The Neue Galerie is one of my favorite museums, despite the meanie no kids policy. It turned out to be a perfect place for my 90-year-old grandfather, since its self-contained size and interesting small collection makes it a very manageable activity, and eating options are a major cut above typical snooze-fest museum fare. The upstairs room at Caf Sabarsky was too packed, so we opted for the newer and relatively austere downstairs spot. The wait was slightly shorter for a table in the room that's much more akin to Adolf Loos's "Ornament and Crime"
M.O. than Josef Hoffmann's early works.
Grandpa loved his newfangled open-faced liverwurst sandwich with onion confit, much to our surprise. We weren't sure how he'd respond to the new twist on his poor boy old school favorite. I surmise that the cost of eating out in Dallas has been creeping upward, because he didn't complain about the prices, even when he asked for a coffee "refill" and was charged for another cup. It's not a bottomless cup kind of place, natch.
Homemade sptzle with wild mushrooms, peas and sweet corn got me over my tarragon aversion. It's an herb I'm not quite sure what to do with, other than mix it with carrots, and I'm generally not a big fan of its unusual flavor. Clearly the kitchen knows what they're doing with seasoning this homey, creamy dish.
After a dizzying experience at MoMA ("I think I'm starting to hate art," Grandpa said after pushing our way through the crowd) and a long cab ride downtown, I dragged him to Lupa so I could selfishly have a bowl of the bucatini all'Amatriciana that's a requirement of every NYC trip. Their rich version uses actual guanciale and, unusually, sliced red onions. I forget how oily it is, but ho fatto la scarpetta anyway. My eating agenda was not without reward for Grandpa; he loved the rainbow trout cooked en papillote with wild mushrooms. This lunch rounded out his week of good eating (and celeb spotting) in New York which included Balthazar, Sparks, and Brasserie sans moi.
Later that week the kids had no problem devouring below-average pizza purchased near Yankee Stadium and eaten in the park across the street from the stunning Depression-era courthouse and Josh and Brady's awesome new digs on the bustling Grand Concourse. Thankfully we'd already had Lombardi's so I didn't experience Great Pizza Deprivation. Still, sad that here I had to request the pizza not be given to us under-baked with snowy white crust. The most memorable part of this lunch – other than the company, setting, and occasional roar of the crowd during the game in-progress – was when Charlotte adroitly caught a falling slice in between her ankles. Clearly a critical skill for any New York City kid.