Beautiful Lucy. We should all look as good at ninety or at eighty or at seventy – you get the picture. Her wonderful daughters threw a charming birthday party in an elegant apartment on East 73rd Street. Lucy and her family have inhabited it for a million years. It’s one of those places that’s suffused with big and little feasts to the eye: a Narwal tusk, colorful throws, etched champagne glasses, photos of the gorgeous family and of travels all over the globe, and books, books, books with Lucy’s favorite biography in prominent view: Lesley Blanch’s The Wilder Shores of Love.
It wasn’t prescribed but it sure was therapeutic. An hour after a short stay at Weill-Cornell, a friend and I directed the taxi to Rosemary’s on Greenwich. The perfect pain killer was the weird and delicious lemon zest pasta and a glass of dry white Vernaccia. Before or after lunch, climb the stairs to the orto and view Sixth Avenue and Greenwich Street from Rosemary’s rooftop garden.
Although its dark cozy interior is seductive on a rainy, windy night, The Waverly Inn is too aware of its own charm. It’s tired. On a recent visit, the food was fine but could be found in any upscale Manhattan restaurant. The white wine was mediocre. Remember how exciting the Union Square Cafe was until it went into the tourist doldrums? Watch out Waverly Inn. It could happen to you.
Down memory lane: a friend and I went to Pangea on Second Avenue to hear two jazz foot soldiers: Baby Jane Dexter and Ross Patterson. It was a big, brash, sentimental, sound, as intrinsically NYC as the bare brick walls.
“Waverly Inn – worst food in the city” – Donald Trump. This surprising statement is printed at the top of The Waverly Inn’s unique menu. I asked a waiter if the statement were true. Indeed it was, he answered, but Mr. Trump said it without bothering to come to the restaurant. If and when the Donald deigns to dine at The Waverly Inn, I recommend he start with oysters, followed by Dover sole with Hollandaise and then finish up with a scrumptious chocolate confection. After that I dare him to repeat his derogatory remark.
On Sunday, a friend and I went to the Emmanuel Baptist Church Jazz Vespers:. It’s a lovely way to spend an afternoon. The friendly congregation dresses up. Many of the women parishioners were in red for Valentine’s Day. Eric Wyatt, the saxophonist, led a quartet of bass, drum and piano. Monty Love Crowe was spectacular on piano.
List some of your favorite foods that begin with D: duck, dumplings…Get thee to The Red Farm on Hudson. Go early. They don’t take reservations. There’s communal seating but if you’re lucky you can be seated at one of the three tables for two people. You’ve guessed I’m not a fan of communal tables. The dumplings and lovely duck skin – yum.
Friends and I went to 466 Grand Street on an icy Saturday afternoon to see Visible Histories: American Abstract Artists.The fifty-nine members of the eighty year old institution combined new techniques with old. For example, Clover Vail made a bold abstract design with ball point on a wood block.