all in all, were fantastic–not too wacky, not cloyingly sweet like other bakeries tend to be, just perfect little morsels of moist baked goodness.  I’ll have to return to try some of the bakery’s other comfort foods: pies, especially, and maybe a slice of cake one day?  Or a cookie?  I go to the gym so I may eat the cookies!

Now, back to laundry, and the best Star Trek: The Next Generation episodes ever: the arc where Picard becomes a Borg and the Federation faces mass destruction.  So.  Good.

Hair I go again on my own.

First, Happy Father’s Day Dad.  Yay.

Second, Happy Summer.

Third, I am happy to report that rock and roll is alive and well on Broadway.  ROCK!

This morning, well, mid-morning, Jessica and I emerged from my apartment to partake in the New York brunch.  We went to EJ’s Luncheonette, a diner-type establishment that had been recommended to me by one of the girls in my department at the Whitney.  Jessica got sweet potato pancakes with bananas and pecans, I had a more standard eggs and home fries (really excellent home fries, actually), with challah toast.  You know a restaurant is a winner when challah is automatic toast choice on the menu.

Jessica, enjoying her brunch.
Jessica, enjoying her brunch.
My brunch.
My brunch.
Jessica's brunch.
Jessica's brunch.

We window-shopped a bit to kill some time and also got a cupcake to split at Crumbs, as though we hadn’t had enough to eat already.

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The inside of the cookie-dough cupcake, which had chocolate frosting.  Win.
The inside of the cookie-dough cupcake, which had chocolate frosting. Win.

We then headed down to Times Square to get tickets for Rock of Ages at the theater’s box office using a little online discount thinger.  Our day-of tickets with discount had us in the second row of the orchestra, center on the aisle.  Um, win? We had a bit more time to kill so we wandered through Times Square, where they were having yoga, which is weird, and then walked to Rockefeller Plaza because we didn’t have anything better to do.

Mm, relaxation by the TGI Fridays.
Mm, relaxation by the TGI Fridays.
This was part of some Summer Solstice Festival.
This was part of some Summer Solstice Festival.
Yes the instructor is in leopard-print boxer briefs.
Yes the instructor is in leopard-print boxer briefs.

We went to the Al Hirschfeld theater, where Hair is playing, and took our seats up in the mezzanine on the aisle.  I love the Al Hirschfeld theater, tons of old Spanish-Medieval looking fixtures and ceiling paintings, just a lovely old historic space.  The stage, when we entered, was shrouded by a large scrim with a projection of the moon, which was presumably in the seventh house.  The playbill had a dorky hippie-esque insert, and there were many younger folk (read: teenagers) in tie-dye with silly head-bands.

The cast of Hair, spreading peace and love.  And hair.
The cast of Hair, spreading peace and love. And hair.

Hair was fairly awesome.  The cast is young and vibrant and talented and they are all in incredibly sexy shape, and they have to jump up and down and belt for the majority of the show.  They are all, indeed, extremely hairy people.  I went through a Hair original cast recording kick when I was sixteen or seventeen (the prime age for the naive idealization of the 1960s, I have found) and so was incredibly familiar with all of the music.  Some of the songs, “Frank Mills,” “Aquarius,” “Let the Sunshine In,” “Walking in Space,” “Easy to be Hard,” are really well known and beautiful and fantastic, and others, such as “Sodomy” and “Yes Imma finished with y’all” are silly but fun theatrical novelties.  On a side note, how odd must it be to have to tell your parents that you are the character who sings the “Sodomy” song, which has the opening lyrics of “Sodomy, fellatio, cunnalingus…”  Awkward?  Well, I guess it depends on the type of parents one has.

Will Swenson, as the hairy and dirty but sexy Berger, and Gavin Creel, as the fresh-faced and eager Claude, are both really excellent and bring heart and even a bit of plot to a musical that can seem like a hippie variety show.  The “plot,” if there is a plot, revolves around one of the main character’s draft number being called.  He grapples with the decision of whether to report to the army or to flee for much of the show.  The final image of the show was one of the actors in military uniform, sprawled dead over an American flag.  One of the more powerful political images I have seen in live theatre, ranking up there for mewith the end of the 1996 revival of Cabaret, and certainly a powerful image for our time.

Some other positives (there are many) about this show:  The onstage orchestra was awesome.  The choreography was fantastic and natural, very much what I imagined a bunch of hippies to do if they were told to dance.  Also, I was extremely glad to be on the aisle, as members of the cast run around and harass audience members.  Well, not really harass–one fussed with my hair during “Hair,” and one gave my sister and me flowers, and me a kiss on the head, during the invitation to the be-in.  We also got up-close and personal views of the dancing cast-members and their very tight, very low-slung jeans.  I mean, really, these people were in the best shape.

Also, we danced onstage with the cast at the end of the show!  Once the curtain-call is over the actors start pulling people onstage to dance to reprises of “Hair” and “Let the Sunshine In,” and Jessica and I had ensured that we were in position to rush the stage as quickly as possible.  So we and the flowers in our hair jumped and danced and sang and pretended we were hippies but not really.  There was an awkward moment when, caught in the moment, I lifted my hands up in peace signs–only to have one of my hands captured by the nearest cast member, the guy who played Woof (coincidentally the actor who sings the “Sodomy” song).  He held onto my hand for the rest of the dance, which was a little awkward but whatever, we were all in a moment of peace and love, man.

Despite all the fun and hippie nostalgia, I do have to give the show points for having at least one character (Sheila) tell the hippie tribe that they need to grow up.  I know that there is a lot of idealization of the 60s, and hippie culture, but I just don’t think that reverting to the past is an appropriate way to cope with today’s political situation.  I’m hoping that some of the audience’s younger members took heed of Sheila, as well as the production’s extremely somber ending.

Apologies for the brief and serious moment of political speech–I’m a little tired, and sometimes disjointed ideas just happen.  Regardless, Hair was a really wonderful, invigorating production.  If you have the opportunity to see it, do it.

Beads, love, freedom, happiness.
Beads, love, freedom, happiness.

We left the theater, all kiddy and peaced out and whatnot from dancing onstage, and grabbed a quick slice of pizza at our favorite theatre district pizza joint.  We then went on a hunt to find my soy-milk based soft-serve at Kyotofu.  We went past the Hair theater on our way to Kyotofu, and saw Audra MacDonald standing outside, just hanging out.  She’d clearly just seen the show.  We gawked for a moment, all fangirl like, and then kept walking.

Why hello to you too, Audra.
Why hello to you too, Audra.

After a bit of searching around 9th avenue we found my soft serve.  I’d read about it, of course, on SeriousEats, my food bible.  I got a green tea and chocolate swirl with some green tea mochi.  The soft serve was incredibly creamy and not too sweet, and if you fed it to someone without telling them it was soy-based rather than dairy-based, they would never know the difference.  Jessica, however, was less willing to branch out in terms of soft serve, so we had to make a Red Mango stop for her.

Kyotofu is awesome and I will go there again and they had many other adorable looking desserts.  They also, evidently, have rocking cupcakes.
Kyotofu is awesome and I will go there again and they had many other adorable looking desserts. They also, evidently, have rocking cupcakes.

By the time we had both satisfied our need for soft serve it was 6:35, and time to head to the Brooks Atkinson theater for our next show, Rock of AgesRock of Ages is an 80s jukebox musical with really awesome songs such as the “I Want to Know What Love Is,” and “We Built this City,” and “Sheila (Hold On)” and the Act I closer of Whitesnake’s “Here I Go Again On My Own” and the Act II closer “Don’t Stop Believin'” and “We’re Not Gonna Take It” and “Every Rose Has It’s Thorn” and “The Final Countdown” and well, you get the idea.  The plot is pretty standard Broadway: dreams and boy meets girl and following your dreams and boy loses girl and more dreams and a wedding and a baby at the end.  However, the onstage band was an 80s band with lots of hair called Arsenal (they were awesome) and the female ensemble had to play strippers.  Seriously, there were two poles on the stage as part of the set, and they were well used.  At the end of the show one of the actors emerged dressed as the Angel of Rock, with giant wings. He shot glitter on us.  Also, before the show started the ushers handed out little clicky flashlights shaped like lighters.

The cast of Rock of Ages, bringing the rock, and rocking it hard.
The cast of Rock of Ages, bringing the rock, and rocking it hard.

This was like one of the best shows ever y’all.

Constantine Maroulis (of American Idol Fame) is surprisingly watchable and talented.  We had an understudy in the female lead, but she was fine as well–though Jessica was disappointed to have missed Amy Spanger.  The figure of the narrator, who resembled a thinner Jack Black with a mustache, was sort of awesome.  I need to type this man’s bio out for you verbatim, as it was…well, I have never read a bio like this.  And this was after reading all the bios in the Hair playbill, mind you, which talked about zodiac signs and love and bliss and transcendental meditation and such:

Mitchell Jarvis (Lonny).  A single father of a Lhasa Apso named Elroy looking for SWF.  Experience in ceramics a plus.  Ploy experience a must.  Enjoys lazy afternoons working in his raised-bed garden.  Seeking a kindred spirit to spend rainy days reading Thoreau with a steamy mug of organic Tazo chai in his matching sage green Snuggies.  If thi sis you, see you at the stage door after the show.

Um.  Yes.  Anyhow, I totally rocked out to the show.  I fist pumped.  I made little devil’s horns thingers.  I sang along.  I waved my fake lighter like a compulsive maniac.  It was totally fun, and a fitting follow-up to Hair.  I told my sister, who really doesn’t know much music outside of Broadway (she only knew two songs in Rock of Ages, I just don’t know what to do with that girl, goodness) that she was witnessing the evolution of rock in the middle of the twentieth century via these two shows–from socially-minded, politically important music to the music of the greed-is-good 80s which was all woo sex drugs boobies big hair loud guitars fun noises boobs.  She sort of looked at me funny when I said that.  Whatever, I think I had a point.

I also appreciated that Rock of Ages had no pretenses: the narrator said multiple times that this is a ridiculous touristy fluff entertainment musical with Whitesnake songs, and I loved that.  Sometimes, as Constantine Maroulis’ character so wisely says, you just wanna rock.

I wanna rock.
I wanna rock.

Wow, that was a long post.  Thanks for reading through the entire thing, and for dealing with my pseudo-exhausted ramblings.  The point of this post is that I love musical theatre and I love musical theatre done well: vibrant casts, not taking itself too seriously, audience participation, audience enthusiasm.  Today was an excellent day of theatre, I feel extremely invigatorated.  Tomorrow: back to work.  But that is all right–it will be relaxing, after running around all weekend!

“We don’t have plays in Minnesota.”

Brat sister is in town, which means I’m going to be seeing a lot of theatre these next few days.

Slept in this morning, woke up, went to the gym.  I think I saw Jenna Fischer, who plays Pam from The Office, at the gym, but I wasn’t sure–she was sweaty and not wearing makeup, and also wearing a really large frumpy pink shirt.  She did look at me oddly when I glanced at her, so maybe it actually was Pam.  But who knows, I don’t watch that show.

She looked like this, but with more sweat.
She looked like this, but with more sweat.

I ran some errands post gym, then went home to shower and prepare for my sister and…sit around and wait for my sister forever.  Jessica finally arrived around 4:30, and we headed out pretty quickly to go to Times Square and brave TKTS.  And the rain.  For today was another gross, cold, rainy, humid, awful day.  Anyhow, we went to TKTS, and stood in line for awhile (munching hamentashen from Roxy’s, which is useless for anything other than their hamenthashen) and eventually got tickets for 9 to 5, the musical based on the movie from the 1980s.  Dolly Parton wrote the music and lyrics, so how bad could it be?  Also, the cast is fun, and the creative team (Joe Mantello directed) is impressive.

After the TKTS adventure we went to Hell’s Kitchen to have a real actual sit down dinner that didn’t involve a rushed slice of pizza.  We went to Wondee Siam (II) and had some delicious thai food.  We split steamed vegetable dumplings and curry puffs as well as an order of chicken pad thai.  We may be boring but everything was yummy and sometimes one just wants predictable.

Steamed dumplings, because you can never have too many dumplings.
Steamed dumplings, because you can never have too many dumplings.
Curry puffs.
Curry puffs.
The inside of filled things: the curry puff had sweet potatoes and veggies and curry, the dumplings had minced veggies and peanuts.
The inside of filled things: the curry puff had sweet potatoes and veggies and curry, the dumplings had minced veggies and peanuts.
Pad thai for peace.
Pad thai for peace.
Jessica and her pad thai.
Jessica and her pad thai.

We left dinner and had some time to kill, so we wandered around the theatre district and made a stop at the monumental and awesome Drama Book Shop (tons and tons of plays, and a kitty!) and window-shopped at Anne Taylor Loft and the Gap.

The rain ultimately drove us, a little early, into the Marriott Marquis hotel/theater where we waited around and tried to dry off until the house opened.  We took our seats at the back of the theater and watched the tourists in their jeans and t-shirts and sweatshirts trickle in around us.  Look, I don’t expect black tie, but theatre used to be an event and people used to get really dressed up for it.  At least but on maybe, a nice pair of jeans and a nice pair of shoes an perhaps a collared shirt or a blouse?  And sneakers, really people?!  I mean, really.  A little effort, please.

Yes, this post is full of theatre snobbery.  Deal.

Anyhow, the show itself was really fun.  The three leads, Allison Janney (in the Lily Tomlin role), Stephanie J. Block (in the Jane Fonda role) and Megan Hilty (in the Dolly Parton role) are all good in different ways.  Allison Janney really can’t sing or dance but she is delightfully dry and funny and can deadpan like no one else.  Also she is really tall.  Also she has a drug-fueled fantasy sequence where she is dressed up like Snow White and skips around the stage, and it is really awesome.  Stephanie J. Block has an excellent voice which she showcases in her song at the end of the second act, “Get Out.”  Megan Hilty does a fun and perky (very perky) Dolly Parton impersonation–it could also be annoying, depending on how you feel about Dolly Parton.  I personally find her kind of charming.  Oh, also, Marc Kudisch (who I love) is fairly amusing as the boss, which is a pretty thankless role, but Kudisch has a phenomenal voice and evidently can flex his chest muscles separately?  Is that the sort of thing actors put on their “other talents” portions of their resumes?

The three leads of 9 to 5.
The three leads of 9 to 5.

Dolly Parton’s music is enjoyable but she isn’t entirely suited for Broadway, particularly lyrically.  “9 to 5” is stuck in my head, however.  The choreography worked with the idea of the 9-to-5 grind, but Jessica was correct in stating that it was “just like In the Heights, but without hip-hop.”  Same choreographer, go figure.  I also really liked the use of the digital screen in the background, it made for some amusing visuals.

During intermission I was in line with a bunch of high schoolers who I think were here for some sort of dance program, as they were talking dance classes.  They were also talking photography in the theatre, which, among ringing cell phones and people in jeans and t-shirts, is one of my major audience annoyances.  They were debating whether or not they could take photos of the show, since no announcement had been made pre-show.  I sort of bugged my eyes out at them and told them that no, photos were absolutely not allowed, for both legal purposes and for the safety of those onstage.  When I said this, one of the girls sort of wrinkled up her face at me and said, and I quote:  “Oh, well, we’re from Minnesota, and we don’t have plays in Minnesota, so we don’t know.”  That was quite possibly one of the oddest things anyone has ever said to me; it took great effort to not laugh.  Okay so I’m a snob but come on, there must be culture in Minnesota.  The Walker Art Center is there, and like, urban centers, and such.  I don’t know, I’ve never been to Minnesota, it is cold there, that’s all I know.

Anyhow, final verdict on 9 to 5 is that it is highly enjoyable and entertaining and filled with lots of talent.  Not what I would call a great critical achievement but I had fun, and that’s all that matters in the end.

After the show Jessica and I got some yogurt at Red Mango.  On a related note, check out this ridiculous article from SeriousEats about Pinkberry delivery.  I agree with the final statement: Red Mango, please deliver!

The only way to make this better would be to deliver it to my door.
The only way to make this better would be to deliver it to my door.

While walking back to the subway from Red Mango we passed Marc Kudisch in civilian garb (though he still had his gross porny mustache; talk about suffering for your art!) and Jessica had a nerd moment and told him that he’d done a great job in the show.  He seemed to appreciate it, and probably appreciated not being bothered any further on his way home.  Yay random sightings.

So now we’re both in my apartment, getting ready for bed.  Tomorrow we will get up and either go to the gym/for a run or go to brunch, depending on the weather and how we feel.  We have tickets for the matinee of Hair (yay two drug-fueled fantasy sequences in one weekend!) and are hoping to get tickets for Rock of Ages which could possibly be the best thing ever.  I mean, they give you little glow-stick lighter thingies to wave.  How cool is that?

In the meantime, I leave you with one last bit of evidence as to the supreme nerdiness of my sister:

OMFG HARRY POTTER.
OMFG HARRY POTTER.

Chinatown Food Porn.

At one point during the evening, which is recounted below, I said to my friend and dinnermate Brad: “My readership appreciates photos of food.”  Brad called this the line of the night, and fittingly this post is filled with photos of food, better known as food porn.  Enjoy the photograzing, as the food-bloggers call it.

After work today I took the subway down to Canal Street to meet Brad at a restaurant in Chinatown.  My downtown excursions rarely take me south of SoHo, let alone beyond Canal Street, so this area was a bit out of my zone of familiarity.  Also, the idea of eating dumplings in Chinatown really excited me, and I have been quivering with excitement since Thursday, when Brad mentioned the possibility of a Chinatown dumpling excursion.  I’d been to Chinatown once before, with my family, when I was maybe 15.  We ate at a fabulous restaurant whose name I cannot remember.  We were the only white people there.  We also bought some trinkets.  It was a good time.

I get off the subway at Canal and Lafayette and it is a sea of people.  A madhouse.  Utter insanity.  Maybe even worse than Times Square, because I was in totally unfamiliar surroundings and people kept asking me to buy handbags.  Tons of tourists were wandering around, lost, and many locals as well.  Luckily, Brad had given me excellent directions to the restaurant where we were meeting.  I walked east on Canal and crossed Mulberry Street, which also holds the entrance to Little Italy.

Little Italy, in the middle of Chinatown.  Maybe one day I will go to there.
Little Italy, in the middle of Chinatown. Maybe one day I will go to there.

Canal Street has the worst congestion of people and vendors and madness.  I do not like.  But I had to fight the people to get to Mott, so fight I did.

Some large building off in Chinatown.  I have no idea what it is.
Some large building off in Chinatown. I have no idea what it is.
All the signs were like this.
All the signs were like this.
Mott Street.  Look very closely at the stop signal.  Seriously.
Mott Street. Look very closely at the stop signal. Seriously.
Okay, I'll give y'all a close up.  Seriously, I can't figure out if the sign burned out or if someone did this on purpose.  Regardless, it made me laugh.
Okay, I'll give y'all a close up. Seriously, I can't figure out if the sign burned out or if someone did this on purpose. Regardless, it made me laugh.

I turned right onto Mott St. and headed into the belly of Chinatown.

I have arrived.
I have arrived.

I then made a left onto Bayard Street where I met Brad at Nice Green Bo restaurant, which used to be called New Green Bo.  The menu is huge but they are known for their appetizers, particularly their dumplings and scallion pancakes.  Neither Brad nor I were fools, plus Brad had been here before, so we stuck to the safe bets.  We ordered tiny pork and crab buns (essentially little fig-shaped dumplings), fried pork dumplings, and scallion pancakes.

Tiny pork and crab buns.
Tiny pork and crab buns.

The steamed buns arrived first, piping hot.  Even though I waited a few minutes before popping my first one into my mouth–you eat them whole, so you can catch all the delicious trefy juices–I ended up slightly burning the tip of my tongue.  Graphic food pornography here: the dumplings explode juice in your mouth and then there is a lot of chewing because there is a lot of dumpling.  The dumpling was pleasantly salty, excellently hot, and extremely full of meat but I wish there’d been a little more crab flavor.  Still, the shape of the dumpling was adorable, especially the little crab meat topping.

Looks so cute, I could eat it.
Looks so cute, I could eat it.

They then brought out the fried pork dumplings, which had a bit more flavor and texture than the steamed dumplings.  I thought the dough casing was really excellent: crispy on the outside but very chewy on the ends, and the filling was flavorful and had more spices than the steamed dumplings.  Still, the fried dumplings were hard to finish–dumplings are incredibly filling, evidently.

Brad and I tried, but failed, to finish all of these.  A monumental task.
Brad and I tried, but failed, to finish all of these. A monumental task.

Lastly, the waiter brought out the scallion pancakes, which were awesome.  Not too scallion-y but just scallion-y enough, the pancakes were fried dough that was neither too thick nor too greasy and I couldn’t stop eating it.  I heart scallion pancakes.  I could’ve made a meal out of them.

A new food obsession?  Maybe.
A new food obsession? Maybe.

Nice Green Bo was a yummy intro into Chinatown dumpling eating.  Maybe not the best dumplings I’ve ever had, but the scallion pancakes were super awesome and I would eat those again in a heartbeat.  Also, one of the most inexpensive meals I’ve had since I’ve been up here.  I cannot complain about that.  Additionally, and perhaps most importantly, the Chinatown Ice Cream Factory was right across the street.

WIN!
WIN!

Despite being stuffed I decided to get some ice cream–I’d heard a lot about the shop and its unusual flavors, and I didn’t know when/if I’d return to this part of town.  I got a small cup of taro and black sesame, both of which were unusual but not too unusual.  Taro, which is basically a root, has a mellow sweetness and a purple color which I love, and the black sesame paste had a pleasantly crunchy texture and a nice nuttiness.  It also looked a bit like oreo cookie ice cream.

Flavor win?  I'd say so.
Flavor win? I'd say so.

Brad and I then trekked to Bleeker Street to go to a bar in the West Village.  Bleeker Street, especially once you hit Macdougal and beyond, was extremely hopping: tons of restaurants and people and about five or six places I had read about on SeriousEats that I must must must try, including two ice cream places (Grom and Cones).  Even though I had just had ice cream it took a great force of will not to have more ice cream.  I am serious about my ice cream comparisons.  One day, my friends, one day.

I love watching New York City night life.  Tonight was the first non-rainy night in almost a week, so people were out in full force.  Brad and I headed to the Bleeker Heights Tavern, which is located about a Five Guys Burgers shop (you actually have to walk through the restuarant to get to the bar) at the corner of Bleeker and 7th Avenue.  The bar is a spacious, clean, well designed (exposed brick) and well lit (skylights! big windows!) sports bar with a relaxed crowd.  Brad and I scored a table by a window, which allowed for ample people watching on the streets below.  A few of Brad’s friends and Eddie Burgess, an old classmate from Pine View showed up.  We had a few drinks, talked about stuff, reminisced about how awesome the first Mighty Ducks movie was, watched the Rays lose to the Mets, etc.

A view of the New York night life, from Bleeker Height's Tavern.
A view of the New York night life, from Bleeker Height's Tavern.

I left a little after 10:30, as a few people had already departed and I wanted to get a decent night’s sleep to prepare for my sister’s arrival tomorrow.  I arrived home around 11:30 and now I am blogging for you lovely readers.  Jessica arrives tomorrow afternoon, and I will proceed to spend the next few days in a theatre.  Expect lots of reviews of shows over the next few days.  In the meantime, I leave you with this image of one of my favorite drinking vessels of all time: The Delirium Tremens glass.

This is not my glass, as I do not drink beer.  However, I love the pink elephants on the glass, and therefore took a picture.
This is not my glass, as I do not drink beer. However, I love the pink elephants on the glass, and therefore took a picture.