We were headed to Broadway-Lafeyette, 12" before which we were stuck, so we could go upground to Bleecker Street, underground (medieval system) again to connect with the 6, and then to Grand Central and the Oyster Bar, to which Vince had never been. He said he had overdosed on oysters when he worked at Club Med and would like to give them another chance. Yay!!
To pass the time we started making movies and taking pictures of ourselves.
...at last. At Broadway-Lafayette, upground, we saw firemen sluicing something away with big hoses. Lots of police and ambulances. We never found out what it was...
The 6 took us to lovely Grand Central. Vince had not seen it restored. The ceiling was its turquoise self and I pointed out the famous black tile, left uncleaned to show how it had been. We headed down the wide, acoustic ramp with chandeliers overhead.
I had told him we should sit at the bar or at one of the horseshoes on the right hand side of the restuarant proper. Because there would be the crotchety oyster men and old-timer lady waitresses who bark. True to form, we were barked at and ignored. I was pissed off. Vince reminded me why I chose to sit here... But once we settled down at the bar, having been kicked from the horseshoe, and having at last been brought our Neil Ellis chenin blancs by our taciturn Indian oyster man, we were happy. Half a dozen kumamotos and half a dozen malispinas from British Columbia, and two sea urchins!!! I hadn't had one of those since my first and only at Iso's in the East Village, shortly after he got shot in the wrist by the crazy man who held up Bar Veloce next door and sprayed everyone with kerosene. Anyhoo. These were wonderful and each quite different. One of the sea and sweet, one somehow like fresh fruit. I thought mulberries, Vince something else...
Happily sipping my South African chenin blanc in one of my best places with the best man...
This very rigid man made soup all the time we were there...
Our second glasses of wine were even nicer.
My Frenchie. Happy with the oysters broiled with anchovy butter. Happy with Oysters Rockefeller (eaten in honour of my dad and Dinner at Antoine's) - we hated the clams casino.
It's a good place. Vince left a very good tip. It's the first time we saw anyone smile.
By "we started making movies and taking pictures of ourselves", what Marie means is we began fulfilling our duty by entertaining the other passengers in a very tense situation that could easily have resulted in a terrible panic and which only our usual silliness kept under control...
ReplyDeleteThe oysters Rockefeller... rocked. The place, too. And the company... Best ever. :-)