The Weekend

The sound system at Roberta's was playing a veritable John Hughes soundtrack. 

Roberta's

I met the Boy in the Checkered Shirt at Brooklyn Fire Proof on Sunday night, where he had been dancing up a storm in this heatwave.  From there we went with two friends to Roberta's for a late dinner. 

It's taken me some time to come around to Roberta's. I first noticed the hardly noticeable sign over the door of the cement block building, tucked away behind an ATM machine, about two years ago.  Without windows or an indication of the type of business, I kept walking. 

Finally, out of curiosity mainly, I walked in one day and was surprised to find the joint jumping and a wood-burning pizza oven.  They also have a garden and greenhouse and a sound studio.  I'm not sure what goes on in the studio. 

The Boy loves the pizza here, more than at Motorino, so it's usually the first place in the neighborhood he recommends. 

Between the four of us, we shared two White&Green pizzas and a Margherita.

Today on the L Train

This morning on my way to the train I sneezed.  I didn't have a handkerchief or napkin on me and so was wary of the universe of germs caught in the palm of my hand.  The train is, as a rule, a germ ridden adventure. The first thing I do when I get to work after touching the turnstiles, the bar for balance, the doors and elevator buttons at the office is to to head to the bathroom to wash my hands.

Today on the train was a woman furtively preaching her good word.  She was well dressed, tall, and loud.  She looked like she was heading to her day as a paralegal or social worker.  Her pitch and message was more polished, less crazed, less damning than the typical subway evangelist.  She was a professional.  I imagine she must have had some formal experience as a preacher.  Maybe she'd been ousted from her storefront church and had taken to the subway because she just couldn't hold it in.  

Normally when someone decides to insert themselves into the quiet between my ears in the mornings I try to block them out.  Normally when the intruder is preaching his/her version of biblical edicts the train takes on an embarrassed silence.  Today was no exception.  

When she was finished (at Penn Station/34th Street) she walked around the car and gave everyone a handshake.  She thanked us for coming to her temple.  Cautious of the sneeze I held in my hand, I held tightly to the pole when she approached me.  I smiled and she moved on.

The Weekend

Lionel and Jeremie returned from their weekend in Boston amid a rainstorm.

Blue Sky

While les Dutrucs are in town we rented a car and went for the day to the Hamptons. We wanted to visit the Channing Daughters Winery, home of the orange Pinot grigio. We were introduced to the concept of orange wines on Sunday night at Roberta's, which included a Channing Daughters on the menu.

(It should be noted that the Channing Daughters have no connection to Angela Channing.)

Sevag joined us and we took off for Bridgehampton in our zipcar. We visited the winery, tasted a few of the amalgamations, then headed into Sag Harbor for lunch. We discarded the winery's suggestion of a seafood restaurant and stumbled into this apparently Mediterranean lounge. Lionel and I had Cobb salads, Jeremie and Sevag ordered cheeseburgers. The three of them split a bottle of Rothschild Bordeaux. And then we headed back into the city to catch a game of baseball.

The Weekend

Lionel and Jeremie are visiting for a couple of weeks. The conversation inevitably goes to ex-boyfriends.

Eatery

Not to be confused with Cafeteria, the Boy in the Checkered Shirt and I surprised Luswin by showing up for his birthday dinner with Fritz. All things considered, it was a pleasant meal. We started at the bar - Luswin had his signature apple martini, the Boy opted for a glass of sangria, and I went with a Tom Collins. The bartender skipped the cherry and orange, so it was on the bitter side (just like me).

How to Make a Tom Collins

Fritz arrived and we took a table. He entertained us with stories about his life in the last 12 weeks. He had a lot to say. Fritz and Meer had the ravioli, Luswin went with the Tequila shrimp, and I ordered the sea bass.

Yakiniku West and Dieci

On Thursday the Boy in the Checkered Shirt suffered some collateral damage from an afternoon spent chasing a family member across the MTA system. We met up for dinner at our standby, Yakiniku West where we split a platter of sushi and sashimi.

On our walk home we passed by Dieci, a Japanese/Italian tapas and wine bar, operated by a friend of the Boy. We stopped in, saw another friend sitting at the bar, and sat down for a glass of wine. We were treated to a tasting of wines from the white list before the Boy decided on a 2008 Gavi and I opted for a 2009 Riesling.

The Weekend

The Weekend started on Friday, with a very packed subway.