Plates and Pregnancy

I spoke too soon on Tuesday. The next day we slipped right back into winter weather. Freezing temps, sleet then snow. I'd say at least half the city was caught off guard, and shivering, in their overly optimistic clothes choices. When I slipped out to pick up lunch from a nearby deli, the snow was coming down sideways, and the wind was blowing so hard I finally gave up on trying to use my umbrella to fend off the freezing rain. But at least I had on gloves and a scarf and a leather jacket. Even some of my co-workers were sporting strappy sandals and skirts and regretting it (needless to say, they ordered in). They either hadn't listened to New York One, which actually got it right--though the snow came about six hours earlier than Pat Kiernan had forecast--or they were just in denial. The month of March is full of wacky weather like that in this city. One day it teases with the promise of spring-- it's sunny and in the 60s and you're ready to pack up your winter clothes. The next day, the temps drop and the snow falls, and you spend half the morning digging out your jacket and winter hat. I've become so paranoid (or maybe it's just that I'm a procrastinater) that I don't pack up my winter wardrobe until May.
But today, Saturday (I know, I've been remiss in my blog updates this week), it's sunny and (relatively) warm and I can actually take advantage of it since I don't have to go to work.
Last night, I met a couple friends at a swanky SoHo spot whose name embodies the latest New York food trend: Plate NYC. Other examples include Mario Batali's Casa Mono, Alta (which claims to be the "anti-tapas bar"), and Tia Pol (a small spot serving similarly sized Spanish plates). Plate NYC describes itself as "eclectic Pan Asian, Pacific Rim and Latin American" (basically, it doesn't know what it is) and divides its menu into "plates": small, lead, main, and side. And bowls. It's sort of a twist on tapas. The idea, ostensibly, is to order a few "plates" of various sizes and share. I think it's really just an excuse to make more money. Two small or side plates equal one entree, so you end up ordering double the items and paying twice the price (even the smallest plates range from $7 to $14). On the other hand, it gives you the chance to sample several different dishes (very good for those, like me, who have a tough time deciding on just one item). Of course, two of us ended up ordering almost exactly the same thing: shrimp and lo mein. Though Shubha is a vegetarian so she skipped on the shrimp. But Stacie got two small plates--coconut Gulf shrimp and crab and avocado spring rolls--and shared (she's very pregnant, and was craving peanut butter and ice cream sandwiches--neither of which were on the menu). Shubha and I at least ordered different sake-tails, which were very good, even if they cost the same as our lo mein and shrimp bowls. (And more than a carpenter earns in two days in the Philippines).
Over dinner, we were dicussing another trend, at least among our friends: pregnancy. We're all in our 30s and in various stages of family planning. Stacie is well ahead of us; she got married in July and will have both a mortgage and baby by May. Shubha and her husband's "baby" is their dog (if their treatment of the dog is any indication, they will be excellent parents--before their trip up from Atlanta to NYC this weekend, they actually interviewed several "doggy day care" centers before deciding which would care for their pooch while they were away). And my husband and I... well, we have plants. And I have my sister and Stacie, through whom I can experience pregnancy (and, now, parenthood) vicariously. It's a good chance to view firsthand how your life, and your body, change (hint: A LOT) when you have a child. And it's good incentive to work my butt off and enjoy my social life and relative mobility now, so that I will be prepared financially, and emotionally, when I experience pregnancy firsthand.