A Weekday Outing: Lady Who Lunches Edition

I have a friend who uses the acronym FOMO — fear of missing out — to describe why he hates turning down any invitation. I suffer from FOMO while sitting at my desk most days. I love New York and just know there’s a whole magical world of things that happen while I’m at work — all with fewer lines and more open tables. Friday afternoon I cut out of work early to see exactly what I’ve been missing.

I head straight for a late lunch at the normally booked Osteria Morini and snag a seat at the corner of the bar — the perfectly non-awkward choice for those dining alone. I love the Emilia-Romagna fare, including a crisp, colorful salad with apple cider vinegar, an intensely flavorful bean and grain soup peppered with heavenly homemade croutons, and one indulgent glass of Lambrusco. I finish the meal with an order of Affogato  —  a glass of homemade vanilla gelato drowned in hot, freshly-brewed espresso while I contemplate how much better this is than my typical take-out wolfed down between emails.

Wedding Weekend: Cleveland, Ohio

The best thing about going to a wedding (besides, um, bearing witness to the undying love and union of two people) is the excuse to visit a place you’ve never been before. Chicago or L.A. might be on your travel wish list, but not necessarily Cleveland, Ohio. (Or perhaps it’s just a bit farther down.) This summer we had fun exploring the (former) home of LeBron James (sorry guys), The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and one mean honey latte. Below, some of our stops and some things on the list for next time. . .

Gelato Tasting in Italy

Last December my husband and I took off for a (whirlwind) tour of Rome, Venice, Bologna and Florence. And while I wanted my Italian neophyte to get the very most from our trip (I carefully and strategically planned hotels, restaurants, museums, walks) I put practically as much time into plotting our gelato detours. Because while I couldn’t wait to see Italy again through my husband’s eyes — the Pantheon, the David, Piazza San Marco — I also couldn’t wait to eat as much gelato as humanly possible in nine days. Below is a list of the most notable places we visited.

Tara’s NYC Birthday Celebration

For Tara’s 30th birthday we opted to congregate in (my current home and perpetual pick for best city in the world) NYC.

Tara fled sunny-and-sixty-five Houston, her husband and boys and — braving New York’s third snowstorm this winter — miraculously made it on Thursday afternoon. I cut out of work a little early and we trekked one block to Pacifico for a late afternoon snack. It was a perfect beginning to our weekend — just me and Tara, catching up over “yardbird” quesadilla and red sangria by the fire.

On Friday morning, Mom, Tara and I faced more snow to eat the best pancakes in Brooklyn (and most likely in all of New York) at Cafe Luluc, headed to Luda for a brow shaping, then checked into the Waldorf. We “ladies who lunch”-ed at Telepan on the Upper West Side (an elegant and tasty three courses for $25), then walked through snowy Central Park on our way to see Monet’s Water Lilies at the MoMA.

NYC Winter 2010 Restaurant Week: The Bar Room at The Modern

We tested out New York City’s Winter 2010 Restaurant Week at The Bar Room at The Modern and weren’t disappointed. As advertised (or relayed in revered reports) every aspect of a Danny Meyers experience is good one.

From the moment we enter and are greeted by friendly-but-not-overbearing hosts whisking away coats, leading us to our table, we agree venturing out during RW is worth it. And we haven’t even tasted the food.

Moments later, we’re sipping bubbly beverages — craft beer for Eric, sparkling wine for me. (On a side note the wine list declares a RW special –20+ bottles of wine for $40 each.) In fact, the entire menu is set up for Restaurant Week, which is a welcome treat. Many participating restaurants offer a separate prix-fixe menu in addition to their regular menu, so it’s easy to feel like a cheapskate for sticking to the RW menu, even though it’s the entire point.

Mini Lotion & Potion Hoarder

It’s the middle of a workday afternoon and I’m sitting on the bathroom floor of my small Brooklyn apartment. I’m on deadline but I’m compelled, anyway, to sit on the cold tile and stare accusingly at the contents of the cabinet under the sink.

I’m a neat-freak by nature. I find clutter mildly suffocating and harbor a hatred for knick-knacks that confounds the women in my family. But after stumbling upon an Oprah episode on “hoarders” I’m suddenly filled with anxiety about my dirty (or clean?) little secret. Taking up every cubic inch of this cabinet, threatening my identity as a non-hoarding neat freak, wire mesh containers overflow with hotel-issued shampoos, conditioners, gels and lotions.