Apples, Oysters and a Train Station

Lunchtime. Hunger. New York City. What are there, like a thousand places to eat?  Actually, there’s probably more, especially if you count all the street meat that’s around; carts, trucks, kiosks, people selling tamales out of their granny carts, sidewalk food sold by squatting women in Chinatown - and on and on.

Now compound that hunger problem with finding yourself in one of those places in New York City that sees a million people a day; people scurrying through its grand spaces, not there to eat but on their way from somewhere or to somewhere, generally in a hurry.  And it happened to me last week (though I wasn’t in a hurry), when I ended up here, to visit that store at the top of the stairs…

Normally, giant railroad terminals aren’t thought of as great places to eat (well, maybe in Italy, where you can often find a decent panini and a perfect espresso); they’re usually where you can grab a crappy sandwich or half-cooked hot dog, on your way, as I said, to or from somewhere. Grand Central actually has a food court in its lower level, which certainly does a booming business at lunch. But look a little further underground and you’ll stumble across this…

Its official name is Grand Central Oyster Bar & Restaurant,  and it has  been sitting in the lower level of Grand Central Terminal for practically 100 years, falling into decline in the late 60s to early 70’s then rescued, renovated and now once again feeding hundreds of seafood happy customers on a daily basis. Don’t forget to check out the Gustavino tiled ceiling in this landmarked building…

I like to grab a seat at the counter, because that way you get fed fast and you get to watch the show…

Remember, this ain’t Le Bernardin folks. So start off with a bowl of clam chowder (I like Manhattan-style)…

Chock full of briny clams (get there early), slightly spicy and with a handful of those oyster crackers crushed into it, it hit the spot. Then I moved onto the real reason I was here…

Perhaps the finest oyster po-boy you can find in the city, simply loaded with perfectly fried oysters, a little shredded lettuce and a swab of tartar sauce to top it all off. A squeeze of lemon brought it to perfection…under $10!

Even though I like the counter at lunch, the full menu is serious.  Plenty of daily/seasonal specials. And the oysters?  On any given day, the blackboard menu is likely to offer up at least 2 dozen varieties…

I don't get here for lunch as often as I should, but for food this good, in a beautiful and historically landmarked building, it's worth a trip.  And that goes for whether you're hopping on a train or not.

The Show Must Go On

The show must go on. Evidently, that’s an old show business phrase, even though with all my research (well, googling) I couldn’t find out who first said it. However, it appears that the real saying (well, per Wiki) was actually: The show must go on, otherwise we’ll have to give them their money back.

It’s also used as the title of any number of songs, books, movies…you name it.  So what does all this have to do with Tasty Travails, you ask? Good question.

You know, in the food business, the show must go on is just as important as in the show business. That is, if you’re in the restaurant biz or you’re a caterer, and you’ve got a wedding or a bar mitzvah or a fully booked house on Saturday night, you can’t cancel out on your customers at the last minute…you’ll never work again in this town, if you know what I mean.  But what happens if…

This past weekend, Significant Eater and I had invited the family to our apartment for a birthday brunch to celebrate her dad’s 80^th. It was scheduled for Saturday noon, because on Sunday, Sig Eater packs up and heads down to DC for work the following week.  Only thing is, I woke up on Saturday morning not feeling well; without going into the gory details, I could barely stand up for more than 5 minutes without getting woozy.

The show must go on.  I mean, I had planned a really nice menu, ordered a lovely birthday cake, was gonna make some dishes a la minute, etc. etc. And there was no way I was giving them their money back!

So, thinking quickly, (okay, barely thinking), I decided to call our niece and see if I could persuade her (and her lovely Sidekick) to come over early and help Sig Eater (who wore an apron!) set up and keep this party going. Fortunately, they’re food peeps (after all, they live in Brooklyn AND have tattoos), she writes a great blog called Chronicles of a Stomach Grumble, and best of all, they agreed, which meant Significant Eater did not have to take all of her remaining xanax…only the normal amount for when she’s spending family time.

Fortunately, I had done all of the shopping ahead of time, including at this place…

As anyone can tell you, the nova and the lox (and the sturgeon) are delicious…

As is the herring…

Neither the frittata nor the potato pancakes topped with crème fraîche and caviar made it onto the table (the mispucha offered to make them, but wanting them to enjoy the party, the offer was turned down), but I had made a nice health salad (well, Jewish cole slaw), whipped up my own veggie/horseradish and scallion/chive cream cheeses, and baked rugelach and oatmeal cookies to go along with the cake.

They set up a beautiful table…

Mimosas and Stumptown coffee were served.  I was able to pop out for a minute to take a picture of the cake and sing Happy Birthday.  And thanks to Sig Eater, Chronicles, and Sidekick, everyone had a lovely time.  Happy 80^th Birthday, Norm…and many more...