For a break from the snow, if you live in the Northern hemisphere, conventional wisdom would tell you to go head south. But over the President’s Day weekend, my parents were hit with six inches of snow in Mississippi and that snowstorm pummelled the Southeast. So instead, David and I headed north, for my first return trip to New York City since I moved out of Manhattan nearly five years ago. I can’t believe that it has been that long. Going to New York was returning to an old lover; sometimes reminding you vividly of all of the things that you loved and admired, but then shocking you with the aspects of itself that made you keenly aware that you needed to leave. When I was there, there were moments that I felt like I never left at all. There were moments that made me feel like I was crazy to ever leave my tiny little abode on East 83rd Street. Then, there were moments that touched on the reasons why I felt I had to get out when I did. These were the thoughts that I thought I would blog about. But I am not going to blog about that today, perhaps because it is an entirely emotionally disjointed mess that I haven’t made sense of in my mind (kind of like my entire existence in the city).
On Saturday, we hit a perennial favorite, Sarabeth’s for breakfast. I have been to the Eastside and Westside locations, but this was my first visit to Central Park South. I can’t help it. I still crave that Cinnamon French Toast with bananas. Even though Sarabeth’s prices have increased exponentially in the past five years, the French Toast is still worth it.
We spent the afternoon shopping for a Valentines Day combination of cold weather and warm weather goods. For the seemingly never-ending winter on the East Coast, I purchased a new coat from Burberry. In the anticipation of warm weather ahead, I picked up some new sunglasses and topsiders from Bloomingdales.
For Valentine’s Day dinner, we did the Prix Fixe menu at Hearth, in the East Village. To be expected, my favorite course was the dessert course. The chocolate souffle was delicious on its own, but combined with cardamom infused creme anglaise, it was spectacular. It was a great way to finish off a delicious weekend of New York City eating.
Thank you, New York, for reminding me of all of the reasons that I love you (even if you also gave me moments that reminded me of reasons that required us to be parted from a permanent relationship). New York, I still love you, but you can weigh me down.