I could not have been more disappointed by the latest report from the Wall Street Journal. While I love a good steak, I live for hotdogs! Hey, when you munch a dog, you knowingly accept the risks. I think I might just go and have a hotdog from Crif for lunch.
I used to stop at this joint just about every day when I lived and worked in Boston. I’d catch the commuter train into North Station, pick up a few slices at Half-Time and then catch the Orange line to the office. This is the best morning pizza out there.
I don’t know about you, but I never saw the parallels between mozzarella cheese and handrolled cigars. Fortunately, I was able spend a few minutes with Anthony Fauci of Obika, who filled me in on the details. This interview was conducted shortly before the most recent De La Concha cigar dinner that Obika catered.
As you know if you read this blog, I’m a hot dog fanatic. I could live on that wonderful (almost) food. So, I was psyched to meet Montreal food insider Katerine Rollet for dogs in both Manhattan and Montreal. I’ll be writing more about this for Gadling, but here’s a look at the video she put together.
If you’re planning a trip up to Montreal (which I highly recommend), follow Katerine on Twitter.
When I go to Alice’s Teacup for breakfast with my wife, I have an excuse. She’s the reason I’m there. One of my friends described the place as “girlie,” and she’s probably right. I don’t care. I like it. With my wife out of town this weekend, I had to summon all the courage I have in my masculinity to go there alone; somehow, I was able to do it. I was rewarded for my efforts with small, tea-type sandwiches, warm scones, and a tea with the name “African Dew.” I liked it. Every bit of it.
What really blows me away about Alice’s Teacup is the waitstaff. The waitresses not only wear fairy wings while doing their jobs (and doing them well), they seem comfortable dressed that way. You get the sense that the young lady bringing you your roasted cumin carrot sandwich dreamed of wearing fairy wings to work as a little girl and is now living the dream. They seem happy, and I’m happy for that. I want to wear a cape to work and just can’t get away with it. Sure, their chosen (or required) attire seems a bit odd to me, but they are happy. That’s what matters.
I’m sitting on my stoop, writing and smoking a cigar. I do this most evenings. Some lady walked over from Bistro Cassis, a restaurant a few doors down that has outside dining. I was nervous. Whenever someone approaches a cigar-smoker esecially from a restaurant, the outcome is rarely pleasant. Well, she commented on the “wonderful aroma” and mentioned how it is nice to smell smoke while dining on a French meal. I agree; it makes the experience more authentic (at least until recently, as Paris passed a smoking ban). She asked where I got the cigar, because she wants to pick some up for her son. Occasionally, surprises are nice.