Chimichurri Grill

Luswin the Lifesaver treated me for birthday dinner at this very nice (emphasis on the nice) Argentine restaurant in Hells Kitchen.

(tangent: the city tries to promote this neighborhood as "Clinton". Anyone who has spent an August in Manhattan knows better.)

We'd been trying to connect over the last many weekends. But basketball - his new religion - and my aversion to weeknights kept getting in the way. So, we had a few months of reconnecting, reaffirming to do. Which we did with the help of his vodka and cranberry and my Tom Collins.

We started the meal with empanadas. He ordered the Churrasco Argentino with the namesake sauce. I had a small serving of rabbit stew over noodles and a side of asparagus. We finished with Panqueques de Dulce de Leche for dessert. I had a cup of coffee.

We finished the night with another round (or two) of drinks at Barrage. Finally we left for Penn Station where he was greeting a friend in from DC. I picked up a few toiletries for my upcoming weekend retreat and we said goodbyes. Hopefully not as long before the next meeting.

Mercato

Boss Lady took me to lunch for my birthday. I picked this small Italian place on 39th Street - just down the block from the NY State Correctional Services Parole Division offices.

We shared a bowl of olives and bruschetta with olive paste, tomatoes and mushrooms. I avoided the mushrooms, as usual. She ordered the ravioli and I had a bowl of pumpkin soup and the rucola salad. We each had a glass of red wine.

Our Uruguayan waitress made us giggle mildly appropriate Miss Universe jokes. Office gossip was at a minimum.