art/craftsteak

I've had this 35" x 50" canvas prepped for several weeks, but somehow mixing 42 paint colors only took on a real urgency this afternoon when I got back from a kitty litter run to Target in Brooklyn. The 42 colors are in the wicked-cool triangluar Takashimaya bag on the floor at the base of the canvas. They are essentially the paint-by-number pots for this pattern.



John was nice enough to work late, so I actually finished all the mixing before he rolled in a little before 9pm. He had thoughtfully made our dinner reservation at craftsteak for 9:45, so there was plenty of time to clean up before we caught a taxi down to Chelsea. There was a little friction before we left, because some of us get a little crabby when we haven't eaten for eight hours.

Chhhack. Pftllb. Whrechk.

Excuse me. I had a little sarcasm caught in me throat.

I did not have my dinner caught in my throat, though, because that went down smooth. John got a beer and I got the best sidecar I have ever had. The graceful server brought piping hot little Parker House rolls and an amuse of toast points, house-made pickled veggies and a tiny cast iron terrine of chicken liver pâté, of which I ate every bite. We ordered a selection of local oysters (don't worry, not too local) and really enjoyed them.

We were very happy with our steaks, John with the T-bone and me with my hanger, though it was a good thing we had been warned by the very competent waiter that they would be served sliced, to facilitate sharing. This struck us both as a bit of a gimmick, but my real worry was that the temperature of the steak would be compromised. (I like a hot steak.) We shouldn't have worried: the steaks could have been a bit warmer, but they were nevertheless faultlessyly tasty. The sides of onion rings and roasted Jerusalem artichokes were awesome. We were too full for dessert or cheese, but the coffee was great, and carrot cake petit fours hit the spot.

Tables around us received small baked goods to take away, but we did not. Pourquoi? Perhaps an unspoken spending requirement, but more likely just our pastry curse in action. For some reason, we tend to get overlooked when free muffins are being handed out. For reals.