I'll have the sea bass, medium rare
I was there to celebrate the elopement of two college friends who have stuck together lo these many years. Manhattan was great, but Brooklyn (where they live) was even better. Blue Sky Bakery, if you ever read this, please send me your recipe for banana-bran-chocolate chip muffins. Their warm, melting toastiness haunts my dreams.
Also, I wish I could start an Arecibo in my neighborhood. I call cabs and they just never come. They hate me. I'm talking to you, 333-3333. But Arecibo, and its cutely-named competitor Evelyn, are now programmed into my phone in the vain hope that they will come to my house in San Francisco. They'd be like, "Five minutes, darling. What are your cross streets? San Francisco and San Francisco? Ok, honey, five minutes," and then a Town Car would emerge magically out of the ocean fog and they would drive me where I want to go quickly, and at a reasonable price. Dare to dream.
We also hit the little wine bar incarnation of Al Di La and Franny's. I thought SF was supposed to be the capital of strident locavoristic over-sharing. But Franny, you guys take the cake.
We also had lunch at Les Halles, which I will happily admit was damn solid and authentic, even though I was fully prepared to be snarky. I don't know why I expected less. I am not ashamed to admit that I love Anthony Bourdain. Afterwards we visited Laboratorio del Gelato, which was good, but not as mind-boggling as people claim it to be.
I felt like I got in a lot of sights (read: restaurants) and spent some good quality time with old friends, so the New York experience was a winner. Next time, however, nothing will stop me from visiting this place. NOTHING!