Private party

Back in New York for a conference, I head out of my disappointing hotel for dinner, which I plan to have at A Dish of Salt –- the Chinese restaurant where I had dinner the night after I took my first deposition ever, in Rockefeller Center, on a snowy night in December, just days after I was admitted to the bar.

I set off down 5^th Avenue, past the places that I know.  FAO Schwartz, Rockefeller Center, St. Patrick’s.  Along the way I angle around a bit, looking for stores or buildings or anything that catches my eye and triggers some memory of a place I walked to just once before, years ago, in the same way that I can walk up a stream for just the second time, years after the first, and remember riffles between the rocks where I found trout. 

Sure enough, by following the little things that catch my eye, I come right onto A Dish of Salt.  “Closed this evening for a private party,” the little sign says.  Ah well.

I set off down the street again, looking now for inspiration.  Along the way I remember reading something in a magazine about the Oyster Bar at Grand Central, so off I tack in that direction. 

And so, at my little table among the other crowded little tables, I have a Brooklyn Pilsner, some Duck Point oysters, and then a plate of grilled smelts, which I sprinkle with sea salt, and coleslaw.  All of which seems fabulous.

You can have your private party this evening.  And I will have mine.