Wilfrid

There are a lot of dystopia bagel places around.

Sugar Monk is so good. I used to go all the time when I lived five minutes walk away. Now it’s like, OMG, one to two subway stops, other side of the moon.

I don’t when I last went to a Mighty Quinn’s, but eating lunch now at the Village branch and the brisket is excellent. Tender, not dry, lovely streak of fat.

Dishes of the Adriatic coast. Like chicken liver with rhubarb, it says here.

That looks good. Thank you.

I am sure there’s a food fail TikTok.

At ESP HiFi (see Denver thread), I did say to the bartender (and DJ) that the price for martinis well made with Roku gin was so great ($12) and this was not a happy hour. She asked where I was from. She explained that she was from Boston and really missed the east coast, but could afford to live in Denver.

I was thrilled to see Ayo on the new Vanity Fair cover and I admire her so much. But I still don’t like the show.

Obviously I do, but they are in my head all day anyway.

With Below Deck over, Hacks over and SNL done for now, I was panicking. Fortunately the first episode of season 9 of Below Deck Mediterranean has arrived.

@maison rustique Exactly, the selling point at one time was making a roast chicken dinner with fixings. Of course, the manufacturers were making a big convenience pitch to “housewives.” I am about to reheat my Chinese takeout in it.

An hour delay flying back, which is fine, it just puts you through an hour’s anxiety about whether that’s the real delay or the airline is fooling and you never get home. At the airport I discovered a plastic-wrapped product called a Cheesewich, involving salami sandwiched between big (and appropriately non-greasy) slices of Jack cheese. Thank you, better for me than a muffin. I did get home to Harlem.

There are “shitty food porn” communities where people post photos of bad food. I admit I am keen to investigate further.

I have not been to San Antonio, although I may be there later this year.

A tale. I was trying to figure out the first time I was here. I would need to check the year. I had a round trip ticket to redeem from airline that took 36 hours to fly me from Nashville to New York. Denver had been on my bucket list for a while because of the Clyfford Still Museum. So that’s what I did. Stayed somewhere cheap downtown, drank in some dive bars, walked by countless downtown bail bond places because a storied green chili place was near the courts. Was under a tornado warning for the first time in my life. And took the walk out to Buckhorn Exchange. I get back there every time I’m in Denver.

Sadly no rattlesnake at the Buckhorn last night (I did ask), so the same meal I ate last time. A half portion of so-called oysters followed by some elk medallions. Even that half-portion is unfinishably large (if you want to eat the elk), and it’s followed by a large (included) salad. I’ve mainly eaten lunch here before and hadn’t noticed how limited the beverage program is, especially for what is in large part a steakhouse. There is an unpriced vintage list, but it’s vintages of wines you don’t really want. I finished with a Courvoisier, if you see what I mean.

My late aunt used to sell microwaves back in the days when they were kind of new. I remember she had microwave cookbooks and could prepare elaborate cooked dinners from scratch. It never appealed to me, but I am not sure why.

ESP HiFi is a cocktail bar in the Lincoln Park neighborhood. As the name implies, music is important here with two turntables behind the bar spinning vinyl (currently Bohannon). I thought it might be a hipster spot, but no, it’s a pretty space with young, well-dressed couples drinking from a list strong on tequilas and Japanese whisky. I am drinking an unusual martini made with Roku gin. It’s ten minutes walk from the Buckhorn which explains why I ended up here.

I had already started eating before I remembered a photo. Green chili with some shredded pork. Obligatory in Denver.

Wow. Ech. (They are not called “garden peas” in England. They are called peas.)

Ha, false memory. Looking at pinkpignyc, I actually had a rattlesnake-rabbit sausage, 40% snake. No wonder it was “a bit like rabbit.” Apparently I loved it. Sunday evening it looks like Tower Tap & Grill (the conference is in a beautiful location but nowhere near downtown Denver). This place is a short walk from the hotel. My memory (for what it’s worth) tells me I had a side of green chili here last time. But what was my big plate? Maybe a burger and I left the bun?

Your review brought back memories. Late 90s Cornelia Street was quite the dining destination. Pearl Oyster Bar, Le Gigot, Home, Cornelia St Cafe, all on that short strip. As for Po, I remember eating there with a gay barrister from London who had rented his glorious Marrakesh villa to me, but whom I was bound in some respects to disappoint.

Yes, but cooked I assume.

I was shelling “English” peas in England when I was a toddler and I can’t imagine eating them raw.

I had already booked some days later, oblivious to the anniversary. I could still sing.