I have always wanted to eat at one of the big ones, New York's best eating establishments like Le Bernardin, Daniel, Per Se, or Jean Georges, but they were simply too expensive… Enter Jean Georges' phenomenal $28 lunch, a comparatively economic way to enjoy the finest foods in a refined environment. It was the perfect spot to celebrate my sister's engagement and with much excitement we all headed over to Trump Tower one Saturday afternoon.

We decided to each get three dishes and a dessert and of course had to try their cocktails, especially when one contains Makers, seltzer, passionfruit juice, and chili – yum. I'll tell you now, with drinks and additional dishes, the bill will balloon before you know it, but I will also tell you know that it is completely worth it – and if you don't believe me, listen to this phrase “Foie Gras Brulee“.

But I am getting ahead of myself, lets begin with the setting: a large airy room with giant ceilings, tall windows, gleaming whites, the greatest two seater chairs I have ever seen, and attentive service. A classy, clean and simple yet elegant backdrop for the delicious food to come.

It all began with an amuse bouche of smoked salmon, warm cauliflower soup, and tangerine. Next Meghan and I opted for the Sea Trout Sashimi that came displayed like abstract art with trout eggs, lemon, dill and horseradish. It was wonderful and fresh tasting. Adam was thrilled with his brussel sprouts with avocado, pistachios and mustard vinaigrette.

My sister and I agreed again on second courses, along with the rest of the table, with the delectable Foie Gras Brulee. One of the single best dishes I have ever had. The crisp sugar shell with the creamy richness of the liver atop the toast was balanced perfect with just a bit of tartness from the Pineapple-Meyer Lemon Jam. Truly heavenly. Jim had gulf shrimp with silky pumpkin, ginger and basil – a dish clearly so good, it was gone within seconds of this photo.

For mains, we ordered (Meghan) sweetbreads with licorice, grilled pear and lemon, (Jim) veal with quince-pineapple compote and roquefort, and (Adam and myself) Black Cod with Honshimehi Mushrooms and Lemongrass Consomme. All were truly excellent. These items are currently still available on the autumn menu, but the dishes changes seasonally, so you may find a whole new world of flavors available pretty soon.

Already the lunch dessert menu has changed slightly, so my apologies if my recollection of the exact ingredients is a bit shaky from here on without the menu to guide me. My sister and I had a taste of Autumn dessert which included a berry mousse with meringue and a cinnamon doughnut. Jim had the “caramel” which included a chocolate pop, coffee-cardamom ice cream, caramel curd, dehydrated sponge, and roasted pineapple sorbet while Adam went chocolate crazy with chocolate cake, vanilla bean ice cream, warm chocolate gnocchi, grapefruit and basil. To top it all of we were given tasty chocolates, tiny cookies, and hand cut vanilla, banana, and berry marshmallows.

Some other Jean Georges restaurants have begun a Winter promotion due to the economy where lunch is $24 and dinner $35. Call the restaurant to make sure they are participating.

See more: Restaurants

Be the first to leave a comment →
Posted on January 5, 2009

It's really crazy that I've neglected to honor Frank Frazetta here before. He, along with Vogue Magazine, Cyndi Lauper, The Talking Heads and Manhattan Transfer were the biggest influences on me as a really young kid. Frazetta's work particularly helped shape my aesthetics and love for the Dungeon and Dragons side of life.

I use to pore over books of Frazetta's amazing art with my dad in the basement, dreaming about sitting atop dangerous hilltops, surrounded by goblins, looking sexy and hardcore in a metal bikini (which also inspired the design of Princess Leia's famous costume). I would watch the movie Fire and Ice over and over again (one of the first movies I ever recommended here) and even to this day, I wear his artwork almost daily on my back.

He was largely successful as a commercial artist, doing work for movies like The Gauntlet, The Fearless Vampire Killers, and Mad Max, and album art for bands like Molly Hatchet (another prized possession is my tour t-shirt with his Flirtin' with Disaster art on it). Of course, now he's finally respected as an artist and his work sells for thousands (which is why I'll have to settle for tee shirts and patches until my ship comes in).

He grew up in Brooklyn, and according Wikipedia, “attributes much of the violence and brutality of his later paintings to his actual experiences as a young man defending himself from the street gangs of Brooklyn”. Another interesting and exciting fact is that he and his family run a small museum on their estate in Pennsylvania –? museum that I will of course be going to once it re-opens in May.

I really adore and admire Frazetta, possibly more than any other living artist. I thank my dad for introducing him to me and I hope that maybe I can introduce his work to the few people reading this blog that aren't already familiar with it – and I'm thankful that he's been so prolific over the years.

See more: Style Icons: Male

Be the first to leave a comment →
Posted on January 5, 2009

Amadeus was a film that captured my heart and my imagination and really, what six-year-old isn't moved by old men in insane asylums wrought with guilt, tormented by their own mediocrity and young, careless prodigies haunted by the spirit of their fathers?

It compelled me to write book reports about Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, (which, if I remember correctly, were mainly about how reality and the movie differed) and the soundtrack is quite possibly the most played album in my life – and yet I've never recommended it here; so now I will rectify that.

All tracks are famous recordings of Mozart's except for the awesome early 18th century recording Bubak and Hungaricus and Stabat Mater composed by Giovanni Pergolesi. Poor Salieri has no music of his own included.

The Academy of St. Martin in the Fields is an English chamber orchestra founded by its conductor Neville Marriner. This soundtrack is their most famous work; it was an extremely popular album, even breaking into the mainstream billboards, a difficult feat for a classical album.

Like most things that inspired me growing up, I have my dad to thank for my taste for this enduringly popular music. My sister and I would play the music constantly. Later, I even used Zaide in my wedding.

There are many re-issues of the soundtrack, I've learned that the one I've been listening to the past many years is a special two disc set that accompanied the film's laser disc release. It's hard to find, but not necessary, as many of the same recordings are available on the original and subsequent double disc sets.

See more: Albums

Be the first to leave a comment →
Posted on January 5, 2009

Of all the things I've meant to do for this resolution week, completing Oblivion by the late David Foster Wallace has been the most difficult. That's not to say that the stories are not astute and satisfying, but the rewards of these sometimes maddening short stories can be hard earned. The writing often follows obsessive and painful threads of thought with no rational linear pattern or relief. In short, it reads – as sadly it was –?ike the last musings of a man broken down by the perceived absurdity of life.

By far the best stories in the collection are the dense “Mr. Squishy”, a tale of the absurdity of advertising focusing on a focus groups called in to test a new snack cake called Felonies! – the name was inspired when an idea man ordered Death by Chocolate in a restaurant. It's an extremely detailed, extremely strange short story that seemed to last forever as I waded through page after page of endless lists of snack cake adjectives and the increasingly bizarre neurosis of the protagonist, the almost classic frustrated working man flailing in unimportant work and lost dreams.

The book ends with the equally strong, and slightly less difficult to get through, “The Suffering Channel”, which is a roundabout 9/11 story about a magazine writer sent to learn about a man who creates art with his excrement. It's absurd and memorable while still delivering stoking the perpetual state of dread and slight disgust at the futility of the world that permeates the book (the entire time you're reading about these people obsessed with writing small lifestyle articles, you're reminded that they will all die within a few days), but it's the most airy, inventive and… fun (for lack of a better word) of the bunch.

Other not so fun stories include the painful, heartbreaking “Incarnations of Burned Children”, which is about the bleak and terrible tragedy of a burning baby, and a tale about a man whose just committed suicide after accepting that he will always be a fraud called “Good Old Neon”. That particular story earned him the O. Henry prize, for good reason, but it's far from uplifting and I struggled to get through it.

I had to put the book down several times and finish the stories between other books, but it was worth the effort to get inside the last ideas of this greatly missed creative talent.

See more: Books

Be the first to leave a comment →
Posted on January 5, 2009

Tales of the ill-kept secret Milk and Honey bar, where at one time you could only enter if you had been given the ever changing phone number by an already trusted regular seemed the stuff of legend and had I not known people who had actually went through the hassle of obtaining the number, I probably would have let the famously exclusive Sasha Petraske hot spot remain off my radar and to do list forever.

See, I am not one for hassle and when I heard that they had changed their policy once again to make it where only members with a special key would be able to enjoy the hallowed dim cocktail walls, I knew that Milk and Honey was just a place I'd never see the inside of.

Fortunately for me, though, good friends are among the few who nabbed a key and they were kind enough to invite us there on Jim's Birthday. In a time when “speak easy” is the trend for drinking, this place trumps them all, as it should since it started the whole thing. The entrance is truly nondescript, even a bit sketchy: an unmarked beaten up thick gray steel door in a quiet apartment building, as you walk in you half expect that there's been some mistake and you'll end up in a stranger's living room past the thick curtains.

In fact, the space is not much larger than a living room and the ambiance is minimal: the lights are very dark, the booths are a bit battered and cozy, the music soft. I can't imagine the place would make any sort of real impression on those expecting a level of fanciness for all the secrecy, particularly if those lights were turned all the way up.

But superfluous decoration is beside the point of Milk and Honey, a bar truly and utterly devoted to the notion of substance over style. The experience here is about a civilized environment in which to enjoy perfect cocktails. Plus these expertly cocktails all cost $9; a price which is a steal compared to the $11-13 that absolutely everyone seems to think they can charge these days.

There are no crowds here and to our surprise, no menus either. You simply tell your kind and knowledgeable waiter what sort of drink you fancy and they come back with a custom made concoction. I opted for bourbon, starting with a frothy ginger spiced highball and moving on to a simplified take on the old fashioned. Jim found happiness in his beloved Chicago fizz.

It's a strange place in theory. In some ways it's a stand against the celebrity obsessed, over hyped bar scene. No name dropping or obnoxious behavior is tolerated, but at the same time, it's become an almost uncomfortably elitist corner of the city (in theory). After such a wonderfully pleasant evening there, however, I stepped outside and decided I may just enjoy being an elitist sometimes, so long as it means secret keys that open doors to places like Milk and Honey.

See more: Drinks

Be the first to leave a comment →
Posted on January 5, 2009