Snow is falling all over Manhattan as drunken revelers stagger from the effects of the heavy drinking that started this morning as part of the tradition of celebrating St. Patrick’s Day in this country. I saw a guy yell at his girlfriend, a guy fall down, and several small and large crowds screaming and speaking loud enough to be heard across a large room.
Prior to this, last night, surprised the wife with a birthday dinner @ Daniel. Now, folks? Folks, this here is French. Some restaurants, why they call themselves French, but they are about as French as I am. Their idea is comparable to the great number of Chinese and Korean owned restaurants that call themselves Japanese. People pay more for French than American, more for Japanese than Chinese or Korean.
Anyhow, as I was saying, Daniel may be my favorite French restaurant in the country. Lively and merry room, staff that is conveying down to earth fun, and, of course, beautiful food: European turbot, Liberty Farm ducks, Perigord black truffles, and so on. Finesse, precision, and top ingredients. The best restaurants use the best ingredients.
Earlier today, post-parade on Fifth, a lovely lunch at Esca, my favorite go to restaurant. John Dory, Spanish branzino, razor clams, spaghetti with lobster.
Here’s the deal, in a word: FOCUS.
In between bites: Matilda. In a word: WOW.