Neither one of us wants to be the first to say it’s the weekend.
Hope you’re hungry for Perks: we’ve got a six-course, wine-paired dinner at the James Beard House; two hours of bottomless drinks at the Churchill for 30 bucks; and a perfect French-minded date of hors d’oeuvres and cocktails at Cantine Parisienne. We assume you saved room for cocktails.
Iceberg right ahead. That’s a thing you’re totally going to be able to say at this PS1 exhibit. Which is basically a big room full of 800-year-old glaciers for you to get cool by and marvel at. Get it, because it’s summer.
Normally, if we told you about a place with massive sculptures of bunk beds chained together and suspended from the ceiling by a California artist, you’d say, “Weird.” But when we say you’re eating roasted lamb leg and lobster pasta there, you say, “Show me.” So that’s what we’re doing.
There’s a time and a place for stunning unstructured blazers and M65 jackets the likes of which haven’t been this handsome since the ’60s. That time/place: the Ovadia & Sons sample sale in SoHo. And as it happens, the first-ever of those is happening today and Sunday. It’s fate.
It’s official. There’s not a thing on this planet that Questlove doesn’t have his hand in. Because now he’s got a takeout chicken shack at Chelsea Market. You’ve got buckets of his fowl, a cupcake called Miso Ho-ney and a watermelon-jalapeño slushy. He should try music sometime.
In Little Italy, there’s a pizza speakeasy. That’s old news by now. But what’s new: they’ve got a hangover pizza. It’s got soppressata, buffalo mozzarella, red onions, egg and mushrooms on it. And if you combine it with their Bloody Mary, poof. No more hangover.
