Meat Hangover

Last night, Seth, as he is prone to do, surprised me with dinner to celebrate six months of marital bliss. Over the years I have learned a few things about Seth's surprises: (1) he will NEVER tell me where we are going and no amount of cajoling or bribery will make him budge; (2) I will never be able to guess the location, no matter how hard I try; and (3) it is always spectacular.

This dining excursion was no exception. Seth somehow managed to score an 8:00 reservation at Minetta Tavern, a place with more hype surrounding it than a visit by the President. Generally, when mortals (i.e. non-famous people) call, they are told only a 5:00 or an 11:00 reservation is available. At best, you can walk in and stalk the people sitting at the bar hoping someone will get up so you can eat there.

All day yesterday I was excited for our date. We met at home and set off to the restaurant (still a mystery to me). We exit the subway at West 4th Street and start walking toward Minetta Street. Since I had recently abandoned any hope of eating at Minetta Tavern during normal dining hours it did not even occur to me that we were heading there. Then, suddenly, with the neon sign glowing in front of me, it dawned on me. The conversation went as follows:

Me: "We are NOT going to Minetta Tavern."
Seth: "I don't know, maybe we are."
Me: "Shut up, we are NOT going to Minetta Tavern."
Seth: "Ok, fine, we are going here" (gesturing to a lovely but not even close to as exciting Italian restaurant)
Me: "STOP. Are we going to Minetta Tavern? We cannot be going there. How did you get a reservation. Are you messing with me?"
Seth: "Go inside and stop acting like a fool."

Completely stunned, I step inside and it's glorious. Old school charm, incredibly nice staff and the FOOD. Oh, the food. I cannot begin to do it justice. Frank Bruni's review for the NY Times (link below) says it with far more poetry than I ever could.

http://events.nytimes.com/2009/05/20/dining/reviews/20rest.html

And the crowd... it must be mentioned. A mixture of people like us (nerdy new yorkers), models, celebrities (last night we dined next to Randy Jackson, Isaac Mizrahi and Steve Croft) and star f*ckers stood milling around eating and drinking. Keith McNally was there greeting people. It was surreal and hilarious and I couldn't stop people watching. Until the food arrived. And then, it was just me and the beef.

We ate the stuffed squid to start and naturally split the Cote de Boeuf. The beef was perfectly cooked with just the right amount of char. This morning, I am battling a vicious meat hangover (I am sure the bottle of wine is adding to my pain), but it is worth it. A fantastic meal with a fantastic guy to celebrate six glorious months. The cramp in my side isn't even bothering me all that much.

Oh, and as we walked out, what happened? The hostess gave us the private reservation number. I still don't think the number is real, but I am gonna try it. I think they put crack in that food because I am desperate to go back already.