Saturday, December 3, 2011
I walked home from The Brooklyn Hospital, where I had been visiting my friend Betty (who is doing better). Juniors was all lit up. I have eaten there once, kind of, when friends of Vincent's were in town from Little Cayman. Mark was adamant about going and we sat in a mirrored booth late at night after dinner elsewhere and were brought behemoth-sized wedges of cheese cake and lemon meringue. We seemed to be inhaling the Orley Whip and jello of the late 50's, and perhaps we were. Seasonal cooking means nothing inside Juniors. Querying the provenance of ingredients would raise an incredulous eyebrow. I should try and eat a meal there, taking copious notes. Tuna melt, that sort of thing.
Perhaps I like tuna melt.