Monday, March 24, 2008

Perry Street and Kenny's Castaways

Even though I am not done putting my apartment together, I did finish the actual move, so I am letting myself go out again, which I pretty much haven't done for almost three months, what with all the finding an apartment, packing and moving. It's been, to say the least, a real drag.

I haven't been going really crazy, but this weekend, some friends and I went to the restaurant Perry St. which, no surprise here, is on Perry Street in the Village. It is right on the Hudson, so the view - and we saw the sunset - was beautiful. I have a group of friends with whom I go out to dinners. We go maybe once a month. I almost never pick the dinners because I'm not much of a gourmand and my budget really only allows me the fancy dinner about as often as I go out with these people, so I'm not really in a position to try out a bunch of places and then bring one to the group. I don't mind, though, because it basically means that I have a restaurant-picking service. We've never gone to a bad place.

Anyway, the places we go to aren't always fancy, but this place was. I know this because my friends referred to the chef: Jean-George. That is to say that my friend, Kristina, said, "Oh, I didn't know this was a Jean-George restaurant." So now I know that someone might be impressed if I were to say, "Oh, yes, I went to Perrry St. You know, that Jean-George restaurant." However, this is unlikely to happen, because there is no way I'm going to remember this guy's name.

The other reason I know it was fancy is because they served an amuse bouche (pronounced ah-mooz boosh). I'm sure I've had an amuse bouche before, but I only just recently learned that there is a name and tradition for it. Before, I just thought it was an extra free appetizer you got in order to entice you to buy that thing next time. You know, like a sample. Really, though, it is to "awaken the tastebuds." I feel like a philistine. Anyway, the amuse bouche, which was served in a demi-tasse cup, was pea soup (but with a fancier name).

For an appetizer, I had tomato soup. For an entree, I had hanger steak with sauteed spinach and peppers. It was quite good and in spite of its small size, filled me up. (I guess I've gotten to used to American-sized portions. I forget that everything at popular restaurants are, for all purposes, super-sized.) Part of the dessert was crystalized violets. They looked a little bit like extraordinarily fancy pop rocks, but a little smaller. They were good. I can't remember the name of the wine we got. I know virtually nothing about wine, except it's color. We got a red wine and it seemed good to me.

Afterwards, some of us went to Kenny's Castaways, where every Sunday they have live karaoke (live meaning you are backed up by a four piece band). I did two songs. The first, I did okay on. The second was one of those experiences where you hold yourself up to others either as an amusement (that is, something to laugh at) or as a lesson (that is, what not to do). It occurred to me as I was half way through my second song, in a different key than the one which I started in - neither of which were the correct key - lost among the lyrics, and looking for help from the bass guitarist, that maybe people who only do karaoke while drunk have the right idea.

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