The weekend’s laughing at clouds.
Your Perks... 1) An exclusive VIP ticket to a massive celebration of bacon. 2) A pass that lets you skip the line at Shakespeare in the Park. 3) 45% off a decadent feast for two in a Midtown steakhouse—hey, just in time for Father’s Day...
You’ve made some dubious excuses to go to Parm. And no one was buying that your podiatrist prescribed two sausage-and-peppers and a chicken parm sandwich per day. But none of that’s necessary anymore, because now they deliver—anywhere in the city, if the order’s big enough. Challenge accepted.
Ultra-thick burgers, Scotch eggs named after Scottish writers and a rum pot de crème named after Hemingway (who was... not Scottish). You’re probably in already, but we’ll toss in the fact that it’s all from an A Voce and Lupa vet. And now we’ll leave you to it.
On the vital question of getting ridiculously handsome clothing and gratis drinks, you’re solidly in the “yes” column. Related: you should head to H.W. Carter & Sons tomorrow and procure some whiskey and warm-weather wearables from Engineered Garments and Comme des Garçons. Do it for the cause.
Your dad never met a burger he didn’t like. And he’ll probably like the Lion’s version—caramelized onions, pork belly and two kinds of cheese—a little extra. He probably won’t complain when they throw in a pint, either. (And if Dad can’t make it, just bring some old guy.)
Sundays are for backyards. That’s why they exist. Graffitied backyards filled with lobster rolls and burgers and cocktails you saw in a dream. At least, that’s what Mulberry Project is doing Sundays this summer, with a weekly rotating barbecue menu. Good on them.
