Last one to the weekend is a rotten egg.
You’re going to do these holidays right—with two masseuses, a barber and a glass of scotch. Plus, we’re sending you a box of truffles directly from Northern Italy (from the French Laundry’s source) and getting you 50% off gifts for everyone in your life at Alpha. Treat yourself...
Poker isn’t art. Unless it’s played by dogs. Or by a bunch of naked people in a weeklong strip game that’s happening inside a window display on Walker Street. Apparently, it’s a commentary on the economy. And the lack of full-frontal nudity at the World Series of Poker.
You know what you’re wearing a week from now. Sweatpants, sweatshirt and a protective stuffing bib. But before and after: still undecided. Then along came another Steven Alan sale filled with seasonal regulars like jersey-lined dress shirts and down-stuffed hoodies. You can never have too many goose-feather-insulated options.
There’re changes afoot at Mister H. No, the brothel-looking bungalow hasn’t added another stripper pole (it’s still got just the one). But they have instituted a happy hour. And, naturally, that comes with new cocktails (jalapeño-infused tequila), new bar snacks (fried cauliflower fritters) and fresh linens. You know, for the crimson velour daybeds.
Nope, the Knicks aren’t back yet. But buck up, at least the Garden’s got some new pints and sliders. See, one of your game-day staples, the Ainsworth, has opened a gastropub inside the world’s most famous arena. Expect pressed Cuban sandwiches, Philly sliders and, well, a slew of things better than a soft pretzel.
The key to a well-made Thanksgiving dinner: delegation. So this year you’ll turn the baster over to Torrisi, Momofuku or Dinosaur Bar-B-Que. Each joint’s preparing a version of the meal for takeout, featuring everything from a cider-brined bird to a s’mores pie. It’s imperative you leave room for pie.
