Lake George

Hawkeye and I headed up to Lake George for a quick getaway in June. Instead of writing a recap of our itinerary, I decided to share some of the lessons I learned along the way.

1. When in doubt, don't Zipcar. There's me looking all happy after renting and picking up my Zipcar Mini Coupe. Too bad when I got the whopping $600 bill afterwards I wasn't so happy. Zipcar is a huge rip-off. Here I thought I was being economical by renting a Zipcar, but little did I know to read the fine (invisible) print on all the forms. What was quoted as a $200 weekend car rental tripled after I got stuck in Yankees traffic which resulted in us being 40 minutes late to return the vehicle, and we exceeded the miles driven and travel radius limits. Who knew? Never again, Zipcar, never again. They keep sending me a survey request and I can't even utter the name without getting upset.

2. Bring a map and a compass when leaving Manhattan and do not trust Mapquest as a substitute for either. It took us nearly two hours to get out of the city, into New Jersey and back again. It was some of the most frustrating driving I've ever done in my life. It was worse than Clark Griswold in "National Lampoon's European Vacation." We kept seeing signs for the exits we were supposed to be taking, but never saw the actual exits. I-95 is the devil's highway.

3. If you're thinking about visiting Lake George, don't stay in the village. It was shockingly very seedy. The strip had a lot of souvenir shops, some low-budget motels, miniature golf courses and arcades -- not quite what I was expecting. To find the beautiful, quaint, charming parts of Lake George you have to drive north to Bolton Landing, which leads me to No. 4.

4. If you can afford it, spend the money to stay at The Sagamore. I remember seeing a "Save the Date" on Carebear's fridge several years ago and it planted the Lake George seed in my head. I made a point of making it out to Bolton Landing just to see if The Sagamore was as beautiful as it looked in the pictures. It was. No wonder people get married there. The best part is the dock filled with lounge chairs. We lingered out there for a few minutes but couldn't take the bugs. You can just sit and lay out with the lapping water at your toes.


5. Eat at Mr. Brown's Pub (the hotel's casual dining option). And while eating, stay tuned for their live musician. A round burly man was performing the Saturday we were there and he was amazing. He sang everything from Matchbox 20 to Willie Nelson and he sounded fantastic. Every time he started a new song I couldn't believe how great he was and I kept on saying it to Hawkeye. "This guy is so good!" The fried ravioli and macaroni and cheese are a must.



6. Bed and breakfasts in Lake George are hard to please. We tried booking a single weekend night at several and most of them wouldn't take us. The majority have two-night minimum stays. All except Alynn's Butterfly Inn, named after the lovely couple Al and Lynn who run it and Lynn's love for all things butterfly.


7. Lynn is a fabulous cook and you won't want to miss her morning frittata and French toast. We enjoyed meeting the two other families staying at the inn and sharing breakfast and chitchat with them. The experience at Alynn's inspired me to want to enroll in a hotel management program so I too might open up a bed and breakfast someday.

8. Show up with a bottle of wine so you can relax on the porch and play Scrabble. The inn is located in Warrensburg, about 15 minutes from downtown Lake George, so if you need anything, best buy it there. There isn't much to the town of Warrensburg except antique shops.

9. Whether or not you are a chaps-wearing urban cowboy, make a stop in Rafter J Western World. You will not be disappointed. I walked away with a straw cowboy hat and a lot of love for the place. This store had more of a cowboy boot selection than anywhere I'd ever seen. I found a pair that I fell in love with and am extremely excited I just discovered its Web site and I can now order them if I wish. Scratch that, the Web site actually only has a few pairs of boots on sale. Bummer. The store sticks out like a splinter --you can't miss it on the main Warrensburg drag.

10. An overnight stay is not enough to really enjoy Lake George. Instead, take a three-day weekend. We had ambitious plans to go sailing, kayaking and hiking and we accomplished none of these. Going the bed and breakfast route is the best way to take a break from hectic city life. Fall is fast approaching and I'm already planning some weekends to road trip and discover the fall foliage. The bed and breakfast stay is relaxing, peaceful and it's not bad having someone else who loves to entertain wait on you hand and foot, and actually enjoy it. Al and Lynn were some of the warmest and friendliest and smiliest people I've met in a long time. They clearly enjoy what they do and though they work 48 weeks out of the year (I asked when they take a vacation and their month off is in April), they did not seem overworked or tired or burnt out. I hope to find something in my future that keeps me perky and smiling 365 days a year...

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Jadis

Jadis was a delightful mistake.

I was supposed to eat at Freemans that night. I was mentally prepared to face the stuffed elk, deer antlers and fox fangs on the walls and countertops of Freemans (I'm not really sure what animals are stuffed at Freemans, but I was warned, if weary of eating surrounded by taxidermy, don't go).

I went to Jadis with a fellow Wahoo. He was visiting the East Coast from Calif. and we were "set up" by mutual friends. He was the one who suggested Freemans, and I was excited, having missed a girls' dinner there not too long ago. I was meeting him after work and was starving. Whenever I make dinner plans I tend to save room in my stomach by fasting the entire day. Ok, I don't fast entirely, but I eat one less pound of salad then I normally do at my office cafeteria.

When my Wahoo pal called and said there was at least an hour wait at Freemans I was disappointed. That was not going to cut it. I needed food and I needed it now.

We headed east from Freeman Alley and just a few blocks away he stopped and said, "Let's try this place." I looked inside. It was deadsville -- not entirely what I had in mind for a first-time-hanging-out dinner. He vouched for it being "pretty good." I vouched for my stomach growling. We marched right on in.

We sat one of the small wooden tables towards the front. There was one other couple eating. They glanced up at us like we had disturbed their private seating. Sorry, guys. The server came up to us and in his French accent asked if we'd like some wine. We glanced over the list and my new friend picked a bottle of white wine.

I enjoyed the warm atmosphere of Jadis with its exposed brick and dimly lit space, though the staff was not quite as warm. There was something about our server that was off. It seemed like what he was doing was beneath him. Maybe he was a manager or owner filling in for a server who called out? That would make sense. He seemed to be knowledgeable of the items on the menu but when it came to taking our orders he was short and couldn't be bothered when we needed something in addition to what was already on our table -- more of a back of the house type than front of the house.

We ordered a few different items and just shared them all. This was the mesclun salad with balsamic and bacon-wrapped scallops. It came out looking so pretty I thought it could double as a funky dessert. The balsamic dressing looked like chocolate, and it tasted just as sweet and thick. The bacon was crispy and the scallops were smooth.

We also ordered an assortment of cheese. I tried asking our man what the choices were and what some of the unrecognizable cheeses were and he kind of brushed the question aside. I settled for what I knew: goat cheese, Manchego, and Gruyere.

We shared a sandwich as well, one with ham, Tomme de Savoie and caramelized onions. It was really good, but I think I would have liked the option of having it heated, though this probably isn't the French way. Heated sandwiches seem to be an American phenomenon, or at least a New York City obsession. I don't remember ordering ham and butter sandwiches at patisseries in France and them coming out warm. The caramelized onions made all the difference in this sandwich. I don't normally order them on sandwiches but I think they are going to be my new tomato replacement.


And finally dessert! This chocolat fondant looks more like chocolat tumblant. It was the perfect end to a fun dinner. Whether or not our man was a server, a people person or just having a bad day, he nailed this recommendation. And the strawberries were a nice addition to the oozing warm chocolate. You needed something to soak up the chocolate.


I am really glad Freemans didn't work out that night, and I know I will go back, just not when I'm hungry. I was forced to eat somewhere on the fly that night, a feat that can be disastrous. But that's part of the fun of New York City dining. It's the unexpected delicious discoveries -- walking into a restaurant whose name you've never heard of on a Thursday night with no wait -- that make this city great. We're so used to planning out everything -- from the moment we wake up to the moment we put our heads on the pillow. Imagine the restaurants I'd discover if I incorporated a neighborhood walk into picking restaurants, rather than just typing names on the Internet all day. In fact, I think that's going to be my new plan ;)

42 Rivington St., between Forsyth & Eldridge St.
212-254-1675

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Where in the World...

is Mona?

Put on your thinking caps, New Yorkers, and guess the location.

Here's a hint: where modern art meets daytime drinking.

My friend Architetto designed this installation so I'm allowed to gloat.

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Coney Island

Every summer I have a craving for Coney Island. I consider it one of my guilty pleasures. I don't know what it is, or why, because after a day spent guzzling beer and Nathan's hot dogs, and hopping on and off the rickety rundown rides, I leave feeling like I never want to go back. It's crowded, it's dirty, it's expensive to go on the rides and play the games, and the boardwalk actually has a "freak show." I have never been the circus type, yet nevertheless, when the temperatures heat up and the days get longer, I am lured to Coney Island like I'm lured to Thursday happy hours.

FoxyLady and I decided to trek on the subway for a fun-filled afternoon of Coney craziness. We arrived at about noon and started the day off with a feast at Nathan's and a walk on the boardwalk. Girls gotta eat, right?


The lines were thankfully very short, yet we experienced a slight hiccup ordering our food. The interaction from start to finish was right out of a skit on Comedy Central. I speak Spanish and I tried to say cerveza several times, but you'd think I had been Jennifer Lopez. The girl taking our orders stared at me completely dumbfounded and could not punch the items into the computer. She glanced at me for what felt like three minutes while I repeated that I wanted a large beer, fries and a hot dog. Something must have clicked because she finally disappeared off to find someone who could help. Was this that outlandish of a request? Maybe Nathan's had become Nathanial's since I'd last been there and I should have ordered some saucisson and wine.

Another Nathan's girl came to the rescue and successfully punched in my order. Whew! I couldn't stare at the man making the hot dogs anymore -- I was about to hop over the divider and scoop two up myself, leave a $20 bill and say, "Skip the change!"

Next up, FoxyLady. She ordered the same thing I did minus the fries. Just two items: a beer and a dog. [Insert previous paragraph here.] If she thought I was J-Lo, she thought FoxyLady was Gwyneth Paltrow. The exact same thing happened not thirty seconds after I had finally successfully gotten my lunch. When was this girl going to figure it out? And this time, it took her longer to decide what to do. "Go get some help!" I looked at FoxyLady and just could not believe what was taking place in front of us. I understand first day jitters but this was unbelievable. If you can't take an order verbally, much less figure out what the patron owes then what the heck are you going to do?


We eventually made it to a seat, gobbled up our Nathan's goodies like we were in an eating contest against Kobayashi, and headed on our merry way. The beer tasted a little bit skunktified, but it was a cold beverage that we really struggled to get our hands on so we didn't care. As the beer warmed up, however, the bad taste intensified and we tossed them way before the last drop.


Next we took a stroll on the boardwalk. It was a beautiful day temperature-wise but the sky was a bit hazy. People of all shapes, ages, sizes and colors were out on the boardwalk: bare-chested men in spandex exercising, hairy-chested men lying face up on benches, young couples walking hand in hand, musicians toting their banjos and bongos, families with their beach toys, and FoxyLady and me. We ventured down to this building that was made famous in "Two Weeks Notice." To this day I don't know what it is or what it was used for. It's such a beautifully structured building it's a shame it sits in waste and ruin and graffiti. We poked our head inside and it was just a huge massive space. It would make for an awesome end of summer party.



We turned around after I snapped this picture. I really wanted to get a close up of the old man and his umbrella, chilling in front of the building like he was its guardian. Maybe he is. He had a radio, a book and protection from the sun-- what more do you need?

I took these few pictures from the pier. The pier is lined with fishermen, their tackle boxes and hooks. I was afraid I'd get snagged by something or someone. FoxyLady and I got a few catcalls and just kept on walking, focusing on the end of the pier. I'm not sure what these guys were catching right off the shore, besides the tourists' attention. We did see one guy toying with his latest catch. I saw a few photographers out capturing the local fishermen. I wondered if there was some sort of hierarchy, or territory on the pier. Did they have assigned spots? What happened if Diego was in Miguel's spot on Friday? Would there be a war of fishes?


From the boardwalk we headed to the New York Aquarium. I didn't even know New York had an aquarium. It was an affordable $12 for adults and it was the best money I spent all day. I was blown away by the aquarium. Upon first glance it looks like nothing more than a small bomb shelter. But once you walk inside it magically expands and there's a whole inner "courtyard" and there are all kinds of exhibits and species to explore: from sea otters that I usually only get to see off the coastline of Carmel, Calif., and walruses, to manta rays and sea turtles. It was a delight walking around and seeing all the creatures. I couldn't wait to get home, tell my friends to go visit and write about it. They even have a seal show which we foregoed to hop on the giant Wonder Wheel.


The Wonder Wheel was one of the two rides we hopped on that day. It's big, it's slow but the kicker is there are sliding cars, so once you get to the "sliding point," your car shoots down a track. This was a little hairy at first but I got the hang of it after a couple of times around.

Next we ventured onto the famous Cyclone coaster. There are no loops on the Cyclone. Frankly, if there were, this ride would have been shut down decades ago. It felt like the great-great- grandpa of roller coasters. Every turn and every drop we could hear its bones creaking and wincing like it was in pain, and once we headed up I wasn't sure we'd make it. I had been on it once before with Swimster but had forgotten the feel of it. FoxyLady said she got more of a kick out of my screaming and shrieking than the actual ride itself. If you have any sort of injury, whether it be a paper cut or a sore muscle, avoid this screamer at all costs.

After a few beers, playing and losing one of the games miserably -- I always unsuccessfully vie for one of the extra large stuffed animals -- we headed home. I was suffering from sun fatigue and feeling stuffed. The only other item of food we tried was an arepa from one of the boardwalk stands. It was miserably awful. I asked the lady ten times to heat it up more so the cheese in between the corn patties was actually melted, but like the lady at Nathan's , she could not comprehend the words that were coming out of my mouth.

Coney Island is getting a face lift, and while a lot of New Yorkers see this as a bad thing, I think it will be great. Maybe with some new restaurants and new rides, I'll want to go out multiple times a summer, rather than just once to get my yearly fix.

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The Spotted Pig

The Spotted Pig.

When I first heard of this New York City hotspot, I thought, the party gods must be crazy. To me the name summons up images of a farmhouse or what might be the name of an old inn during the eighteenth century, where travelers, tradesmen and revolutionaries might have stopped in for a steak and a stein.

The fact that celebrities like Jake Gyllenhaal, Mario Batali, who is a part owner of the restaurant, and Gwyneth Paltrow are rumored to spend an evening here and there at a place by the name of The Spotted Pig confused me.

The Spotted Pig and its aura remained a mystery to me for over three years. I was too intimidated to even try going. I didn't want to be that girl sitting in a corner, not knowing the proper protocol on eating at such a place.

I remember reading that the owner, Ken Friedman said, "If I didn't own The Spotted Pig, I wouldn't come here, because I wouldn't know how to get in." This certainly didn't help my nervousness and hesitation in trying it.

What I envisioned Spotted Pig to be was surprisingly accurate. I pictured a dark place with little lighting, a dark wooden interior and bright beautiful people hunched over their plates of burgers and good steaks. I walked into The Spotted Pig and thought, "Aha!" I am a sucker for dark cavernous restaurants with exposed brick. The Spotted Pig has windows that wrap around its corner location, so it's anything but dark. The brick archways add even more to its charm. Everything except the food is done on a small scale. The tables are tiny. The room is tiny. The bar is tiny. The shoestring French fries are tiny, but no tastes are tiny.

Though the restaurant's appearance matched what I envisioned, my preconceived notions of what the clientele and staff would be like couldn't have been more off. I assumed the staff would be a much stiffer, ruder and impenetrable crowd. Instead they were warm, welcoming, friendly and easygoing.

When we first decided to go, I figured I better dress up to the tens or we'd be dining on the curb that night. I have since been to The Spotted Pig twice. Once with FunStar and once with Fashionista. I had to return because the first time I made the mistake of eating too much of a free lunch at work, and had no interest in trying the burgers for fear of turning into a spotted pig. When I saw the servers parading around all night, flaunting the enormous heaps of fries and burgers in front of me I knew I had to come back.

I sat at the bar waiting for FunStar and saw a martini come out with dark olive juice. I died. What a brilliant idea. I asked the bartender for one immediately. And here's how it looked. It was the perfect blend of dirty, and what I liked is I could actually see the olive juice in it, and I felt better about myself for not drinking straight up vodka. It was delicious -- so delicious I helped myself to another before tactfully switching to beer.

The wait wasn't very long for a table, which was a pleasant surprise. And I learned very quickly that the staff at The Spotted Pig is catering and attentive. They kept coming up to us, reminding us we were on their radar and we would be seated as soon as possible. Was I in the right place?

We sat down at one of the small circular tables off the front windows. It was a tight squeeze for three of us but we made do, and the staff is constantly checking for empties to make more room. I sat in the same table my second time as well.

For our appetizers we ordered the devils on horseback -- they came highly recommended by our server. I'm not sure if the devils are the prunes or the bacon, but these juicy bacon-wrapped prunes are my new favorite snack. A lot of sweet goes a long way with the salty bacon.


Next we tried the sheep’s ricotta gnudi with brown butter and sage. I wish I could click my heels and be at the table biting into these buttery globes. Gnudi means "nude" and it tastes like ravioli without the pasta skin. I'd never tasted anything so heavenly in my life. I don't have any other gnudi experience to compare Spotted Pig's to, but the bar is now set very high.

We also tried an antipasti plate. It looks like a prosciutto pizza without the crust. I would have preferred if some bread was served with it. It was awkward grabbing big slices of prosciutto off the plate. The prosciutto was moist and chewy -- just the way I like it. I could have lived without the peppers -- they didn't really add anything to the dish.

For our entree we shared the slow-roasted salmon with soy beans. This was our least favorite dish of all, partly because I'm not a salmon lover, and partly because the flavors just didn't match up to me. Something was off. The thick sauce reminded me of a Hollandaise sauce -- not something I want to be eating with a light, healthy fish like salmon.

For dessert we tried the lemon and lime tart. It was a cross between a sweet lemon bar from the local bakery and a key lime pie. The crust was on the bland side. It was nothing to write mom about -- I wished we had saved room for another side.

The second time I went to The Spotted Pig I made sure of not eating a big lunch so I'd be ravenous for the burger. And I was.

If you go to The Spotted Pig, do not be shy about ordering the burger. I'm sure everyone thinks the same thing, "Oh I want to be different, I'll order something else besides the burger." Do not fall into this trap. It is a mistake. They're ordering the burger for a reason. The chargrilled burger with Roquefort cheese and shoestrings is one of the best thing I've bitten into. Even the bun was toasted and buttery. It reminded me of the old Fuddruckers buns I used to love and crave as a kid in Conn. I've never been a fan of fries with a twist. Give me big Belgian fries, please. But I could get used to these shoestring fries, especially with the Rosemary. I felt rude grabbing a chunk with my fingers and shoving it in my mouth. But when I glanced over to the table of elderly metro-sexuals doing the same thing, I didn't feel too bad.

The staff was just as charming my second time as the first, so it wasn't just a fluke. And if you go late make sure to end your dinner with a drink upstairs in the bar. I am often asked what my top five restaurants are in the city, and I am never 100% confident in my answers. But now I can assertively say that The Spotted Pig is up there. I'll take its burger over Corner Bistro's any day.

314 W. 11th St. at Greenwich St.
212-620-0393

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