Daily Blague

Last Thursday, I unpacked the new Breville juicer and put it to work. Following a recipe in the accompanying manual, I juiced one apple, a bunch of carrots, and most of a head of celery. This produced twelve ounces of an interesting and not at all unpleasant potation. But I was curious about wheatgrass, called for the the Ultimate Juicing that I'd also bought at Amazon. Having heard from Ms NOLA that wheatgrass would be available at Friday's Greenmarket in Union Square, I proposed that we meet at the Shake Shack for lunch and then pick up the grass. Ms NOLA had told me about the Shake Shack, too, and somehow I'd gotten the idea that it, too, was in Union Square. In the event, Because I was running errands, after all, not promenading, it never occurred to me to bring the camera. Now I must flog myself never to leave Yorkville without it.

The Shake Shack, which is actually in Madison Square (at the intersection of Fifth Avenue, Broadway, and 23^rd Street, formerly a hub of the insurance biz), is the most improbable thing in the world, because it’s almost exactly what its name suggests: a smallish pavilion that turns out dreamy American treats, from cheeseburgers and fries to ice cream sundaes. It has been a very long time since such an operation could be found in a city park. It’s open from spring to fall only, and all seating is outdoors. There are no rest rooms, and credit cards are not accepted. The place is run by restaurateur Danny Meyer, whose famous eateries, Eleven Madison Park and Tabla, sit side by site right across Madison Avenue. As I munched on a double cheeseburger, I tried to recall what it was that the meal reminded me of, but I only thought of it today, three days later. On our drives to and from Candlewood Lake in the Pourover days, we'd often stop at the Red Rooster in Sodom, New York. (I kid you not; Sodom is actually a part of the town of Southeast, which includes the village of Brewster.) The Red Rooster (scroll down) may well have been what Danny Meyer had in mind, so reminiscent is the Shake Shack's nourriture.

After lunch – Ms NOLA regaled me with entertaining tales of her alma mater - we took the train to Union Square, stopping first at the big Barnes & Noble (for the restroom, ahem) and noting that Kazuo Ishiguro is going to do a signing there on Wednesday. (Ms NOLA got a copy of his book just the same.) Then we plunged into the Greenmarket, which is actually a sort of fertile crescent across the top and sides of the Square. We found wheatgrass almost immediately, and I decided on the $7 flat, which ought to make a few drinks. (I know; I ought to have tried it already, but one thing and another - most recently, a plate of leftover fried chicken - got in the way.) I bought some parsley (both kinds) at another stall. Then we got back on the Broadway local and headed uptown to the Greater New York Orchid Show at Rockefeller Center.

After buying a windbreaker and picking up the scores, we headed for the Carnegie Hall station, as it would be called in a sensible world, I to take the N or the R to 59^th Street and the uptown Lex, Ms NOLA to catch the Q, which originates there, home to Brooklyn. I was so tired that I wondered how on earth I would ever make it to the New York Collegium concert at St Vincent Ferrer.