Good Spirits Part II

On Friday night, my friend Joy introduced me to one of her favorite tequilas: cazadores reposado. We shared a glass of it on the rocks with a slice of lime, alternating with a glass of club soda, at the bar at Dos Caminos on Park Ave South. And it was good. Not too overpowering. And, at $12 for a large glass of 76-proof alcohol made from 100-percent agave, a relative bargain--at least by Manhattan bar standards. We were smart enough to have dinner first at a new Asian restaurant a few blocks away called Wild Ginger, where the entrees were cheaper and healthier (I highly recommend the glazed ginger chicken). There's no doubt we could have polished off a couple orders of guac and chips at Dos Caminos if we'd gone there first. Instead, we stood and sipped the cazadores and two hours slipped by seamlessly before I thought to check the time. By then, it was nearly 12:30. I called my husband to tell him I was en route and woke him up. I got home just before 1 a.m. He'd left three bags of Utz chips out for me on the counter (he knows about midnight munchies). But I settled for a glass of water instead and slipped into bed.
On Saturday, my husband took me out to Miyako, a favorite Brooklyn sushi spot--and where we had one of our first dates five years ago. So it seemed an appropriate place to celebrate five years together. It was crowded but we waited less than five minutes. As I wrote on his blog, Miyako is one of those neighborhood spots that we locals don't want to talk up too much for fear it will get too crowded. The fish is always fresh, the sake comes chilled, and the sushi chefs and servers are all Japanese. We split a sashimi sampler with salmon, fluke, and three types--or parts--of tuna (white, red, and yellowtail). Eating white tuna raw, as bad as it might sound, is a truly orgasmic experience. As buttery as salmon, but more flavorful. We ordered another ten pieces of it a la carte, and ate every slice. We also split a cherry blossom roll and dragon rainbow roll. We toasted our good meal and good fortune several times with Ozeki Dry then stumbled home, stopping to buy the early edition of the Sunday New York Times en route. Saturday Night Live was just starting when we got home. David Spade was hosting. He was funnier when he was a cast member (or a character on "Just Shoot me"). Jack Johnson was the musical guest; I fell asleep in the middle of his first set. A true sign I'm not the partier I used to be. I slept straight through most of SNL, while my husband smoked one of the cigars we got in the gift bags at the Chivas Regal launch on Wednesday.
We slept in today. The sun was shining and the temperature had climbed into the 40s for the first time in days. We wanted to take advantage of it, so we took the subway up to the temporary indoor-outdoor exhibit called Art Rock--as in Rockefeller Center. Todd Oldham designed the gateways, which are constructed of orange trailers and decorated like a bachelor-on-a-budget studio apartment. Oldham was the biggest name associated with the exhibition, which comes down on the 14th. [Christo apparently kicked off a whole trend in temporary art exhibits in Manhattan this winter--there's also the appropriately titled Nomadic Museum, which opened last week and will occupy Pier 54 through June, when the entire structure and Gregory Colbert's photographs exhibited within, will be dismantled.] Art Rock displayed the works of 10 relatively unknown national and international artists. My favorite was Matt Johnson's "Dumpster Shaped as Paper Airplane," which was exactly that. It couldn't fly far, I'm sure, but the concept was cool.
Now I'm home sipping a glass of Argentinian Piazzolla Bonardo 2003 from Astor Wines (Lord, the way I've been drinking this week, maybe I should think about doing it for a living!) as my husband prepares grilled bruschetta; chicken roasted with Italian spices, onions and plum tomatoes; and steamed broccoli for dinner. And I catch up on my blogging and raise a glass to good food and good fortune--and a very good husband.