Don’t ever do this: go to FAO Schwartz the Saturday after Thanksgiving. It definitely goes down as one of those ‘who’s-bright-idea-was-this-anyway” moments and for once in my life, it wasn’t mine. My husband came up with it and I’m thinking it was a result of the “Tito’s” party the night before – he was brain damaged.
Of course, I could’ve stopped the insanity before it started when we saw there was a line to get in the stupid place. It was roped off like “Studio 54” and a frazzled looking employee dressed as a tin soldier, was failing miserably to keep order. The problem is the bad-stroller-drivers. I realize it’s a toy store, but when it’s as crowded as a Tokyo subway, can we please leave the strollers outside with the irritable granddads?
And another thing, antiperspirant may be illegal in France, but when you guys are visiting here, do us a favor and put it on, okay?
So, thankfully my husband didn’t kill anybody the torturous twenty-minutes we were in there. I decided not to push our luck and go straight for lunch instead of putzing around. We still had a ton of leftovers at home, but I was done with them. There’s only so much of your own cooking you can eat – even Samu was saying “no” to pumpkin pie and that’s like me saying “no” to beer – red alert.
To justify eating out when we had so much leftovers, we went for Japanese food because sadly, I can’t cook Japanese cuisine. Menkui Tei on 56th Street between Fifth and Avenue of the Americas, is a ramen shop I used to frequent way before having the midgets. It was still there, although renovated and upgraded from the “ramen shop” feel.
Two orders of gyoza (pork dumplings), one tatsuage (fried chicken pieces), two salmon onigiri, and a bowl of ramen. That’s what the midgets ate.
Mind you, the bowl of ramen was supposed to be for me. They hijacked it. In their defense, the food was really good. The gyoza was delicious (Zuki let me have one). Crispy bottom, just enough nira (garlic stems). Bet Ava and Grace are drooling right now – I know I am, the boys left me nothing.
As we left, the boys thanked the staff in their Westernized Japanese saying, “origato” instead of arigato but the Maitre d’ smiled and why should I care? Because the next time, I’m going alone so I can eat.