When I returned to NY I called for tickets. I asked for “best seat available,” and surprisingly got the seat directly behind V.
V is a food connoisseur of sorts, having been a private caterer when she wasn’t working as a marketing exec. She is an outstanding cook and appreciates good food. She makes a reservation at Lincoln, a new restaurant that opened this fall. It’s known for its famed chef, striking aesthetics, and stratospheric prices, where a single-scallop appetizer costs $24. It’s out-of-my price range, but I rationalize by saying I seldom eat out anymore, I see V rarely, she really wants to go here, and it’s right next to the theater.
I even research the menu before arriving. I click on the link for Lincoln Restaurant and then on the link for dinner. Everything sounds great and the prices are, well, inexpensive. $10 for salads. Entrees in the low $20’s. Pictures of the food are mouth-watering. Maybe Lincoln revamped their menu because the prices were too high? I suppose that’s possible. But more plausible is that I made a mistake. The Lincoln Restaurant I clicked on turns out to be in Portland Oregon.
I meet V and her friend, “handsome James,” who lives up to his moniker. The restaurant is all glass and glitter. Very striking. Despite reviews of an indifferent wait staff, ours is attentive and welcoming. The food is excellent, but not extraordinary. I eat the bread, a veal chop, and then a beautifully presented dessert of a mini multi-layered chocolate mousse torte with a small dollop of ice cream and a smidge of peanut butter, I think. We have a leisurely two-hour dinner.
James leaves and V and I go to see War Horse. The woman next to V graciously switches seats with me so we can sit together. The play is based on a children’s book, and is simplistic. But the pageantry of the staging is spectacular, and brilliantly creative. Majestic horses, manipulated by people you can see, transform into live characters. It is a remarkable theater experience.
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