The downside of all of this Romantic transcendence was that my cell phone had been in my backpack, which was thoroughly soaked through from the top but very sensibly had a reinforced bottom, resulting in water pooling in said bottom, in which said cell phone ended up resting. It was completely non-responsive when I fished it out. I found myself suddenly seized by that calm which accompanies emergencies: do what needs to be done. Take out the battery and bury the phone in a twenty-pound bag of jasmine rice. Send an e-mail to my co-workers letting them know that I'm unreachable by phone. Likewise send an e-mail to my mother, also soliciting information for our family's wireless account so that I can go about getting a replacement. Change out of my soaked shorts and tank, into a sharp shirt, mini-skirt, heels and make-up because heavens to betsy, I am like a rogue CIA agent gone off the grid and shit is gonna get crazy around here.
Sleeping overnight in its rice bed restored the phone to the point of being able to turn on and show that its data was all intact, but it was otherwise nonfunctional and visibly damaged. I'd already made plans to go to the city on Sunday, though, and Monday was scheduled to be a day at the beach with friends (and the rest of that day ended up being pretty much killed), so I didn't end up getting my phone replaced until Tuesday.
Granted, I'm not in the thick of things with work right now, but goodness, I did not miss it at all.
I'm not too compulsive of a phone-checker (or, at least, I don't perceive myself as such), but it still felt so freeing not to even have the option. If I was bored, I couldn't use that as a mindless time-suck. There wasn't the slightest feeling of being on-call for work. And it was like a breath of childhood, particularly on Sunday, just the notion that when you were gone somewhere, you were gone. Austin doesn't exist for my generation in the society in which I live today. I was suddenly in an entirely different lifestyle, from which my leaving had been a gradual, unconscious thing.
Which isn't to say that I'm not happy to have a phone again. Even if I am wary because my plan had allowed for me to upgrade my handset and they no longer made the model that I'd been using, with my only options available to me being clearly down or up. And well, only one of those made sense. So, after years of digging in my heels: I now own an honest-to-goodness smartphone.
On the one hand, I do despise myself a little bit for selling out to the demands of a materialistic, interpersonally dysfunctional society. On the other hand, goodness me but is it shiny. I keep reaching over to play with it because it makes me feel like I'm in a science fiction movie. "Hold on a moment, just let me get out my handheld data control doomsday device and page down the beautifully lit color screen to bring up the information that you requested. And also tell you the current weather."
Still, much as I like it, a smartphone is a big step into the future for me, which made Facebook finally forcing all profiles into timeline format on the very same day just a little too much. I hate the Facebook timeline. I really do. I find it counter-intuitive and messy. I also hate the "places" feature because it makes me feel stalked, in addition to infuriating me by its conflation of hometown with place of birth, if the little icon's pacifier graphic is to be believed.
And then, continuing along the line of generational internet hijinks, there's the issue of how my grandfather forwarded me an e-mail encouraging me to watch a linked slideshow of various beautiful nature photos fading from black and white to color in order to show me what amazing gifts God has given us or something. Obviously, the theological aspect was a bit wasted on me, but I love me some beautiful nature photos as much as the next guy, even if my particular angle of appreciation differs from that expressed in the MS PowerPoint text on the photos in the beginning of the slideshow. Anyways, the pictures were nice, thought the last slide fades in a towering Jesus, in that semi-iconic style that brings to mind (for me, at least) the creepier aspects of mid-20th century America, superimposed over the last photo.
All well and good. The thing is, Flash has been acting up in my Firefox lately, so whenever it has a glitch, it flashes -- haha! -- images of the last things that have been viewed using Flash components. As a result, I keep getting random flashes of Jesus in the process of using the internet. Add onto that the fact that I've recently been reading summaries of various Asian horror movies about evil spirits lurking in pictures or the walls or videotapes, and it's honestly starting to creep me out a little in that holy shit Jesus is coming to steal my soul sort of way.
It seems to have gotten better today, largely thanks to my having been staring at the PDF menu of a Japanese restaurant back home quite a bit over the past two days. I really want to eat there. I really want to eat a lot of places. For over a week now, I've been experiencing enormously strong cravings for fried crap. Korean fried chicken, American fried chicken, fried calamari. Also, carbs. Fried chicken and waffles has sounded like the perfect meal for a number of days. I'm not really sure what's behind the fried food craving, as I always want fried food to some degree while also not eating much of it, just as a general lifestyle, but this has been markedly more severe than usual. I have, on conversely, actively been cutting down on carbs this summer, so that craving has a more easily identified source.
In any case, I certainly didn't lack for good food this past Sunday, when my life flashed before my eyes a few times in that "I just had an orgasm in my mouth" sort of way.
The day started off at Hotel Chantelle in the Lower East Side. I'd bought a deal for there some months ago and it was near expiring, so I used the opportunity to meet up with a former co-intern I hadn't seen in a couple years. With the deal providing for two entrees and six cocktails, we both got the saumon fume crepe, while she had some bloody marys and I had a mimosa and two South of Delanceys. (It isn't listed on the website, but you can find a picture of the brunch menu here.)
Brunch is a rooftop dining affair, and it was an absolutely delightful combination with the day's beautiful late summer weather. The food was delicious and satisfactorily filling (if not overly abundant), and the drinks were quite good as well, with my mimosa coming in a charming old fashioned-ish glass and the South of Delancey (Kettle One Citron, Sweet Tea vodka, peach schnapps and lime juice) being good and strong while still being smooth, not sugary and actually not fruity at all. The highlight, however, was the atmosphere, which was both classy and bustling. A live jazz group played for part of the time that we were there, providing great background without ever being overwhelming. And they really did play for a good long while, but it was only part of the time that was there because, in our great cascade of chatting, we ended up staying there for almost five hours. Throughout the entire time, the staff was always attentive but never bothersome, and at no point did we feel rushed. Definitely a place that I would recommend for a small group of friend.
(Coincidentally enough, the day after using up my purchased deal, they released a new offer for the same deal. If you're in town and enjoy a classy, extended boozy brunch, I'd recommend scooping it up! Though I don't know what the experience would be like in less-than-ideal weather.)
After unexpectedly spending so much time talking to my friend, I basically went straight from Hotel Chantelle to Williamsburg, dallying a bit on Bedford Avenue and North 7th Avenue before hitting my next stop: Zenkichi.
This was also the result of an e-mail list deal for me, which was basically a $65 gift certificate for $30. At first, a number of restrictions bummed me out a bit, such as there only being allowed one certificate per table and the special omakase seasonal tasting menu requiring a minimum of two orders per table. But I went through the menu online and figured out a list of things from the a la carte menu that had me quite excited, in addition to figuring that there would be great sake to be had, though they don't have a sake menu on their website.
Much to my pleasant surprise, when I arrived and was taken to my table, I was given a cool towel with which to wash my hands and a menu, on which the waitress pointed out the omakase. Don't you need to have two people for that, I asked her. No, she replied, it's fine! And so I threw my plan to the wind and went with the omakase, plus a premium sake sampler, because hell, why not.
The atmosphere there is comfortingly closed, with seating being in small groups of booths down short hallways. The booths are shielded by roll-up shades, which the server raises and lowers each time they arrive. The table sports a small button, which you use to call your server, should you need them for something other than them bringing your ordered food. (The doorbell-esque sing-song ding-dong of the button was initially a bit off-putting to me -- you can hear it when others nearby press their button -- but I blocked it out after not too long.) Classic jazz music plays in the background and the lights are dim. I saw in a small hallway with a booth filled by a young couple who got started shortly after I did, and it was actually quite pleasurable to be able to both enjoy my food on my own and hear them discuss their experience of it with each other.
I'd skimmed the sake menu and was a little bit overwhelmed by the selection, which wasn't anything compared to the wine selection you get at a restaurant that's known for its wine but was by far the most extensive sake menu I've ever perused in the states. I'm very fond of sake (and Irish whiskey; not really a fan of grape wine) but have never really had the chance to explore it in depth, let alone with guidance, so the sampler seemed like a great opportunity. There were three levels: basic ($19), premium ($24) and whatever-I-don't-remember ($32). The premium sake sampler featured three varieties.
I'm usually a big nigori fan, but I actually wasn't so into the Dai Shichi Yukishibori. It was sparkling and very light, so I couldn't really enjoy the creaminess that I usually like with nigori. The others were also summery and light, but in a more grounded way. I'd say that I liked the Kohakko Nama best, with it having the smoothest flavor of the three.
First up was miso soup, which came out at the same time as the sake.
It was somehow the perfect temperature, hot to the point of needing just the slightest blow to the spoon but never burny. Straightforward with a moderate body, featuring some yummy cabbage.
Next was the chilled plate, which had a few different components.
The sashimi of the day was fluke and the walnut ohitashi of the day was asparagus. Both were fresh and delicious. The asparagus was slightly cooked but still crispy, and the walnut sauce was divine. And I have to admit, as much as I avoid any sushi roll that includes cheese, the nuta miso ae -- which was basically like a philadelphia roll without the rice, or maybe a breakfast salmon sandwich without the bagel -- was delicious because salmon and cream cheese are soulmates and the plump, juicy roe topped it off with the perfect burst of rich liquid saltiness.
The Zenkichi salad was next.
Greens with a cube of fresh, soft tofu on top and light dollop of nutty dressing, it was a great mix of textures. The green actually had a bit of fiber to them, certainly not tough but also not the flimsy things you usually get when someone serves you baby greens. In contrast, the tofu was pure creaminess. I don't think that I'd ever had homemade tofu before this, and it was the perfect combination.
The sumer kara-age, a fried soft shell crab, came in a charming little basket.
I'd actually never had soft shell crab before, and while I didn't think that I would be put off by the shell, I also didn't know exactly what to expect. It turned out to most remind me of taking a bite out of a baked potato, skin and all, from which most of the softer insides have already been removed -- a little tough but entirely chewable and all the more enjoyable for the grounded texture. Also, it was fried. Delicious.
The sumer kara-age came to my table while I was still working on the salad, the only overlap between courses. I did have a momentary wondering if they were trying to rush me, but then decided that I would eat how I wanted. In hindsight, I think that it was just timing where a fried little thing like the crab wants to be served immediately and that's just how the cooking time worked out, as I was not rushed at all in actuality.
The saikyo miso cod and roasted duck were served together.
If there was one plate that had my life flashing before my eyes, it was this one. The roasted duck was actually plain and, if you just ate it on its own (as I foolishly did for one bite), a little dry. But that was because it was meant to be coasted in the mushroom sauce, which turned the dish into a rich, meaty heaven. And the cod, slightly sweet and smooth as butter, actually had me sliding back into my seat a little, eyes closed. It might have been slightly pornographic.
And then, the donburi, which was rare tuna on top of rice. I forgot to take a picture of this one, because let's face it, I was pretty drunk by then and I was also just that eager to get it into my mouth. In addition to the fish being delicious, fresh and rich, it came atop a pile of short-grain white rice. Don't get me wrong, I genuinely do love my brown rice and quinoa and whatever other unrefined or whole grain that you throw my way. But oh my stars, white rice is delicious and I didn't realize how much I'd missed it.
You have a choice of desserts, so I went with the one that I'd seen people raving about in the reviews that I'd skimmed back when I'd been trying to decide which a la carte dishes to try.
The frozen black sesame mousse looked like two moderately-sized scoops of gray ice cream with a sesame cracker stuck into it. And it was delicious. Creamy but light, and not sugary, with a rounded sweetness that had a somewhat starchy quality to it, and the cracker was like a rich ice cream cone in wafer form. It was accompanied by a single malt truffle, about the size of a peanut M&M, that was simply a delicacy.
All in all, dinner on my own there took about an hour and forty-five minutes, with not a bit of that time due to unwanted waiting. I definitely want to go back, though probably just for some sake and a couple a la carte dishes.
Monday was then the day of reckoning, as I felt like crap.
It had actually started mid-day Sunday, with my back starting to kill me by early evening, though I thankfully carry painkillers everywhere I go. I'd attributed it to my three-cocktail afternoon, since alcohol sometimes does lead to musculoskeletal pain for me, and wondered, not for the first time, if my attempts at a healthier lifestyle were killing my body's tolerance for vice or if I was just getting old and, if anything, being in better shape was maybe helping to slow a depressing and inevitable decline. When I woke up on Monday, I also had that swollen sore throat, which I attributed to both the drinking and, you know, a five hour-long one-on-one conversation. I also felt a bit ill in general -- still do now, in fact -- though in hindsight, I think that I probably just got sick from Saturday's downpour -- I'm having flashbacks of a game of frisbee in the rain in the first days of my arrival for my freshman year of undergrad, followed by a case of the summer flu for all of orientation -- and it didn't begin to manifest until a day later, growing worse, though fortunately not too bad, over time.
I very nearly backed out of going to the beach at the last minute on Monday, but I made myself suck it up and am glad that I did.
There ended up being only three of us, two co-workers and me, and it ended up being the perfect beach day. Sunny and just edging from warm into hot, with a pleasant breeze and low humidity. It was the last chance to hit the water before the summer season comes to a close and we're all thrown into the chaos of the school year. I'm not quite ready to let go of summer yet, but that did help to put a nice cap to it.
It also gave me a pretty extreme bikini tan, as I fell asleep in the sun for a while. I was all sunscreened up, but I can only hope that it was sufficient. I'm lucky in that I don't burn, have never had a sunburn in my life, but that also means that I have less immediate reinforcement for good behavior and have to rely on reminding myself to shield from the invisible cancer rays in the sky.
But it was a great fall-asleep-in-the-sun sort of day. There was no cell phone connecting me to the rest of the world. I had nowhere to go afterwards. My friends and I talked about travel and families and The New Yorker versus Harper's. And life was just pretty good.
Even if I did have a blood sugar crash later that day that left me passed out on the futon in a heap of too-mild-to-complain-about-but-gosh-I-want-to misery. Still, I couldn't help but smile.
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