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?”
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?”
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.
Kanoyama: 175 2nd Avenue New York, NY 10003
Momofuku Milk Bar: 251 E 13th St # A New York, NY 10003
After a celebratory St Patty’s Day I was really looking forward to a relaxing Sunday. I went to the gym to burn off yesterday’s alcohol and pizza, but I don’t know how productive it was since I spent the majority of the expedition texting (what? I was on the bike!), and then I showered and settled in to start Book #2 of the Hunger Games. I scheduled dinner with 2 friends for later so I wouldn’t get antsy in my apartment.
After reading only G-d knows (I know too) how many pages I realize I have to get up to go the lady’s room, because I haven’t moved in quite a long time. I decide to take a brief reprieve and check my phone, and see that my dinner plans friend has called. Slight panic creeps inside me: She’s cxling! She’s changed the place to something really unhealthy! No, I didn’t answer in time and she went for linner. Plans foiled!
Nope, she’s gone for a walk with our other friend and wants to know if I want to join them.
“No, but if you sit outside somewhere I’ll meet you.” (I didn’t want to give up on Hunger Games quite yet).
“I think we might sit at BBar.”
“K, let me know!”
Legitimatley 2 minutes later I receive a text, “we’re outside BBar.”
I realize I’ve been sitting inside like a cavewoman and need to get myself together.
“Are you guys wearing leggings, because I am?”…a minute later “Nevermind, I’m not changing.”
I throw on lipgloss and sunglasses, debate about wearing a scarf (veto it), and head out.
As soon as I get there…
“I love your lipgloss!”
I see they’re wearing spring attire on their feet, while I’m sporting my new sneakers (girlyfoodie + Justin Bieber = same closet). Win some you lose some.
“You have to go inside to get a drink.”
…decisions, decisions. Get the drink before I get settled, or hear stories and then get a drink? I don’t know! I don’t know!
“You do not want to know what we’ve eaten already today…”
I guess I’ll wait to get the drink.
“I’ve had the worst day!”
“She’s had the worst day!”
(sometimes they mimic each other)
They went to support their friend who ran the half marathon, and on the train ride home a runner puked on my friend.
“She puked on me”
“She got puked on!”
“The lady said it was spit up, but I got thrown up on.”
“She had the worst day!”
Bartender lady was sort of a biotch. She was wearing a beanie, and I immediately wasn’t her biggest fan (she wasn’t mine either). She took forever to pour me my beer (Listen lady, I am having serious FOMO, and I didn’t bring my phone to distract me. HAND ME MY DRINK so I can go back outside and socialize!).
When I return:
“I want guacamole.”
“We’re eating dinner soon.”
“Should we get guacamole?”
“Well, with the kind of day we’re already havin…”
“I want to have room for dinner.”
“Where should we go for dinner?”
“I still want guacamole.”
Dinner plans are decided on. We shall go to Kanoyama. Sushi, a few blocks away.
“Should we get the sushi for 3?”
“Do you want sushi pieces?”
“It’s like sashimi with rice underneath.”
“Should we do it?”
“I want a seaweed salad”
Waitress comes over.
“We’ll have the sushi for 3 please”
“It really is such a great deal. We’ll definitely be happy with it.”
Turns out we were really happy with it: wide assortment and TONS of sushi. It’s hard to feel fat and weighed down from sushi. Although I always say it just takes that one last piece to put you over the edge. We ended up leaving 3 pieces behind on the oversized plate. Probably so later we could say we didn’t eat the whole thing.
“I got my palm read on a date, and the fortune teller said I’m going to have a baby…soon. And it was really awkward, because it was our first date.”
“I don’t want to get pregnant.”
“I’m going to get so fat.”
“I don’t think you will.”
“My face will be huge.”
“I’m going to have a c-secton”
I should point out that there is a couple sitting 6 inches away from us not even speaking to one another, and just listening to our conversation. GET YOUR OWN CONVERSATION AND STOP JUDGING US. What kind of couple are you that just sit there and hold hands over your miso soup? I’m realizing it’s a pattern that my neighboring patrons always seem to be listening to my conversation. Do I have weird conversations? Am I just loud (yes, I’m definitely loud)? Am I paranoid? Or am I just THAT interesting?
“Where is our check?”
“Is she ignoring us?”
“I’m getting antsy.”
“We’re still going to Momofuku Milk Bar right?”
“There’s a line. I’m cold, I’m going home.” (man down, she leaves but turns around twice to see if we’re still on line…we are)
I have never been to Momofuku Milk Bar before, I’m not goin’ anywhere.
“What do I order here?”
“Everything is amazing.”
I end up ordering the peanutbutter cookie, and shove it in my sweatshirt pocket. I stroll home and do back to back conversation with my dad, and then my mom.
As I’m heading into the elevator, my impatience gets the best of me, and I start chomping on my cookie. It was SO delicious! Unfortunately I was holding in my delight so my mom wouldn’t ask me why I was making such weird noises.
My mom pauses for a second, “What are you eating?”
Kanoyama (seaweed salad)
That is a lot of sesame seeds. My friend wanted a seaweed salad with her sushi combo. She said it had “a lot of different types of seaweed in it.”
Kanoyama (miso soup).
Sushi for 3 comes with a choice of soup or salad. I opted for soup, and it was a great start to the meal.
Kanoyama [Click the photo above to go to Kanoyama’s website]
You can see my friend’s claws going at the sushi as I try to take a picture of it. I attacked piece after piece.
Momofuku Milk Bar [Click the photo above to go to Momofuku’s website]
I know they look like regular cookies, but they are definitely not. My friend got the cornflake marshmallow chocolate chip and the blueberries and cream cookie. I opted for simple peanut butter. If it ain’t broke don’t fix it. It was so gooey. I hesitated in turning on the television, because I didn’t want to stop eating my snack.
200 5TH Avenue, New York, NY 10010
I know most people’s idea of Sunday Funday is getting drunk and watching sports at a bar, but my idea of a Sunday Funday is way different. My male bff is a wonderful chef, and I like to go for food adventures with him on Sundays especially when it’s nice out (good strolling weather). It’s literally the perfect Sunday: I get exercise (walking burns fat ppl), I get to be involved with food without spending any money, and I get to pretend he’s my boyfriend (he does not like the lady variety), while we walk arm in arm throughout the city. It’s pretty much a win win for me. Did I mention it was also the Oscars? SUNDAY FUNDAY
He decided his Sunday meal was going to be veal scallopine (sure whatever makes your meat loaf), so off we went to the Whole Foods in Chelsea. Unfortunately they had no veal medallions for my Sunday lover, and we needed to explore other options…
Having never been to Eataly I immediately suggested it for this veal medallion excursion. Eataly is not exactly for the el cheapo weapos, and my friend..well hes pretty effing cheap so I was SHOCKED when he agreed to purchase his meat there.
SCORE! I could explore Eataly without eating anything, and I could get a legitimate tour from my fake boyfriend. Apparently I was not the only one who thought Eataly would be a great place to go for a Sunday, because it was PACKED. We blew past the gelato line, hurried through the bakery section, scurried past the fish and caviar section, but no dice with the homemade pasta section. I ooh’d. I ah’d. Hinting in the worst possible ways that maybe we should ditch the veal and go for some good old fashioned pasta. “HAVE YOU EVER MADE PASTA BEFORE? ARE YOU GOING TO GET SOME? IT LOOKS GREAT..” I screamed as he dragged me to the meat counter (can’t blame a gal for trying).
The people behind the counter were super helpful and friendly, the customers not so much. In an approximate two minute span 3 snippy male patrons screamed “I WAS HERE FIRST,” while I got pummeled by a shopping basket. “Excuse me!” they yelled. YEAH EXCUSE YOU! I immediately wanted to be returned to my homeland, the pasta section. I then got sidetracked as I saw a pizza station in the back “have you ever made pizza before?” I asked. I was like an eight year old with attention deficit disorder learning fractions for the first time.
To my pal’s delight, they not only pounded the veal for him, they also charged him for veal liver instead of veal medallions (“IT’S HALF THE PRICE” he screamed. I thought he was going to have a heart attack. Relax it’s not like they gave us a free cheese platter. Now THAT’S something to shout from the rooftops)
Now that we had what we came for it was time to pay. NOT SO FAST. I’M NOT DONE HERE. Off we went to the cheese section. “ooooh” I screamed as I saw stacked blocks of cheese the size of fire logs. I went to touch it to make sure it wasn’t a mirage, and it definitely was not, because grease was suddenly smeared all over my hand. EW GROSS. I look up to see a sign that says, “Display. Please Do Not Touch” TOO LATE.
We then checked out the produce section. He was really having trouble with what mushrooms to cook with this veal. GET THEM ALL. GET THEM ALL. He browsed, but then decided he’d check out Chelsea Market without me to get the rest of his supplies. It was perfect: I went home and watched the Live Red Carpet special, while my friend slaved away in the kitchen. Like I said..SUNDAY FUNDAY!
I stole these pictures, because I was too overwhelmed to even think about taking pictures for this post. Please do not judge me.