My Week of Culture!
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I’m not the most cultured person in the world even though I spend half the year in New York City, which I’m told has tons of museums and stuff. Maybe it’s cause I grew up in a family that played up culture all the time and I was like “meh” in response. I like reading okay and I used to love art as a child. But mostly I just binge Netflix like everyone else. Oh, and food is considered culture now, right? [Desperate voice] Right?
The last week, however, I went nuts on the culture front. My friend who runs a theater in NYC invited me to see White Girl in Danger, the new play by Michael R. Jackson, this dude who won a Pulitzer for his last play A Strange Loop. I loved it, even though I’m not a big fan of musicals or having to think late into the night (it went on for 3 hours!). And now I can’t get this song out of my head which goes, “Lesbians! Lesbians! Sex! Sex! Sex!” See, thoughtful work can be entertaining too.
Then, another friend invited me to a concert at what I think used to be Avery Fischer Hall (I think it’s the Wu Tsai Theater now). It was a bunch of Hayden, Mozart and Schubert conducted by Andras Schiff, who is, like, totally beloved by classical music people. The new hall sounded great. And as for the Schiff-meister, mwah, chef’s kiss!
So, yeah, I like legitimate theater and all the other stuff to which I have to wear pants, but I also drank a fair amount of martinis and discovered Okiboru, the Tsukemen joint on Orchard Street wherein you dunk the delicious fat noodles in a bowl of ethereal chicken broth.
I guess all that thinking and art appreciating really made me hungry! Seriously, these are some of the best noodles I’ve had in the city. Walk, don’t crawl.
My Week of Culture!
I'm a rural Midwesterner surrounded by groundbeef aficionados. And, yes, here in Eastern Nebraska groundbeef is one word, as is Buschlite, and jakebrake.
My wife and I honeymooned in NYC, and our days were shaped around food. We ate at Katz's, Alma (in Brooklyn), Home—which is sadly closed now—and a dozen other restaurants.
What we didn't do was take an elevator to the top of any towers or stroll in Central Park, so as far as I'm concerned, food is culture, as is a petri dish.
Gary's photographer needs some real credit: thank you!
The delightful photos, usually of Gary holding a beverage or a plate or both—or with food hovering mysteriously in the foreground—are an essential anchor for each post.