calling a spade a spade

Maybe it's not a bad idea for every restaurant to name itself according to its menu. Though it would drastically redefine the Zagat guide, it would steer us clear of the not-so-delicious. No more witty puns like "eat. on sunset". No more names like "Joe's". Just call a spade a spade. A place that sells really awesome spaghetti should be named as such.

I was lucky enough to be invited to dinner this evening at the aptly named Quality Meats. The bar area was crowded with business types meeting for drinks after work. I rushed through because I was late meeting Mr. Z and his friends from SNL - a few members of the technical team who were funny and incredibly smart. What you don't see when you watch the show is the faces of the people responsible for the fact that you are indeed ACTUALLY watching the show. The HD cameras take Tina Fey and produce the pixels that are compressed in a room (which I stood in and which was totally Mission Impossibly) that are sent to your local affiliate which are sent through a tunnel with little Alsatian gnomes who put them on your television. That's how they explained it to me.

In a dark booth under the stairs, next to a room with creepy meat hook chandeliers we were fed charcuterie plates and bottles of Robert Mondavi and Clean Slate wine. I ordered the crabcake to start followed by an aged sirloin cooked rare. I had originally ordered a rib steak but the waitress told me that it was too fatty to be cooked to a pleasant rare which meant with "a cool red center." Too fatty? I grit my teeth but allowed her to bring me the sirloin. The crabcake was essentially a mountain of crab with tangy bits of dill and mayonnaise topped with a crunchy bruleed breading. The sirloin was a bit tough but had good flavor and a singed bone which I gnawed on the next day.

For dessert, they brought us a selection on the house but I audaciously ordered two scoops - an orange creamsicle sorbet and a cookies and cream. Both of them were amazing. I don't say this often nor am I a huge ice cream fan especially as for dessert. The orange creamsicle was citrusy and creamy placed atop wedges of orange. The cookies were not just the standard bits of crumbled Oreo but also a homemade chocolate chip cookie resulting in a milky sweet chewy delight. I'd go back just for the desserts.

We stopped by Gilt at the Palace Hotel for a drink before heading home. More alcohol for the adults, water for me. The room was painted in gold and has been landmarked so the interior contains the original ornate carvings. To modernize the room, a god-awful wall was constructed which looks a little like a segmented igloo with violet lighting shining up from the floor. I turned away from it because it made me angry. As an artist. As a person. As a person with eyeballs.

I saw the boys again live on Saturday night when I tagged along with Mr. Z to the first post-strike taping. I was met in the lobby of 30 Rock and hung out in the hallway behind the set before the show started. I've always watched the show through its many iterations of cast. An institution with a rich history headed by a brilliant Canadian and I was honored to be on the very floor where the magic has and continues to happen. It's not hilarious all the time but, that night sitting in the risers above the set, I'd have to say, during one particular skit, I laughed harder than I had in a year. Later that night at the afterparty, I told Bill Hader how much I enjoyed it. What a sweet, gentle person he was. Gracious and humble. Like THIS brilliant Canadian. I'm just calling myself a spade.