Sometimes, a diner is the right thing. My diner is Gus’s on 185th. Usually for breakfast. Occasionally lunch. Never dinner–they don’t serve alcohol so what’s the point. But it’s a good place. Street hardened waitresses on the floor and a couple of old timers in the kitchen slinging food. I pay with cash and overtip and they give me perfect service. Which is take my order, bring my food and leave me alone to read. I usually take the paper on the iPad, but occasionally a book. Like I said–a good diner.
All the ice sculptures at the winter festival made me think of a better use for ice than carving it up into shapes. Mainly, colding down some beer and maybe a cube or two in a glass of whiskey.
So after checking out the sculptures I ponied up for a couple of pints and sidecars of Jameson. Felt right on a sunny day. Slightly less abnormal.
A smattering of decent meals and drinks over the past week or so. Nothing too spectacular, but good to be out a time or two and to make some good things at home.
We should be within sight of better weather if history is a guide, although at least the next couple of weeks are predicted to be evil. More snow and cold and ice and grey skies. But if we can get back outside soon. Maybe a cigar and scotch on the patio after dinner once in a while. That would be grand.
Until then, we keep on keeping on.
The Martini Tales 