Home is Where the Hearth Is
One of my favorite things about New York City is the diversity of food available. There are more than 20 million people in the greater New York area, and a lot of them were born in other countries. There are restaurants representing just about every country on earth in NYC, and often restaurants that focus on specific regions. There are probably more restaurants serving the cuisine of Guangdong in NYC than Chinese restaurants of any kind in New Orleans.
If you know me, you know I’m a proponent of New Orleans food and restaurants. For every great place in New York serving northern Thai food, there are a dozen that aren’t worth visiting. We have our share of bad restaurants too, but I believe that overall, we’re one of the best cities for dining in the country.
I was in New York briefly this week. One of my clients hosted a meeting in midtown Manhattan, and I was asked to speak. I was there for one night, and that night we had a dinner arranged.
I’d planned on eating lightly at that dinner, then going out afterwards to find something I can’t find here. But the dinner, at a place called Carmine’s, turned out to be pretty damn good, as was the company, and I ate a lot. By the time I got back to my hotel, I was in no mood to eat anything else. The conference continued the next day, and when it was over, I had no time to do anything but catch a cab to the airport. Alas.
When I got home this evening around 9:00 p.m., I microwaved some frozen shumai dumplings I’d bought at Hong Kong Market. They were ok. But my daughters had drawn me welcome home pictures, and my wife kissed me and I am probably sacrificing my foodie credentials, but I’m so glad to be home.
New York is big and vibrant and crowded and fun. There are a lot of very interesting people walking around, and I would love to be fabulously wealthy and have a pied a terre to visit once very month or two, just to eat. I will look forward to returning to the city when I have more time to graze through all of the food-options, but tomorrow I’m looking forward to a fried oyster po-boy, dressed, with extra pickles.
And that’s something you can’t get in New York, or Chicago, or L.A., or anywhere else but here.