Siddity in the City

Yesterday, 12 hour brunch with Stolie, Bro and crew.

See, what had happened was, Stolie and I decided early on to have lunch, so we agreed to meet around 1:30 at Aussie haunt Eight Mile Creek (240 Mulberry, between Spring and Prince).

Australians, kangaroo meat and a back garden. What?

So we go, we head for the garden (since when did eight potted plants on a brick-enclosed patio become a garden? Oh, wait, I’m in New York. Nevermind. Besides, it was a cute little space, razor wire notwithstanding.). Stolie calls a bunch of people, she and I have lunch. People arrive, we have drinks, they have lunch. More people arrive, they have dinner, we have more drinks and snacks. More people. Drinks, dessert. We all take a walk when our favorite all-knowing, good-natured server, Tove, leaves. We go to 203 Spring, which has nil for people or atmosphere. We return to Eight Mile Creek. More drinks, more desserts, more snacks. Home by 1 am. A good time was had by all.

But. Spending 12 hours out means spending 12 hours worth of monies. Hm.

Damage for the day?

$115, tax and tip included. Which isn’t so bad, really, when you think about it hourly. You know, that’s less than $10 an hour. And I got 12 menu items for that money! And before you go accusing me of being a complete lush, know that I had a coffee, a dessert, and four small plates of food in there. Wait, now that think about all I got for that money, that’s a hell of a value!

Um. Yep. Anyway, I’m busted until payday.

So this morning, I got up and scavenged my fridge and cupboards to put together breakfast. Result? Coffee, tomato, capers, manchego and eggwhite omlette (thanks to the whites I saved when making that zabaglione), boy tongue. Teach his ass to demand a sammich…

Okay, fine, it was chorizo. Pft.