Broke Ass Emily Post: The $100 Dinner

Whew! Thank you for all of the posts and comments on the matter of the $100 dinner (if you missed the initial argument, check it out here). From the responses, it appears as though the entire 1% is forcing everyone I know to drop a cool hundo on boozy Manhattan dinners against their will, and it also seems, regardless of tax bracket, that pretty much everyone feels a certain ambivalence at check time. I am not alone. The problem with the $100 dinner boils down to this: at best, it is easier just to split up a bill evenly, at worst it’s a microcosm of judgment over the life choices of the broke (musician, writer, yoga teacher, butcher, baker, occupier etc.) vs. those of the well heeled (people who chose to be a “banker” on the Oregon Trail). As Hilty so perfectly put it: I didn’t want to bring it up at the table that I was the only one without a well-paying job. So. What to do when the check drops? A collective of like minded souls gave me some great suggestions:

– Always order the most expensive and delicious thing on the menu at a group dinner, that way at least you will have enjoyed the meal you’re paying for.
– Let them know you’re no longer subsidizing their Kobe steak or Caspian Sea caviar.
– Eat absolutely nothing and have one glass of wine. That way you can simply say, “I only had one glass of wine”. No spending, no paying. You could even (sadly) leave early and leave cash for your drink just to be on the safe side.
– Go back to the bathroom and make a break for it?
– And the most popular: Don’t be afraid to grab that thing and do the arithmetic!

Last week I decided to test the waters, put all this talk into action. A group of us went to The Fat Radish, the exact little studied and purposefully casual kind of hole in the wall where these things always seem to go down. Subway tiles, distressed brick, old mirrors, expansive expensive cocktail list with funny names, reclaimed wood tables, bartender with an accent, edison lightbulbs… you know the drill. It was a great crew of girls… ladies…uh… women. And not a bunch of stuffy banker types either- all of us work in one creative field or another- a gallerist, a yogi, an artist- all incredibly lovely, the exact right mix of gorgeous and profane you always hope will fill your table when you first move to New York City. We were kindred spirits. But when the oysters started coming and the cocktails kept raining down, I knew I was going to have to step it up in the stink making department. If a stink was required, a stink I would make.I had a big delicious kale salad, two yummy beers, and when the bill came I snatched it right up, grabbed a pen out of my purse, did my math (I forgot: I am slooow at math), wrote my name and $33 on the back of the bill (yes, that’s how much a kale salad and two beers costs you in lower Manhattan), put my card down and handed it to the person next to me.

She said “I’m so glad you just did that”.

The girl who ordered the oysters and the vodkas said “Aww, Look at that”, referring to my writing my name on the back of the check, “That’s so cute”, and plunked down $90 cash.

The girl across from her said “Thanks for figuring the check out”.

The waiter came and everyone lived happily ever after.

So, I guess the moral of the story is: Only a jerk would be a jerk about splitting the check, and there’s no shame in divvying it up. If someone has a problem with that, then I guess you’ve just paid $100 to know that you don’t have to be friends with that person anymore. A bargain.

Love,

Broke Ass Emily Post

Thanks to Rav, Hilty, Todd, Brittany, Janelle, Mels, Carrie, Andrew, Sara, Irina, and Sally for the advice and moral support. Let’s all go out to a big dinner together sometime soon.

Fat Radish images from here.

Super Bowl: Frito Madness

O behold the bounty of Fritos! After my recent discovery that Fritos aren’t, in fact, the devil, Meags sent me this totally amazing comprehensive history of Fritos. JUST in time to see sweet, half-dumb lookin’ Eli take on the evil juggernaut that is the Pats in this weekend’s Superbowl XLVI. Now- if Peyton goes to the Redskins, then that’ll be something. In the meantime, here’s a recipe for Frito pie:

-Take bag of Frito’s, cut the side open
-Pour in hot chili
-Grate cheese, apply sour cream
-Eat with spork, revel in being American

Get Yerself Organized

To do this week:
1) Get self organized/sidestep dark pits of despair
2) Try not to freak out the incredible Anne Emond with how awesome I think she is-as manifested by stalking her on twitter.

further evidence of my serious Emond-love here and here.

In light of the $100 dinner, we present: The $5 dinner

After all of the discussion over the dreaded $100 dinner that so many of us have found ourselves forced into at one time or another (more on that tomorrow), how refreshing it was to find this series of $5 dinners from the ever-lovely Sarah over at Pink of Perfection. These sweet and simple recipes are culled from pantry staples and feature hearty wintry vegetables- but, like all good things, each has an ingredient or two that makes it zing, pow, sparkle and mmmm. Humble lentil, meet dashing caramelized onion, tomato soup, go ahead bring along your friend poached egg. Seeing as this is essentially my current life motto: live well, but simply, and add a bit zing-pow-sparkle when you need it, these recipes couldn’t come at a better time. Substitute “spending a quiet night with a crossword puzzle and a glass of wine” for “Lentils” and “wear a sparkly jacket and a party hat and go dancing” for “caramelized onions” and this recipe might as well be my g-cal. Life’s good.
Red Lentil Soup with Lemon and Caramelized Onions
Serves 2

3/4 cup red lentils
1 cup chicken stock
1 cup water
pinch cayenne
1/4 teaspoon turmeric
salt
pepper
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 1/2 tablespoon chopped parsley

1 small onion, sliced thin
1 tablespoon butter
1 teaspoon sugar

To caramelize the onions, melt the butter over moderate heat. Throw in the onion and cook until beginning to brown. Sprinkle sugar evenly over onions and continue to cook until onions are brown, sweet, and sticky.

Meanwhile, in a small saucepan, combine lentils with water, stock, cayenne, turmeric, salt, and pepper. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer until lentils are soft and beginning to break down. Turn off heat, and stir in chopped parsley and lemon juice. Ladle into bowls and serve with caramelized onions.

as mentioned, recipes and images from the truly wonderful Pink of Perfection.

Broke-Ass Emily Post

“When Mrs. Worldly gives a dinner… She  looks through her “dinner list” and orders her secretary to invite the Oldworlds, the Eminents, the Learneds, the Wellborns, the Highbrows, and the Onceweres” –Emily Post in Etiquette

Hmmm. I don’t know about this, Madame Emily. This begs a question of the leisure class: what about the charming Uninsureds, the young Mr and Miss Starving, and that sweet French/Indian/Jewish couple les Petit-Brokes? If they get the invite what are they to do?I ask this question in light of a recent slew of what I’ll call simply: The $100 Dinner. Since the dawn of the new year alone Sweetheart and I have gotten the invite to go to three such marvelous sounding dinners, each one at the kind of shiny dinner places where, as taxidermy is my witness, there is certain to be a $36 steak frite on the menu and a $15 rye cocktail named after Dutch Schultz, as well as some sort of great sounding $12 small plate that Sweetheart and I would be more than happy to share. We are invited to celebrate a birthday, a reunion, a friend in town… and so, because we love, we go. We split our small plate brussels sprout lardon jammer, have two glasses of wine, and the bill comes while you’re in the bathroom and it’s broken down… $100. Per person. What the What? Emily Post, despite passing her prime dinner throwing years during the great depression, must have been rich. Otherwise how could she afford so many correct napkins and forks? How could she have left us so bereft of guidance at a time when it’s totally ok for the Wellborns and the Highbrows to blow $100 each on a single meal, but some of us would really rather buy a bridesmaids dress with that money (HAHA JUST KIDDING! We’d rather pay for our HEALTHCARE with that money… or rather, we’d rather pay for 1/6 of our healthcare for one month with that money! Ha ha. ha. [sound of sobbing]).But- I digress. I’m loathe to write any of this down for the same reason I’m loathe to snatch the check up from the table and break out my abacus the moment it arrives. I feel like I sound like a jerk. A petulant, broke jerk. Even though my fellow Americans are supposedly in such an economic slump that double dipping will never again sound like something awesome to do with chips, that doesn’t stop some people from looking at you aghast when you talk about healthcare, ask for a doggy bag, or try to suggest itemizing the bill. No one wants to think about how broke anyone else is. Especially not the broke-asses in question. Sigh. So. Maybe we don’t need you, Miss Post, maybe we need a new you, a Miss Broke-Ass Emily Post for the modern era to tell us what a girl’s to do?

Any guidance, dear readers?

I’m going tonight to my fourth potential $100 dinner tonight, bidding my dear yogi Sara adieu as she departs for India to polish her sanskrit and eat coconuts, and I’m going to try out a few diversionary recessionary tactics. I’ll let you know how it works out.

 

Emily Post quote and image from here.

The Brooklyn Endorsement: Fairway Lobster Roll

One of my New Years Resolutions was to eat more lobster rolls. I like to make realistic goals. To this point, I must give my ringing endorsement of the stellar roll from Fairway Market. It’s no secret that I love Fairway, in part due to their generous burlap sack policy, but the Fairway cafe- tucked in the very back corner of the Red Hook compound, seems like my little secret. It feels especially very special on lone weekday afternoons when it’s all but deserted. The Fairway lobster roll is served on a warm griddled bun, with chips, pickle, and slaw- all for $9. It’s big enough to share (or not) And you get to eat it looking at this:

Happy Weekend, Happy Chinese New Year!

This week marks Chinese Lunar New Year, officially kicking off the year of the dragon! This year there are two parades in Manhattan’s Chinatown, one happened this past Monday, January 23rd DRAGONYEAR, and the second is coming up this Sunday the 29th. On Monday we started the celebration by getting down to Mott street early enough to stake our claim to a prime dim sum and dragon-dance-watching spot, eating pork buns, chicken feet, and delightful garlicky greens while the clatter of drums and the din of cymbals made sure that any evil omens and bad spirits lurking around got the hell out of there. The dragons dance up and down the streets, coming into open businesses to collect money to ensure luck and well-being. This one was wearing a shower cap because it was drizzling and, I guess, like me, dragons are sensitive to humidity ruining their hair. I think he looks pretty great.This paper represents what we ordered over three hours for lunch. Somewhere in those hieroglyphics are the aforementioned pork buns and chicken feet, shrimp dumplings, pork dumplings, vegetable dumplings, scallion dumplings, doughnut noodles (!), spicy squid, Chinese broccoli, garlicky bok choi, bean curd wraps, chili oil, Chinese winter sausage, fried shrimp with bacon, fish balls, sweet custards, sticky rice in lotus leaves, multiple coke classics, and eleven pots of tea- all ordered in Aunt Sheila’s perfectly wonderful Upper-East-by-way-of-Bensonhurst accented cantonese. She’ll tell you “I don’t speak cantonese, I only speak Dim Sum”. Repeat after me: Josh-eeuw-Baow (BBQ pork bun). That’s all you need to know.
And, of course, it was only $15 per person for the feast.Join in the festivities for yourselves this coming Sunday, January 29th, here’s the info:

13th Annual Chinatown Lunar New Year Parade & Festival
11:30 a.m. – 4 pm, Sunday, January 29, 2012
Place: Canal Street South

The parade usually winds throughout Chinatown along Mott, Canal, and Bayard streets, and along East Broadway. Gung hay fat choy!

Divine Lemony Roasted Broccoli

Broccoli gets a bad rap. Relegated to rubbery-ranch dressing ignominy on crudite plates or as the lesser half of Beef’n’ at bad chinese restaurants, humble broccoli doesn’t often get the cruciferous credit it deserves. Mama sent me this recipe, and holy wow- it is delicious! It came out like broccoli candy- and you use the whole head of the broccoli, even the stems. Which, in these recessionary times, is pretty great.

Lemony Roasted Broccoli
Serves 2-4 as a side

Ingredients
* 1 large bunch of broccoli, cleaned, trimmed and cut into florets and chunks of a similar size
* Zest of two lemons (get organic since you’ll be using the skin) and the juice of one of them
* 3-4 cloves garlic, minced or pressed
* 3-4 Tbsps olive oil for roasting
* Sea salt
* Freshly ground black pepper

Directions
1. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Place the broccoli florets on a heavy baking sheet large enough to hold them in a single layer.
2. Toss the garlic with half the lemon zest, all of the garlic, sea salt, pepper, and the olive oil. Roast for 20 to 25 minutes, flipping once to ensure even roasting, until the pieces are crisp-tender and browned at the tips.
3. Remove the broccoli from the oven and toss with other half of the lemon zest and the juice from one lemon. Serve hot.

 

Perfect for V-to-the-egetarians.

Ah-mazing! Recipe and image from here.

Hall and Oates Emergency Hotline

It’s happened to me too many times to count: riding with the windows down, wind in my hair… no Hall and Oates to be found on any radio station. I can’t go for that, no, no can do. In this bright age of new discoveries there’s a fix for similar Hall and Oates based emergencies, and I’ve found it. If you insist on knowing my bliss, I’ll tell you this: 24 hours a day, just dial 719-266-2837 (1-719-26-OATES), follow the instructions, and get your fix. Serious.

 

bizarrely mesmerizing Hall and Oates image from here.

In Defense of Fritos

I once was of the opinion that the simple Frito, an incredibly delicious and copiously fatty corn chip that has starred equally in the boat-ride-adventures of my youth and the roadside-frito-pie-exploits of my recent adulthood, was the devil’s handiwork. Something so delicious must be wrought of the nasties: acesulfame-k, monosodium glucanazoleium, or- at least- yellow 5.

Until today. Today I learned that the humble Frito has but three ingredients: Whole Corn, Corn Oil, and Salt. Heavens to betsy! It’s practically as natural as a home-made tortilla on the open range! Praise the lord and pass the sour cream.

You’re welcome.

frito image from here.