Earlier this month, my oldest son and I went to the city and got us some culture. It began with a cheap (less than $120 for the night) hotel way downtown, which became an afternoon performance at the Met, a Downton Abbey exhibit and visit to the super cool oculus. Our time in NYC coincided with some of the coldest weather of the year (decade?) and we were lucky enough to have some surprisingly good options for dinner nearby in an area that has not always been known for evening dining options. On a friend’s recommendation we decided to give the just-around-the-corner Dead Rabbit try. Here’s how it went…
First of all, I had no idea that this place was so highly regarded. How highly regarded is it? Well, it was dubbed the Best Bar in the WORLD in 2016!
Reading the various reviews on Yelp and Tripadvisor also informed me that the space is divided into 3 floors with the middle and upstairs floors requiring entry from a staff member. While the first floor Taproom would have sufficed had I been on a date (as it seemed that many of the pairs surrounding us were), the second floor Parlor was where I set my sights. I had gotten the impression that it might have a bit more elbow room than was available downstairs. I requested seating on the second floor and within 15 minutes, and about midway through my delicious warm Clontarf punch, we were ushered to two seats at the cocktail bar in the Parlor.
My immediate impression? There was so much to check out! Interesting looking people, walls covered in memorabilia, along with an impressive array of small bottles containing various cocktail ingredients provided a visual feast. We were presented with the current cocktail list – a graphic novel telling the story of original Irish gangsters with drinks inspired by their exploits, and adorable little teacups of a special punch. I drank them both since my son is 20 for another 6 weeks and I’m not one to waste good alcohol. The small food menu provided options that were well matched with the frigid weather and overall classic vibe and we selected the fish & chips for my son and the chicken pot pie for me and settled in at the bar. The lighting, music and warmth of the space combined to make a very comfortable spot to spend a couple of hours – at least for me. Liam’s stay was a bit more brief.
Our meals were served piping hot and appropriately portioned for the price. My son polished off his plate completely, while I couldn’t quite manage my entire meal opting instead to sample another concoction created by the friendly and professional bar staff. Not finding exactly what I wanted on their list, I requested a bourbon cocktail with a Manhattan-esque flair and was rewarded with a beautifully balanced drink that was precisely what I was seeking. This is a terrific spot despite all the hype that surrounds it. Check it out!
Filed under art, Boys, Dinner, drinking, Irish, Music, NYC, Observations, Recommendations, Restaurants, road trips, winter
My bedside manner is seriously lacking. Don’t believe me? Ask my middle child – the one I told to put a Band-Aid on the cut which eventually required 8 stitches. He’ll corroborate my complete fail as a nurse, trust me. The most recent example of my abysmal diagnostic skills occurred last weekend. Let me tell you about it.
Saturday my youngest son was a guest at a birthday party held at Skyzone, a trampoline place in Menands. Sidenote: Waze pronounces Menands “men ands” which cracked us up each time we heard it. Anyway, I arrived to pick him up at the end of the party only to find that he was limping and unable to put any weight on his left leg. I pulled the car up to the door and brought him home where he settled in on the couch. I looked at his leg and noted no swelling or bruising in the area where he said it hurt – the back of calf. He declined Advil or Aleve and seemed fairly comfortable. I diagnosed a “pulled muscle” and figured he’d feel better in the morning.
Sunday morning he woke up and said his leg hurt and rated his pain a 6 on a scale of 1-10. I gave him Aleve and suggested a bath with Epsom salts. Despite my medical care and advice, he continued to hop around the house, something I found more than a little annoying. See? I told you I’m a horrible nurse. He began to soften his stance about not wanting to go to the MD. With his blessing, I called the pediatrician’s office and spoke with the doctor on call asking him how to proceed. He mentioned that the Bone & Joint Center had walk in hours until 3:00 and suggested that as our best move.
We arrived a little after 1:00 and checked in. The waiting room had about a half dozen people in front of us, but we were seen after about 75 minutes, a time span I didn’t find unreasonable. Quinn hobbled to the exam room, pausing to be weighed and measured (he’s a giant, btw) and, after a short wait, a PA came in to examine him. X-rays were obtained and I think we were all surprised to see the fracture in his fibula. The youngest Lilly boy managed to be the first to break a bone.
One red Christmas stocking-esque cast later and we were on our way. The take away?
• I should have heeded the wisdom of E. Stewart Jones who once said to never allow kids to go to trampoline parks or in bouncy houses.
• Broken bones don’t always reveal themselves with swelling, acute pain or discoloring.
• We’re so lucky to have quality health insurance and medical practices that are open on Sundays.
• While I may never receive a special lamp, I did see the light in this case and do the right thing. Just like Quinn’s fibula, I’m getting better.
Back in the day when I owned a restaurant, we had a collection of draft beverages of which I was pretty proud. We worked with local brewers and brought in small production brews that our guests really enjoyed. One of my favorite breweries, S & S Farm Brewery in Nassau, consistently produces some great beer and I always enjoyed working directly with family members when I needed a delivery.
I’ve heard that they throw a good party and for a long time now, I’ve wanted to get out to the farm to check out one of their events. Friday night, I finally got it together and wrangled two of my three sons into the car and headed east at about 5:45, having been warned that it gets crowded. Not an exaggeration, we would come to learn.
The ride out was stunning. I have a lot of really great memories that involve driving Route 20, but I’d not driven on Jefferson Hill Road before and it was so very pretty. The foliage and the old homes definitely had me considering if city life was as superior as I always think it is…
Upon arrival we were directed towards a parking area which was a short walk from the tasting room, tables, band and food. I had been warned that these Friday night things are popular, but I was stunned by the size of the crowd. There were probably 500 people there! Everyone we talked to was super nice and we got to spend some time chatting with a few folks as we waited in line to place our Burger21 order. Of course, being a practical person, I had thrown $20 to my kids and suggested they get soup or hot dogs from the second food truck since there wasn’t a line for the more simple fare being sold, while I grabbed a beer inside. With all of us placated, we committed to the approximately 40 minute wait for our excellent burgers and baskets of fries.
The food, my Brown Chicken Brown Ale and the setting were perfect. It’s been a particularly beautiful October and last night’s star filled sky was exceptional. I can’t imagine there was a better place to spend a couple of hours last night than exactly where I was. Let’s go again!
You quickly pull on clothes, pausing to brush teeth, and grab your camera and dog and get outside. You make your way down the stone steps to the dock and the water and, if you’re lucky, your Labrador actually obeys when you ask him to please not jump into the pond, thus allowing you to avoid having to deal with a wet dog first thing in the morning. The birds chirp and the fish in the pond jump and the sky is lit up like a popsicle and you know it’s going to be a good day.
The boys’ Crib
When the most intense colors of the sunrise fade (so quickly!), you take a little walk before wandering back to the house which is home for the week, taking in the fact that your youngest is now old enough to sleep in the separate cabin without the
annoyance presence of any grown ups. You smile when you note that the “big” boys slept in their cabin sans adults but avec, it seems, every single light on.
Then, it’s to the screened-in porch, with a scarf to keep the crisp morning air at bay, to watch and listen to the birds enjoy their breakfast. Breakfast…time to make pancakes. Hello, Tuesday.
Took a quick drive over to North Adams yesterday to see the Nick Cave exhibit. I mean, I had to – too many of my friends have posted pictures of the installation and I needed to see it in person. We did a loop – taking the Petersburg Pass on our way east and coming through Stephentown on the trip home. It was a nice few hours with my oldest son, the only one of the three willing to indulge my interest.
Liam and I spent a couple of hours checking out the art and enjoying lunch in the museum cafe. As we walked to the car, the most random thing happened when I encountered a German family in the parking lot. Remarkably, I had run into this same family last week in Provincetown. What do you think the odds of that happening might be? I smile thinking it’s my uncle pulling some strings to remind me that he’s still around. The world can be a beautiful place sometimes if you keep your eyes open.
Just back from a quick trip to the Cape and feeling a bit overwhelmed by the speed of life. It was a three-day trip and we packed in a lot of time outdoors, a couple of beaches and bike rides and a few margaritas. There were friends in Provincetown to drink with and the weather was just what I needed – 2 days of sunshine followed by a day of on and off showers mixed with sunshine. There was a tremendous moonrise and hours spent working on a 1000 piece puzzle that I’m still obsessing over from more than 250 miles away. It was delightful.
I’ve been doing this Cape Cod thing for 20 years now and it never gets old. There’s always a new beach or restaurant or shop to visit and a different house to make home. Despite all the new spots to explore, there are traditions to be honored, favorite running routes and swimming spots, dinner joints and ice cream flavors. It’s a wonderful place and, even when things don’t go perfectly, I’m always appreciative of the time spent in this special place.
On this trip, though, I was struck by a thought I couldn’t shake – it seems that I have as many memories of time spent on the Cape as there are grains of sand on the beach. When I revisit places, eat particular foods, smell distinct aromas, hear certain sounds, I feel as if I’m sometimes doing those things with company. Over the years, in addition to my own family, I’ve spent Cape time with dozens of friends and when I see or taste or smell or hear something that reminds me of a previous, similar experience it’s almost like those folks are once again joining me. I hear their voices and laughter over the roar of the ocean and see their smiles through early morning fog and feel so incredibly fortunate to have the memories of so many times spent with people I love, in a place I love. I simply can’t wait to get back there next month with my guys!
Never in my life have I ever used the word “rejoice,” other than as a Christmas carol or hymn lyric. It hasn’t been in my vocabulary. Yet, when I stepped into the shower yesterday and the water temperature was ideal, when my skin, which had been completely drenched in sweat during a 75 minute hot yoga class then cooled to a chilly dry in the fresh air, practically sighed in bliss, it was the first word that flew to my lips: rejoice.
I started thinking of all things that have recently created a response in me that can only be expressed with that word, rejoice, and realized again what a wonderful life I have. Here are a few of the experiences and impressions that have moved me just this June.
- The rain that fell during Sunday’s run. It was the perfect density, starting as a haphazard spit growing to a steady, light drizzle. Exactly what I needed to propel me forward.
- Two moments at my son’s commencement. The first when my youngest son expressed that he identified with the tall graduate who walked on to the stage to accept his history award. “There’s me,” he said. Goal set. The second, when the young woman, whose situation I know nothing of other than she typically doesn’t seem to walk, walked across the stage with support at each elbow, to receive her diploma. Her accomplishment earned the day’s loudest applause. Humanity affirming.
- The smell of fresh strawberries, basil and tomatoes.
- Watching the photos from my phone load into my iTunes like a slideshow of my life and being blown away by all the smiling faces, scenery and memories.
- Listening to the birds chirp their appreciation for being fed.
Maybe I’m simple for finding so much joy in such seemingly trivial places. That’s ok. I like feeling simply happy.