An email I received from the only person I've ever done a cafeteria food quick fire challenge with (has been edited for content):
Dear Virginia,
My weekend really did deserve a worthy write-up. I hope you enjoy!
When Aeneas left the Trojan War, he was headed back to Greece. It took him many years and many events before he finely hit land, and when he did, it was Italy. That kind of sums up my experience this past weekend. The joy and the sorrow of simultaneously reaching your goal and realizing there is something terribly wrong.
On Saturday morning, I took the 7:30am Bolt Bus to New York. As always the bus was comfortable, the internet worked, I accomplished many important tasks, and most importantly, it was on time. I had planned to arrive at 11:45am to beat the weekend rush to Shake Shack. Like Aeneas, I had been here and vowed to return. Last time that I went, Boyle and I saw a wait for an hour and a half and we were quickly turned off. This time, as I pulled into the city under cloudy skies, I was kind of hoping for rain to deter the crowds. I got off the bus at 33rd and 7th and high-tailed it to Madison Square Park where the modern steel "shack" resides among the auburn oaks of fall.
About a block from the park, it started to pour. Just as planned, I saw a herd of mothers and fathers with Bugaboo strollers fleeing the park. As I walked to the shack, I had no line. I quickly ordered the Shack Stack, fries, and Black and White Milkshake, as a part of three fumbled on the order they were giving to the impatient New York waitress to my right. My waitress looked relieved that I knew what I wanted. I then paid the somewhat heft $16.75 and was given a fancy pager that "works anywhere in the park." I am sure they could have used a more low-tech system to reduce the cost of the product.
When my food was ready, I lost all thoughts of coin. I could smell the grease at the pick-up window as the waitress slid a single bag across the counter top and said without smiling, "Enjoy." My thoughts did not even turn to food, but rather seating. The Shake Shack has taken a small part of the park and turned it into seating for the restaurant, but there are no umbrellas under which to sit. This became the flaw in my plan to receive a quick burger...where to eat it. After a few seconds, I finally decided to plop down on one of the soaked chairs and prop my umbrella over my shoulder. The plan was to keep the food and the company computer (neatly placed between my legs) dry through the meal.
As I peered into the bag my first reaction was confusion. I had ordered the Shack Stack that is a "mushroom burger" on top a beef burger. It looked like I had received a crab cake on top of a mushroom burger. In fact, the meat at Shake Shack is not finely ground and its gruff texture and brown coloring made the bottom burger look a little mushroomy. The top contraption was, in fact, the mushroom burger. It is slices of portabella mixed with Gruyere then breaded and deep-fried.
The first bite was heavenly as the cheese oozes from the mushroom burger and picks up a little beef grease on it way to your mouth. Despite containing two types of grease, the bun manages to hold-up through the entire meal. It even manages to hold a little lettuce and tomato that add nothing to the flavor. The burger supposedly contains Shack Sauce, but I don't think I tasted it until the end. The fries are crinkle cut and crispy. They are a worthy companion to an innovative burger and will assist in picking up the remnants of the mushroom burger that fall to your simple red and white checkered container.
The shake was heavenly. It was thick, but not frozen. The shake could be pulled through the straw, but if you intend to eat your burger quickly (as might be unavoidable); I highly recommend another drink with your meal. The shake is really too thick to satisfy any immediate needs. By this point, I stopped thinking about the computer and would gladly explain any fried motherboard. As I completed my meal, I threw the bag over my shoulder and took a wet ass out of the park down Broadway to my next stop.
Momofuku Bakery is easy to miss. The whole Momofuku chain has a little bit of the modern look to it (read: communist). It is plain and simple. The bakery and milk bar has a few tables, a simple counter and a small glass through which you can view the products. I went there knowing little about the joint except that it has a hippie feel to it and that the cookies have interesting ingredients (like corn flakes). As I waited in line, I felt I might be in the most inefficient location in the city. Unlike the hurried push of the Shake Shack, the Momofuku baker seemed unconcerned with time or turnover. He was slow and chatty. Not an annoying chatty about useless matters. He just seemed to want to walk each customer through their complete options.
As I made my way up to the counter, I ordered half a dozen cookies, which were $10. His first question to me was, "What kind?" I really just wanted a mix, but I was forced to pick each type of cookie. He then suggested that the "day old" cookies were really a better deal, as they were only $.85 a cookie and he noted, "If I want to spend $10, he could just give me more of the day old stuff." So I took him up on it and got 10 cookies for less than the half dozen. I was done with my order, had purchased the items and then he said, "Wanna try some custard?"
I thought it was an odd question given that our business was done and there was a line of five people behind me, but decided that was his problem. We reviewed the flavors including cereal milk and raspberry, and decided on the savory "Stuffing." It actually tasted like stuffing. It had a hint of poultry fat, a little taste of celery, and a touch of onion. I have never had anything like and I think it is possible I never will again.
I hopped a cab from the bakery headed for my cousin Sean's place in the financial district. He lives in a 50s style financial building that has been remodeled for "luxury living." If you thought that "luxury living" was an ambiguous term in the DC area, it is even worse in New York. I think it means that it is nice. We met at his place and hung out for a little before heading out to find a bar to watch the first leg of the now infamous Ireland-France match. We sauntered into a place along the famed Stone St., where the traders by day become drinkers by night, and made our way to Beckett's. My cousin called ahead to see if the game was playing and it was for $20 a head. However, The Dubliner had the game on free, but it was in French.
Compromising on the kind of moral judgments I might have made earlier in life, French was preferable to giving up any of my drinking money. The game was great and the Guinness was stout. Sean's friend Brian and his wife Ally joined us. We had a few and then went back to Sean's place so that Brian and Ally could get ready for the real reason we were all in town, the engagement party. While they primped, I took Sean's dog Charlie to the liquor store and bought a bottle of Jamison. We finished half while Sean's fiancée came in and also got ready. I wore my clothes up, which left plenty of time for drinking and football watching while everyone else got ready. As the time approached, I realized that we really did make a dent in the bottle and that we all might be drunk, which is a great way to start a party.
We went downstairs to grab cabs and put the guests of honor in the first cab we saw. It took us a while to find another cab, so I finally negotiated with a Town car for a flat fee of $20 to the restaurant. It was a nice ride. We arrived at Kellari Taverna right on time. It is an upscale Greek place that has a beautiful exposed modern beams and carries itself as truly Mediterranean, no just Greek. On the bar upon arrival were a wooden block with two cheeses and a variety of olives, along with a whiskey. The later made the former too salty and I switched to wine. We were led from the bar to a causal area with a few tables and a curtain to close off the family from the rest of the crowd. After all, the last thing you want is a rowdy Irish family in a Greek restaurant.
The food was "light," but served often. As the olives and more cheese joined us in our private setting, the waiters walked around with Spanikopita, Lamb and Chicken Skewers, filet mignon on toast, and these delightful fried-zucchini "burgers." The wine paired nicely. They offered a few Italian varieties including a robust Zinfandel. Nothing goes better with rich food than truly rich wine that could flavor every bite on its own. The meal finished with a sublime chocolate mousse cake that tricked the mind with firm but very light icing that was really just lightly flavored whipped cream. The party continued with my whole family around until 1:30am. Then it is safe to say, we were all done.
[ I have edited this part for length and content. In sum, there is a brief, yet impassioned encounter with NY's finest, them, and a dishonest cabbie. But no one goes to jail.]
I glanced at the clock to see it was 4am. I had a 7:30am bus. I woke at 6am very hungover and lord knows what else and just decided to leave. I actually caught a 7am bus with no one on it and slept. Just 24 hours after I left Washington, I managed to have one of the best burger contraptions ever, great cookies and pints, a classy engagement party, and an encounter with NYPD. While I may have been a weary traveler by my arrival in Alexandria on Sunday morning, I already knew that Aeneas' quote held true, "In the future, it will be pleasing to remember these things."
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