Staten Island, Grey Gardens, and Morimoto's

Rosie & Duane visit!

First stop, Staten Island. Yep, it takes out-of-towners to get me to brave the big orange ferry to Red Island, land of the SUVs and Rush Limbaugh bumper stickers. The day was sunny so we had lovely views of Liberty Island and such. We took the train down to the southernmost spot, Tottenville! Not much around so off we walked, more like wriggled, in a search for a lunch spot and a much needed bathroom. Found a local Italian place for relief. Ah! Then back up the Island and to Manhattan. We shuttled up to Columbus Circle to check out the stars and have a spot to eat at the new Bouchon Bakery space on the second floor. The food was so-so but the bread was delightful. I'm a bit upset they took up such a prized public area where I used to just hang out and watch the people and traffic below. But at least now there is an alternative to snacking on Dean & Deluca fare from the Border's counter. I personally don't shop at the TWC expect an occasional trip for groceries in the Whole Foods located in the basement. I do, however, love to look at the Christmas stars that light up to the sound of the music playing. I also love to browse the scattered art collections sprinkled about the common spaces and in the gallery on the second floor. Now if I could only save up enough to go eat at Per Se.

Stage Deli
Met up with Rosie and Duane for lunch at Stage Deli. Luckily the line was fast-moving and R&D arrived just as we were getting a table. They had taken advantage of the good weather in the morning to walk about Central Park. I had my standards - matzoh ball soup and chopped liver sandwich - I order the appetizer since the sandwich is way too much for me. Duane had the bagel and lox and Rosie had the corn beef, if I remember correctly. All good NYC Deli standards that just don't taste right out of the Empire area. Personally I like Artie's better. It is not only closer to me, on Broadway in the Upper West Side, but they have better coleslaw and always have the pickles and such on the table for your wait. I also think their chopped liver is smoother and tastier. Carnegie Deli is probably the most famous and I do love their brisket and the atmosphere. I always meet interesting folks there - seating is family style. R&D like Katz's Deli but I haven't been there yet so I can't compare.

We took a leisurely walk past Radio City Music Hall and through Rockefeller Center. Bounced by the windows at Sax Fifth Avenue - weird snowflake story which sounds rather pervy when hanging with the like of Duane. Our minds are constantly in the gutter. I made fun of the 'special' school's four-pointed snowflakes - I can be such a bitch. Poor Rosie was seriously crowded by two pushy nuns behind her - the tiny personal space bubbles New Yorkers get used to is not comforting for out-of-towners, and even myself. Given an early arrival for the play, we settled into comfy chairs at the Crowne Plaza to chat. I must have been rather loud because one lady behind Rosie added her comment to our conversation about Inwood - where her son lives. New York is just a great place to eavesdrop.

Grey Gardens
whine, bitch, and complain ... to music!

We love celebrity voyeurism, especially if it involves the rich and famous when they fall. Edith Bouvier Beale and her daughter, 'Little Edie' Beale are two eccentric and possibly senile old women when we met them in the documentary Grey Gardens. This musical divides their worlds into two acts, the first being at the prime of their social elite status surrounded by friends and elegant surroundings at their estate in East Hampton. The mother-daughter bickering is shrill and painful. Mrs. Beale is portrayed as a showy, self-centered prima donna in search of an audience while her daughter struggles to find a good marriage. Mrs. Beale's gay friend, George Gould Strong, serves as companion given her husband is always in Manhattan with his mistress. Mr. Beale serves as the patron. His two granddaughters, Jaqueline Bouvier (Kennedy Onasis) and Caroline Lee Bouvier (Canfield Radziwell Ross), are thrown in so the audience knows what regal lineage the family is from. By the second act, we jump several decades to the decaying, animal infested grounds of Grey Gardens where Edie and her mother are still bitching and whining at each other, the emotional decay now seen in daylight and drama, physically manifested in a litter box of a house.

The Broadway musical attempts to take an avant-garde approach to such strange and idolized women. They cast Christine Ebersole as the mother in Act I and then as Little Edie in Act II. They structured the music in operatic style similar to Light in the Piazza. The staging and fashion reflect the posh but social settings in Act I contrasted to the squalor and craziness in Act II. All of this sounds intriguing and interesting but only those who love to dissect structure and praise squelching histrionics of diva women will like this monstrosity. I laughed at Light in the Piazza when they sang words like 'corduroy' but overall the actors projected and carried the songs as best they could; modern English opera masquerading as musicals don't work for me. This cast in unable to bring their Off-Broadway success to the larger stage at the Walter Kerr. Their notes fall flat and seem to just drop into the audience at row 3. Even a wonderful little number for Mr. Beale in Act I titled Marry Well lacks any zest. Such a song should be delivered with a bit of a wink and a lot of frivolity and zippy fun, as if Maurice Chevalier were American. Mr. Beale's is looking into the little-girl eyes of Jacqueline and Lee with the audience knowing they will be, thank heaven, wives of some very important, rich men. John McMartin plays it too flat, nothing interesting to give the role. Ebersole and Mary Louise Wilson try to be weird and deliver some sort of magic to their roles but both come across as caricatures of crazy women. I felt drag queens could have delivered a more poignant and restrained performance. And did we really need to see Wilson, flabby armed in bed in her nightgown, sing a some about her corn boiling in a pot beside her? Horrid, horrid, horrid. Enough of screeching women and bizarre songs falling into space. The critics who love this must all be under some goddesses spell of idolizing wacky rich old bitties or tone-deaf. Avoid this unless you're the kind of person who loves hearing women bicker during the holidays.

Morimoto
Iron chef ... rusted

Market before being told the restaurant was located outside just With great anticipation, and gratitude to R&D for hosting me, we trekked over to West Chelsea by the Market to dine at Morimoto's. We joined another friend from our days in the Battelle Film Club, Betty. We first wandered through Chelsea Market Northwest of the market. Mob Squad hosts and waiters glided us through the ultra stark decor of white plastic and glass. This minimalistic design would give the impression of cleanliness if you didn't notice the scuffs and untidy state of the bathroom. The four of us ordered the tasting menu, omakase, which started on a high note with a tuna tartar plate served in a rectangular flat with strips of accouterments. Fabulous flavor and presentation. Everything went downhill from there. The sushi course was mushy, the lobster overpowered with Indian spice, and the white fish rather unassuming. The most disappointing dish was the foie gras oyster. The pinkie sized piece of seared foie gras was fine but smothering it and the sweet, briny oyster with sticky brown stuff reminiscent of teriyaki sauce should be grounds for banishing the cook to K.P. duty for a month. When asked if Mr. Morimoto was there, we were told he was not. Perhaps this was the reason for the below-grade quality of the materials used but no excuse for the poorly conceptualize menu. Given the price and reputation of this place, more should be done to ensure a better meal. At least that's one less restaurant on my list to try in NYC.