Fat Kid Vacations: New York

She lives!  Which is a small miracle, considering how much I ate in New York.  It’s obscene and I don’t want to talk about it.  (Except I do!!!)  Naturally, I want to play show and tell.  Ready?  Let’s do this, good people.

As you may know, all good adventures begin with nova salmon on a bagel.  A giant, heavenly mound of pastrami from Katz’s Deli made me panic that there wasn’t enough water on the planet to rehydrate me (so worth it).  Margherita pizza happened at Lombardi’s and Lil’ Frankie’s, because fat kids LOVE their pizza.  Oh!  And artisanal lemon/thyme/green peppercorn soda at the Brooklyn Flea Market reminded me of everything soda could potentially be–interesting, refreshing, and refreshingly lacking that whole syrupy noise.  Excellent, really.

As if the experience of drinking said beverage with a great friend while sitting by the water and staring at the view above weren’t pleasant enough, I made a new BFF.  She’s about 2 feet tall, infinitely awesome, and really into high fives.

This was pretty cool, too.  Brooklyn…  You do good work.

Things got international at the U.N.  And amazingly humbling, and, I dunno.  Flaggy?  Cunning use of flags, right there.

I stared at St. Patrick’s for a while.  Then I went inside and stared some more.

There was beer drinking: on a boat at daytime, and at a Czech restaurant at nighttime.  Hospoda pours Pilsner Urquell four different ways, creating totally distinct tasting experiences, by varying the amount of foam.  NEAT.

I spoke easy at a speakeasy.  (Then, I spoke not-easy at a dive bar, especially when I figured out how delicious pickle backs are and wondered why I’ve never had one, and maybe I decided that college failed me after all and I’m sending my degree back.)

Lunch at Prune was everything you’d expect from a Gabrielle Hamilton joint.  Astounding, really.  More on that sous chef salad later–I am determined to make a clumsy version of it myself.

Proper English tea and bangers and mash at Tea and Sympathy–that happened, too.  I also got a juicy story about a celebrity who acted an arrogant fool there and was told what’s what.  How cool is that?

I also did a lot of parking…

…of my butt…

…on grass.

I laughed at subway weirdness.  I’m a big fan of weirdness, above ground and below.

There was so much more that I’m not posting here, you guys.  Hot dogs with macaroni and cheese ON THEM.  Meatballs.  Cindy Sherman at MoMA.  The Union Square farmer’s market.  More beer, on a rooftop.  Two ‘wichcraft experiences.  Mario Batali’s Eataly, which I affectionately now refer to as IWantToGoToThere-taly.

I begrudgingly left, refreshed, a little sunburned (!) and inspired.  What do we do now, in the real world?  We make meatballs.  And buy a Soda Stream.  And high-five more people.  That means you…  And Chrissy and Travis, my New York hosts.  And Sharon from the Daily Meal.  Big thank-you high fives to all!