Eating New York

It is possible that I may be prone to hyperbole. It is also possible that I am part of a whole generation that is guilty of exaggeration. But food like I had this last weekend in Manhattan requires no literary embellishment.

Among the culinary marvels I experienced while in New York, was the exceptionally understated Balthazar. Although I have not yet had the opportunity to visit Europe I suspect that Balthazar is reminiscent of the quaint eateries one might find there. Although it occupies a surprisingly large space it manages to be both bustling and intimate all at the same time.

Tiny tables for two are wedged in so tightly that one sits nearly as close to the stranger at the next table as to one’s friend across the table. But never mind this. It doesn’t detract one bit from this restaurants old world charm. In fact it provides all the more opportunity to ogle, sniff and salivate over not just one’s own culinary choice, but also that of one’s neighbor…. Oh, I’m so sorry… I really didn’t mean to take a bite of your food. I thought it was my own…

Being the devout coffee lover that I am, I was delighted by my bowl-sized cappuccino, which was appropriately frothy and tasted intensely of espresso. The eggs Florentine were a completely different matter. Delight is far too weak a word to describe the intense and nearly sexual emotions I harbored for this miracle of eggs, cream sauce, artichoke heart and spinach. If this dish had only had genitals I might have discovered the love of my life!

Balthazar’s eggs Florentine are a culinary marvel. The flavors of the delicately soft yolk, the cream sauce and the fresh artichokes, meshed with the spinach into a symphony of sumptuous bliss in my mouth. I’m afraid I must issue a formal apology to my company as I was so deeply immersed in my new found love affair with the eggs Florentine that I simply made soft deep moans in response to my friend’s attempts at pleasant breakfast conversation. No matter, the eggs and I will always have that moment…

Balthazar's website

Excerpt From a Letter to a Friend

Dear E

I arrived in DC on Thursday and now it is Saturday. Only two nights and I miss home already. It is part of my role to be a bright and shining individual who is positive in most things, but I know that you won't mind if I confess to be lonely here. I find it is very hard to be away from my own bed, my cats, my garden. On the bright side it is beautiful here. The sky is completely blue, clear and it is about 75 or 80 out. The seasons are so polarized here. I hear the last big snow bank only just melted two weeks ago in Baltimore! And yet the row house down the street has a rose bush with hundreds of blooms bursting forth. The contrast is a startling one.

I am staying in a little one bedroom apartment. It is quiet and (thankfully) does not resound with the ugly hotel sounds that I loathe. There is something about hotels that is simply too sanitary. It is as though they have washed the personality from them. At least here I can feel the intentions of the landlady, who by the way is the most lovely sweet blue eyed woman from the Czek Republic. She is in and out of the building constantly lugging bits and pieces she has retrieved from Ikea to improve her apartments. I receive daily offerings on my doorstep. Today it was as though Saint Nick had made a stop. I opened the door this morning to a set of stainless steel pans, some crockery, cooking utensils and an array of unlabeled boxes. The day before it was a Britta water pitcher.

Okay, enough of my ramblings. How selfish of me to assume you want to read all of these trivialities about my trip. Can you tell it is lonely here?

xoxo
Allie

The Girlfriend Experience

Ah, yes the GFE. The term has been overused, misused, carnally redefined and debated over.

(If you have yet to be privy to these conversations and feel your life will be the lesser if you are not, then see your local online chat community. If you don’t know which one, then I guess you’re out of luck because I’m not going to advertise for any here.)

Generally speaking the greatest abuse of the term occurs as gentlemen struggle to carnally define it. I have seen GFE summarized as French kissing, a blow job (minus a cover) and some form of genital penetration. It sounds crude doesn’t it? If you are excited by this description, you sir, are not a romantic.

This definition of GFE is woefully inadequate when applied to a true companion. In order to be an extraordinary companion a woman must seek to enjoy your company, engage you in conversation, know your inner longings and strive to see your strengths as a person. She must surpass the superficial in that she also seeks to be known by you herself and to give you an honest portion of her being as she receives a portion of yours. This exchange cannot be summarized by a simple menu of sex acts and does not even necessarily have to include a sex act of any kind.

And yet, no doubt, for many ladies (and gentleman as well) this crude list of services does summarize and define GFE. But doesn’t this debase all of us? If GFE is simply a list of sexual services, then where is the consensuality in it? And if not done with true consent and integrity of being then where is the joy? It follows to ask if it is joyless and simply obligatory how does the experience resemble the passionate love affair a man might have with his girlfriend?

Perhaps a different tact is in order. Perhaps there are some who would argue with my belief that companionship should involve the intention to know and be known by another. For those of you who are of this mind I would like to leave you with a thought.

In some way even our fictions hold the substance of our own truths. It is impossible to get away from being ourselves. So with that I will leave you with something a dear friend of mine likes to say, “you be you.”