Today, I had lunch at a voce with a former colleague at SELF. Below, the amazing brussel sprouts and foccacia, along with a window-side view of Columbus Circle. Which looks much nicer from above than when you are in it (as is the case with many things).
And the other night, I dragged my friend to my favorite neighborhood Italian spot. I know better than to try and suggest that visiting Italians eat pasta, but I did manage to get her to sit at the bar and talk with Maurizio, the charming Sicilian bartender, who proceeded to pour us several glasses of (free!) wine. (What can I say? I'm a good customer.) Around us sat visiting Italians, talking in that mellifluous tongue I love. (But still can't speak.) It was like a little bit of Rome in New York City. What could be better?
