Ainsworth [Click the photo above to go to Ainsworth’s website]
122 West 26th Street (between 6th and 7th Avenue) New York, NY 10001
Sunday football is back! I decided to be proactive and make at reservations in advance at Ainsworth to watch the Jets game (I’m a Giants fan, but in reality I don’t watch football by myself…ever) at 1pm.
I e-mailed them the Monday before to secure reservations. They request a credit card on file in order to secure the reservation, and there’s a dress code. Oh, and for a party of 6-8, patrons have to spend a minimum of $250. Unless there are 10 or more which means you must spent $500. What kind of place is this!
And, they’ll charge the credit card on file if you don’t show up to your reservation…this place better be amazing. It…was not.
I arrive first, because why wouldn’t I arrive first, and they seat me right by the door.
“Excuse me would be able to sit farther in?”
“I’m sorry people are seated in according to how quickly we receive your reservation.” (I didn’t sneak out of temple to make this reservation or anything. It’s fine). I sit alone on my phone trying to figure out the new upgrades to my IPhone. Youtube is gone, what else?
Two of my friends arrive after me with an elaborate story about how they planned on wearing sweat pants to defy the dress code, and then surprise the bouncer with an outfit underneath (they didn’t do any of this, but they really thought about it).
My friend is telling me how she worked out and started this new diet for a wedding she has coming up, and I have to interrupt her to tell her she has something in her teeth, and I cannot stop staring at it.
“It must be from the bagel. Why didn’t you tell me?” she says to our other friend.
“I didn’t see it. It’s black right?” She saw it.
“I thought you said you were on a diet.”
“I was up since 8!” Ok ok.
We each order a beer (they’re out of Blue Moons), and my friend orders some fancy pants Raspberry beer which comes in a champagne flute, and looks just like Manischewitz wine. It tastes sort of like juice, but I don’t know, I don’t mind it.
We decide we want tuna tacos to split, and I guess I’ll be good and get a salad. Our other two friends arrive.
“Why didn’t you guys get pitchers?”
Everybody caaaalm down. We order a pitcher.
One of my friend is convinced she’s sea sick from a booze cruise she took the night before, doesn’t even touch her beer, and orders a coffee…
I get up to use the restroom. The beer has already gotten to me, and apparently the door to the unisex bathroom does not lock, and 3 people open the door on me. I walk out and decide I’m not telling anyone what happened, because there’s nothing more embarrassing than someone walking in on you screaming, “No don’t! Someone’s in here!”
Luckily my friends don’t care. “You missed it! Kris Humphries just walked in with his hood on!”
I seem to like to go to the same place C List celebrities like to hang out. First Kim D and Teresa, now Kris Humphries (and weirdly enough I’ve seen him a few times watching football on Sunday). He is sitting in VIP. I mean is that cool? I don’t really know. I don’t think so, but all my friends are like, “we gotta find a way in to VIP.”
No thanks! I’ll eat my salad (which sucked). Everyone orders a salad, but we still get a pitcher of beer and nachos, so who were we really fooling? No one.
As I crunch on my dressing-less salad, we all watch girls decked in heels, hair done, oversize bags…we’re “watching” football you freaks. Girls have full faces of make-up, and the restaurant/bar is now just a bar so it’s pitch black. No one can see your face anyway!
Our last friend arrives, and orders a caprese salad, and decides she’ll wait it out for her next dish. We do have to make this stupid minimum.
My friend decides she wants to seek out Kris Humphries, and I have to pee again so off we go. This time I go into the Ladie’s Room. Eff that unisex bathroom. I hate you. She then makes me walk around to the back where the VIP section is, and she is awkwardly standing there just staring. Now I feel weird.
“I don’t see him. Where do you want to go?”
“I don’t know where is he?”
I see someone waving furiously at me. Some guy I met in a Hampton sharehouse a few years ago, sitting on a couch in the VIP section. I wave back.
“Can we go?”
We sit back down, and try to figure out if we have reached the minimum amount we have to pay to sit in these seats.
“Did you see the Hump?”
“No, but we saw some guy I know from a sharehouse.”
“Was that the pale guy waving at you?”
“Yes.”
We have not reached our minimum yet, and the game is still going.
“It got so dark in here.”
“How much longer is this game?”
“Is it going to go into overtime?”
“Please no!”
We are $10 off from the minimum after already ordering mac n cheese for the table (huge portion, ok flavor) and we are about to just suck it up and pay for it when my friend screams, “I’ll have a bloody mary!”
“We might as well make the minimum.” She already had 3 bloody marys, and made me take a picture of it, because “it looked pretty good.”
We pay, and the game goes into overtime, and the bar is pitch black. I cannot bear to watch one more minute of the Jets. I’m out of here. Maybe i’ll see Kris again next week.
Ainsworth (bloody mary)
Everyone knows what beer looks like, so here is a different drink. The same person who ordered this also ordered one of their lemon specialty drinks. It was 1 in the afternoon. I don’t know where she thought she was.
Ainsworth (mac n cheese)
Everyone agreed that this was disappointing. It was a dish we ordered to make the minimum. It’s fine macaroni and cheese, but it’s not that great. The best part is the parmesan bread crumbs baked on top.
Ainsworth (tuna tartar tacos:red onions, scallions,red chili vinaigrette, guacamole)
They were actually pretty good!! Also for tacos, not that messy either. I was pleasantly surprised!
Ainsworth (nachos:tri-color corn tortillas, shredded jack and cheddar,black beans,pico de gallo, guacamole,sour cream)
I didn’t eat the nachos. I think they were ok. It’s just a pile of fat on top of carbs, so I’m sure this has to be decent bar food. I did like the guacamole that came on the tuna tacos, so at least I know that was good.
Ainsworth (Tomato Mozzarella Caprese: buffalo mozzarella, basil oil, red and yellowtomatoes, balsamic reduction)
I asked my friend how it was, and she crinkled her noise and said, “eh.” In other words don’t get it.
Ainsworth (truffle Mushroom Stuffed Burger: bacon,swiss cheese,truffle mayo)
I stole some of the truffle fries. It was decent, but my friend did not finish it, so maybe she deemed it not worth the calories or maybe she wasn’t hungry. I don’t know, but probably not a great sign.
Ainsworth (Ainsworth Chopped Salad:romaine lettuce,grape tomatoes,corn, hearts of palm, feta cheese, cucumbers, carrots, asparagus,red onions,white balsamic vinaigrette, add chicken $3, shrimp $5)
I added the chicken, and removed the feta. They put all the contents on top of the salad so it looked like it was going to taste great, and then the rest of the bowl was filled with lettuce. Crap salad.
Ainsworth (Spinach Salad: baby spinach, red peppers, red onions, mushrooms,artichoke hearts,goat cheese,apple cider vinaigrette, add chicken $3)
My friend was craving goat cheese so she immediately eyed this salad. It looks fine, but it’s not a healthy salad.
Ainsworth (caesar salad)
Ok caesar salad. You can see by the quality of the picture how dark it really does get in this restaurant/bar.
OYSTER FESTIVAL [Click the photo above to go to Oyster Festival’s official website]
Stone Street, Finanical District, New York, 10004
Fall seems to be the season of food festivals, so after the San Gannero festival, I decided let’s keep the ball rolling with the Oyster Festival. I went to the gym hoping it would negate the damage I’d do to myself later in the day (it didn’t) and texted my friend while on the bike, the standard question we text all our friends…
“How do I get there?” We know we can all look it up ourselves, but why not make someone else do it for us? I’m lazy, and I’m poor (and by poor, I mean my mom is going to strangle me when she sees the credit card bill) so I figured if I had to get down to Wall Street, I probably didn’t want to pay for a $15 cab or find out how to get there. My friend informs me the 4 or 5 will get me to Wall Street. I continue to text her while on the bike, which means I clearly worked my ass off at the gym.
My 21 year old hungover sister has decided to use me for my apartment once again, and sleeps soundly as I get myself ready for my day out. I tell her to get up so I can make my bed and she struggles to get up telling me she forgot where she was (oh to be young).
I manage to take the 6, transfer to the 5, and get to Wall Street, and felt like an absolute baller until I looked at my google maps and got completely lost trying to find this stupid Oyster Festival.
I keep walking left then right, and staring at my map as I watch the blue avatar of myself go to the left and right of where I’m supposed to be going. I don’t get it! I call my friend, and she tells me our other friend can see that on google maps she’s the closest so to come to her. Sure I say.
Forget this! I hail a cab tell him I’m supposed to go to Pearl Street, he legitimately drives me around the corner, and I’m magically in the center of Oyster Festival. Made it!
My friend calls me, “where are you??”
“Oh, I’m already at Oyster Festival, you can just meet me,” I say as if I’m the queen of Manhattan.
I never told them I took a cab so if you’re reading this, now you know. I’m a liar.
We walk in, and apparently this street is a wind tunnel and the tank and shorts I have on are just not cutting in.
My friend offers me her scarf or her cardigan.
“You can wrap the scarf around your head”
“I think I’ll just take the cardigan.”
We haven’t even started drinking yet.
We manage to stroll and get a look at all the stands, to see what we’re working with. I decide I have to try oysters, but end up ordering a lobster roll (two rolls for $10 and chips included). We begin our drinking. I start with a mimosa which was $8 for two sips of orange juice, and my 2 other friends are chugging sangria that might as well have been called rum.
My other friend runs to get a bloody mary, and ends up watching the ice melt, because it’s too strong for her to drink. Woops.
As we manage to walk through the mosh pit that is Oyster Festival I notice there are a lot more guys here than girls, and they’re actually good looking. My friend looks at me, “We need to come here for happy hour.”
We find a table, I upgrade to sangria, and then next thing I know I ate everything.
Pizza special: two slices and a beer for $10. (I didn’t get this, but I had a bite)
$1 Pizza Special: somewhere else. The pizza is tiny, and its $3 if you want a meat slice.
I decide it’s time for me to learn to like oysters: FAIL. I eat 6 slimy suckers for $8, and want to cry the whole time I’m eating it. They were east coast and briny, and I don’t know why people choose to eat these things.
We all somehow manage to go through 3 servings of Cajun fries: always leaving one fry left in each basket, because no one wants to eat “the last one.”
We end up finding a somewhat clean porta potty and pretend it’s our private bathroom. I end up talking to some random guy who is “from the desert” (I’m quoting here) while waiting on line, and he tells me how he’s not used to oysters, because he’s never lived by the sea. I don’t know I have to pee. He was sort of cute, but he sounded like he was giving me a presentation and I wasn’t biting.
Next thing I know I’m exhausted, pretty drunk, and full. All I want to do is shadily dip, take a $20 cab home nap, and maybe order Chinese food. But noooo my friend corners me into sharing a cab with them so we can go to a sex toy party. They’re not as cool as they sound fyi.
I end up going to this party, and realize I can’t find my friend who dragged me here. I end up finding her face down on her bed, fully dressed, make-up on, and heels hanging off her bed.
Maybe I am just like my 21 year old sister.
Oyster Festival
I stole this picture, but just so you can see how crowded it gets. It really is just one street filled with people everywhere!
Oyster Festival (beer and bloody mary)
I took the beer picture by accident, as you can tell from the quality of the picture. But don’t go to this if you’re not going to drink! It’s crowded. It’s loud. It’s really fun!
Oyster Festival (lobster roll)
It was a really good lobster roll! Not too mayo-y. I haven’t had one in a while, and I didn’t start drinking yet when I ate this, so I know it was good!
Oyster Festival (cajun fries)
Looks like we ate everything except the oysters. We ordered this THREE times. The guy saw us coming, and screamed “they’ll be ready in 10!” Considering they had to make them in bulk they were pretty good fries! Crispy and not overcooked or soggy.
Oyster Festial (pizza: two slices and a beer for $10)
It was decent pizza. It’s just a good alternative to seafood, if you don’t eat shell fish. It also is never a bad idea to eat pizza when you’re drinking.
Oyster Festival (East Coast Oysters)
I hate them. I’m sorry. I thought I could like them a little bit, but I can’t stand East Coast oysters. I can stomach West Coast. EEK
Desnuda
122 East 7th Street (b/t 1st and Avenue A) New York, NY 10009
http://www.desnudany.com/main.php
Since starting this Dukan Diet I have literally been shoveling in all forms of steak, turkey and chicken, and even sashimi and any baked fish I can get my hands on (I mean I had been trying the Skinny Bitch (vegetarian) diet for a while so this was a whole new world for me).
With that being said, I’m sort of sick of all this food, so I was dying to come up with a new way to continue my diet (after two weeks of doing this and I had already cheated…I mean I have a food blog what did you expect?) so my mind wandered to oysters.
I don’t die for them like some people, but I thought this was a good opportunity to expand my palate, so I found Desnuda, a Cevicheria (and oyster bar) and wine bar…an anorexic alcoholic’s dream. Yay!!
I convinced my lush of a cousin to join me (she had oysters the night before, but I think the wine bar swayed her), and I was on my way.
Desnuda is on a block in the East Village, which has a million and one amazing restaurants, so as I was aimlessly searching for the restaurant (no sense of direction AT ALL) I walked by three restaurants I was interested in for my next adventure (still haven’t been to Pylos or Luke’s Lobster) before I made it to Desnuda to be greeted by my cousin already sipping a glass of wine at the bar.
“Is there seating in the back?”
“I think it’s just the bar, “wine bar.””
“Oh, I get it.”
I order the same glass of rose as my cousin (I trust her) and scan what’s happening around me. There is a date happening next to my cousin (which I will agree, it is a fab date spot), and two gay men and their lady friend sitting to my right.
The bartender plops down truffle popcorn in front of us, and I slide it closer to my cousin and I. I suddenly realize it might be for the whole bar.
“I’m sorry is this yours?”
One of the gay guys looks up and replies, “no, it’s yours. They give it to everyone once they order a drink.”
Oh, ok…
“They must like you better than me, because they didn’t give me popcorn when I sat down,” my cousin says.
While that’s nice of her to say, I’m pretty sure they were just waiting for the rest of her party to arrive. I don’t think they thought my cousin came to a wine bar to sit by herself and drink (that’d be so sad).
My cousin had already scanned the menu and decided she was very into two tuna ceviche options, and a lobster ceviche. I really had my heart set on oysters so we figured we’d split one ceviche, and go our own way on one dish.
“Which tuna do you want?”
“I can’t eat fruit on my diet, so whichever one doesn’t have fruit.” (I already had popcorn woops).
“They both don’t.”
“Let’s do the spicy one.”
Then the bartender/waiter/chef (he does it all!) tells us about the specials of the day. I can’t tell if he lists two specials or one, because I only caught the first sentence and the last sentence, but I was into it.
“Maybe we should get a special and a ceviche, and then see what happens next.”
Bye oysters.
“Excuse me, was that one special or two?” (we’re dumb)
“Two.”
“We’ll get the first one,” (which was hamachi).
I sadly was buzzed from the one glass, and my cousin was cruising to her second.
“I like to try new drinks,” my cousin says.
“What are you getting next?”
“Can you get white wine after you have red, or is it the other way around?”
“I have no clue.”
“I don’t want the waiter to think I’m dumb.”
“Who cares if he thinks you’re dumb, just order a drink.”
She gets the cava, while I just get a second round of the rose. What do I know??
I then watch the bartender/waiter whip out a weird gadget and place glass bobbles on the table that look like round light bulbs: smoke starts going everywhere, and we hear him instruct our neighbors, “wait a minute ½ for this, and then eat this one minute after…”
Sounds complicated, but I’m jealous. What are they eating?
Tea smoked oysters.
Our tuna ceviche comes first, but I was convinced it was the hamachi, because when I ordered I said “we’ll have the Hamachi and the tuna ceviche” so I had assumed it’d arrive in that order, which in retrospect makes absolutely no sense, but like I said I had one glass and was tipsy.
So good! and SO spicy!
Hamachi is prepared next, and is just so so pretty. I like the tuna better, but the Hamachi was yummy, but they put salt and pepper on top, and it was just way too salty.
My cousin is up to glass #3, while I’m treading lightly with #2. I decide it’s only right if we get a third dish, and the lobster ceviche is ordered, which was my favorite by far, probably because it was the least healthy according to my diet. It came with mango (oops), and it was mixed with coconut milk (douple oops).
“The guy next to me keeps bumping his elbow into me,” my cousin says.
“Do you want to move seats?”
“No, it’s ok. I think he has an accent. Maybe he’s Israeli.”
“If he’s bumping into you then he’s definitely Israeli,” and we start cracking up, we’re hysterical! (she married an Israeli, judge me if you will, but they’re pushy sometimes, but I’m ride or die for my homeland).
As we’re paying the bill, I realize I’m not even one step closer to liking oysters more, but I like ceviche more.
Desnuda (rose wine)
It’s a wine bar so I have to highlight the wine. Here it is. I know nothing, and I can’t give an ounce of an educated summary of the flavors, but I drank it, and it increased my BAC, so I’m into it.
Desnuda (truffle popcorn)
The beginning of the end of my diet. Some people are a little over truffle’d everything. Sometimes I agree, but not this time. I don’t know why I’ve never had this before! AMAZING, and worth just going for wine and the popcorn!
Desnuda (tuna ceviche with jalapenos and scallions)
This was SO spicy. I really liked it though, and I thought it was good quality tuna. It was the right cut, and had good flavor!
Desnuda (hamachi: with scallions and salt and pepper)
A little salty but I scraped the salt off and threw the scallion everywhere! You can see the jalapeno on the side, which was accidentally left over from the tuna. I’m messy.
Desnuda (lobster ceviche: coconut milk and mangos)
I couldn’t find the detailed description on the online menu, but trust me when I say I died for this. I love lobster in general, and I was obsessed with the mango/coconut milk combo.
David Burke Kitchen in the James Hotel [Click the photo above to go to David Burke Kitchen’s website]
23 Grand Street (between 6th and Thompson Avenue) New York, NY 10013
My sister and I felt like geniuses when we decided to take my mom to a trendy restaurant for her birthday for Restaurant Week (not like we were paying anyway, but it seemed like a good idea)With that said, I would like to officially hate hard on Restaurant Week or specifically Restaurant Week at David Burke Kitchen. I don’t know if this place always sucks or if it was just when we went, but this place has got to go.
It’s like the wait staff judges the patrons for getting a deal, so they even it out with crap service (how cranky do I sound?)
Anyway! Let’s begin!
My sister texted me that her and my mom had arrived 20 minutes prior to the reservation, so I took it as a cue that I had to rush downtown to meet them. As it turns out, I was there before them, because they decided to walk around the neighborhood.
I sat in a chair people watching and then judging the people I watched while I waited. I eventually see them coming towards me clicking their heels as they walked.
“Why’d you wear heels?” (my mom also pulled her back earlier this week, so you tell me if this is normal)
“We brought them with us, and put them on in the car.” (so you can sit with your feet under the table)
We are seated, and I can see my mom already eyeing the restaurant (we rarely sit at the table we’re seated at, because my mom always feels like we could have gotten a better table).
“Whats wrong?”
“I need a booth for my back.”
“It’s really that bad?”
“Yes.”
She looks at my sister, “can you run to the car and get me a towel?”
The bread basket gets placed in front us, and my sister looks at my mom like she is straight up out of her mind.
“I just put my heels on.”
“We’re in a hotel Mom. They have to have a pillow somewhere.”
As my mom waddles around the restaurant in search of a pillow, my sister and I order wine.
She comes back victorious with a pillow.
“We ordered wine.”
“Without me?” My mom hardly drinks to begin with.
You would think it would be easy enough to get the waiter back over to our table so my mom could order wine, and we could order dinner, no dice. I could have flashed the whole restaurant, and no one would have flinched.
I guess it gave us time to confirm our orders. I was “dieting” as I proceeded to pick at the bread basket (“where’s the butter?!”) so I went with a plain salad and the sea bass. My sister got the sea bass as well, but she ordered Burrata cheese as her app (girl is obsessed with queso). My mom’s tomato allergy inhibited her from committing to a dish….or a wine for that matter. Oh and P.S. since it’s restaurant week, all our meals come with a dessert…like I was skipping that!
The waiter returned, and it was tomato time.
I had looked up that the pretzel crab cake was a specialty of theirs so my mom had planned on ordering that, but it turns out there are tomatoes every which way in this dish.
“Even the pepper sauce?”
“Yes.”
“Can I just get this without any of the garnish?”
“Yes, but then it’s just crab cakes with pretzels.”
“That’s fine.”
“Is this a preference or an allergy?” (do you think she’d be this difficult just over a food preference, please, slip my mom some tomatoes and see what happens to her little face).
“ALLERGY” we all say.
We decide to give my mom her cards and gift, while we wait for our food. Our family believes in the art of the perfect card, so we don’t write any sentimental crap inside, we just search for the funniest perfect cards, and we each buy a minimum of 3 cards per person (we’re cute), so needless to say my mom had a lot of cards to open up, and she opened them all up before the apps arrived.
She finally gets to her gift, and my sister and I sit there waiting for my mom’s disappointment.
Pause….”what is it?”
“It’s a gift card so you can get a massage!”
“Do they have reflexology?”
(no)
But instead we go with, “they have hot stone massages!”
Appetizers….
My salad essentially sucked, and they didn’t even offer me ground pepper. My sister obviously had no problem with a hunk of cheese, and my mom really was just eating crab cakes with pretzel sticks on top…and she still hadn’t gotten her wine.
I realize I need to get my mom a candle so I run off to tell the hostess (because I obviously can’t find our waiter) before I forget. I also notice that the restaurant is filled with women, barely any men.
“Mom did you know the Kardashians stayed at the same hotel as us in London?”
“Where did we stay again?”
“Athenaeum” (yes, we did feel special!)
“Remember when you almost got run over by that cab driver?” We are all crying of laughter visualizing my mom running for her life as a cab driver chases her across the intersection (shopping bags in hand screaming at the top of her lungs).
“That cab driver was a meany.”
“He was mom.”
Main courses: my fish was the size of my thumb, and my mom’s meat was pretty effing tough. I tried cutting it with my knife and decided to screw it and just put the whole thing in my mouth.
As we’re eating we look around the restaurant at the pictures hanging on the walls. The pictures are of chefs with live animals.
My sister looks to her left and goes, “I don’t want to see a picture of a lamb before I eat lamb chops.”
I turn my head around and see a picture of a sweet looking cow otherwise known as steak.
“Yeah, what were they thinking?”
“I’m thirsty.”
Our water glasses haven’t been refilled once.
Dessert comes, and I’m petrified they forgot the candle. They didn’t! Thank G-d! Unfortunately the mint brownie my mom ordered pretty much sucks.
My strawberry shortcake parfait is the only redeeming quality of this whole meal, but a main ingredient is funfetti cake. I LOVE funfetti cake but it’s not worth $15 just sayin.
My sister ordered one of the only desserts not included as part of the restaurant week menu, and got the cheesecake (do you see a trend here with my sister?). It was actually a cheese cake tree of cake lollipops.
My sister took a bite of each lollipop, and if she didn’t like it she would just shove the half eaten pop back into the tree. She’s 21 years old by the way.
It was finally time to leave and we decide to finish up our night with a trip to the Jimmy rooftop. Time for pictures (after we have just eaten 3 courses)!
We asked some lady to take a picture of the three of us, and she was so great! You know when you feel guilty for asking a complete stranger to take multiple pictures of yourself? She was really into it, and did different angles and everything. As she hands the camera back to my mom, looks right at my mom’s outfit and goes “you have great boobs!”
“The view is great!” my mom replies. Happy Birthday Mom!
David Burke Kitchen (bread)
I’ll give it to them, they have good bread. It’s all downhill from here.
David Burke Kitchen (seasonal salad)
The cucumbers were gross, the salad was soggy, I was hating life.
David Burke Kitchen (pretzel crab cake: mustard glaze, boston beer foam, pepper marmalade)
To be fair, my mom had the dish altered, but it tasted like plain ol’ crab cakes to me, and those pretzel sticks reminded me of the pretzels I used to snack on at day camp (and pretend they were cigarettes obviously).
David Burke Kitchen (asparagus & buratta salad: watermelon, tomoato prisciutto)
Solid, but a bit mushy, and lets be real, we’ve all seen a prettier plate.
David Burke Kitchen (pork chop: cumin bacon, mango chutney, parsley onion rings)
This had potential to be great! It just wasn’t. The porkchop was just so so tough, and the bacon was good, but it was fatty not crispy.
David Burke Kitchen (black sea bass: baby shrimp, spinach, tomato, olive, yellow pepper)
It’s good, I’ll admitt that, but I’m pretty sure it was sitting for a while, because it wasn’t too hot when I got it. And, look how small that piece of fish is!
David Burke Kitchen (mint brownie sundae)
I can’t find the description on the website, but it was sorta dry and way too minty. DON’T GET IT.
David Burke Kitchen (strawberry shortcake parfait)
It’s delicious! I should have just ordered this.
David Burke Kitchen (the original cheesecake lollipop tree for two, passion fruit whipped cream)
It’s good, it’s balls of cheesecake!
Don’t know where to go for Restaurant Week? Me either! I searched for some recommendations, and now you can read them too. [Click the photo above to read Recommendations for New York Restaurant Week]
GirlyFoodie 