You shouldn’t have to work on your birthday. It’s the one holiday you carry around with you organically. I stopped acknowledging most other holidays years ago, but I’m always down to celebrate my birth with a meal.
But alas, I did work on my birthday, and now I’m rushing to the train, through an idiot’s obstacle course, into and out of the subway, fast-walking the Brooklyn blocks, carrying the stress of the work day into an early reservation at Battersby.
My girl is springing for the tasting menu, so life is good, but we have zero chance of decompressing by this unfortunate time-slot. Even after a few tasty cocktails.
“Is it me or are there three other chites in this vicinity?”
“They’re everywhere. It’s embarrassing.”
“We’re a dime a dozen,” I say.
“Actually, no. One is a chi-chi.”
Enter the sunchoke amuse-bouche, in a small shot glass, brief and delicious, with hints of hazelnut, followed by crispy kale salad with peanuts and brussels sprouts. That crispy kale was on my mind for weeks after this meal.
“This fluke dish,” I say, “is so good, but it’s gonna be hard for me to remember what was so good about it.”
“I think it’s so clean tasting.”
“Yeah, but is that really a thing?”
I think I remember an asparagus course, cooked two ways, maybe, some beautiful beets? I don’t know, I’m forgetting. I can’t even tell what’s in these pictures. It was four weeks ago. A lot of water under the bridge. I should write these reviews earlier. I’m so bad at this.
I do remember wishing for the pressed foie sweetbread terrine I’d seen on the menu. Not that there was anything wrong with the chicken and cauliflower dish, It just didn’t seem like a closer. Still, put it in front of me right now and it’s gone in sixty seconds.
And honestly, what is this egg looking thing on the left? I gotta start writing shit down. It was ice-cream, yes? I probably liked it. I remember loving all the desserts. Let me ask the girlfriend. She doesn’t remember either. Good food is wasted on us.
I shall return, Battersby, and I’ll be making my own choices. On a weekend. In a better mood. And with a pen.
Also, next year I’m taking off on my birthday.