Everybody’s working for the weekend.
Your Halloween is in dire need of one thing: a limo ride to a clandestine warehouse of pumpkin smashing—with battle-axes. And after you’ve quenched your appetite for destruction, quench your appetite for: a Midtown burger and beer, three hours of bottomless margaritas and... yoga (followed by a booze-soaked brunch, naturally).
Your sartorial transition from summer to autumn is almost complete. The only thing still missing: a showstopper. Well, Bergdorf is hosting a made-to-measure suit event beginning tonight. There’ll be live jazz, a bit of smoked salmon and the largest concentration of pinstripe fabric swatches ever assembled.
On one end of the spectrum, there’s molecular gastronomy. On the other end of the spectrum, you grilling in the backyard. Somewhere in the middle, the 4,000-pound bank of spits and pits at Mas (La Grillade). Think of this 80-seat farmhouse as a grilled meat temple. Or a gigantic fire hazard.
You’ve always relied on the Smith for late-night, stout-braised short rib and bathroom-based photo booths. Unfortunately, so has about two-thirds of the city. To alleviate some of the spillover, the perpetually packed bistro is spinning off a new Midtown location: 150 seats, 100-foot zinc bar, slightly less photogenic lavatory.
It was looking pretty bleak on the Chinese-restaurant-secret-disco front for a while. But Madame Wong’s has returned from exile. And while the pop-up party address has changed (now it’s at Red Egg), the scene remains the same. Loud music. Cramped quarters. Pints of leftover pork fried rice.
April Bloomfield is trying something new at the Spotted Pig: not cooking. See, beginning this Sunday, she’ll turn over control of the kitchen to her sous-chef. It’s a series they call Little Piggy Dinners. First up: Filipino night. Reservations are not required, but an appreciation for slow-cooked garlic pork stew is suggested.
