It’s Monday and we’re in Manhattan, nearly half way through our American Book tour adventure.
Meredith ate something last night that didn’t agree with her and is resting in bed.
I made an omelette and ate it alone here in the perfectly equipped apartment loaned us by our generous hosts, Melanie and Bruce, who live in Chelsea.
Yesterday we had lunch with two other old friends at Eataly–(should be pronounced eeeataly!) a newish arrival opposite the spickly span Flatiron building on the corner of 23rd Street and 5th Avenue.
Perfectly described by the ten-year-old son of the New York Magazine reviewer as “not so much a restaurant, more like a circus, with lots of food.”
Eataly, an emporium of eateries, draws its inspiration from Italy’s slow food movement.
Dazed at first by the Sunday lunch crowds and the enormity of it all…
it slowly (appropriately) comes into focus.
We choose Il Pesce, the fish restaurant, out of the six available.
Perfectly cooked Trout for Meredith, Octopus for me; Flounder for Betsy and Porgi for Bruce.
We leave two hours later (slow lunch!) happy and clutching a bunch of red Russian kale (see photo above) and a bag of groceries.