lifedoodling sketching between the lines of life

Turning A Rainy Day Into a Thing of Beauty

Last week I had the oppor­tu­nity to visit the New York City/New Jer­sey Area for work rela­ted acti­vi­ties. It was during my stay in this fine area of the country that the weather went from sunny and 70 to sleet, snow, ice, and cold — 32 degrees.

Nor­mally under such an unlucky turn of events you might be a little pes­si­mis­tic about the out­look of this kind of weather, being far from home. I was not of this mind­set. I saw an oppor­tu­nity, howe­ver twis­ted, that only comes along once in a great great while — an exten­ded stay in one of the great cities of the world by myself over St. Patrick’s day weekend.

Why was this such a great oppor­tu­nity? Because I am undaun­ted by rain, snow, ice, free­zing tem­pe­ra­tu­res or any other pos­si­ble obs­tacle when it comes to the pos­si­bi­lity of enjo­ying great food! Just the night before my co-workers were telling me about this great clas­sic steak house called Peter Luger’s in Brooklyn. Intri­gued, I had called but there were no open reser­va­tions for at least 2 weeks. Now sud­denly I had the chance to cash in on native New Yorker’s dis­taste for such foul weather.

My adven­ture star­ted out by taking advice from a non-New York citi­zen on how to get to Brooklyn. He put me on a train that took me into the heart of Brooklyn but many many blocks away from my inten­ded res­tau­rant. After rea­li­zing I was way off the bea­ten path I got off the sub­way and star­ted my way back up to the other end. But not without wal­king in almost 8 blocks in the ons­laught of bad weather first. Sur­pri­singly enough taxi and limo ser­vi­ces were not run­ning either.

I made my way back into the bowls of Brooklyn’s sub­way and then pro­cee­ded to chart my slow path back to Peter Luger’s. After 4 trans­fers I was within 9 blocks of this mecca of meat and though the weather had taken a turn for the worse I was not dete­rred in my drive to eat.

As a side note, when I arri­ved in the grea­ter Tris­tate area it was mode­ra­tely warm and I had only brought a golf pull over and mostly warm weather clothes. That day at lunch after lear­ning my stay was going to be exten­ded I went to the adjoi­ning mall and purcha­sed hiking boots and a change of clothes. So at this point, though the rest of me was soa­ked my feet were warm and dry.

I trud­ged through 4 inches of ice, snow and sludge. Pel­ting sleet in the face. At seve­ral points I was uncer­tain whether there was any hope of me reaching this dream of good food and a warm drink. Finally I saw a sign. Lite­rally it was a sign that said “Peter Luger’s Parking”.

I knew I was close. My pace quic­ke­ned. I saw the entrance. Oh No. There were peo­ple lined up by the win­dows! Would my trip have been in vain? Was my expec­ta­tion of the native’s dis­like for bad weather mis­pla­ced? Alas I redou­bled my resolve and cros­sed the threshold to the desk where the owner’s wife was waiting.

In my best puppy dog eyes and piti­ful, yet hope­ful voice I could mus­ter I beg­ged to be put on the list for the food. The Maitre’d came over and the two of them took pity on my state and assu­red me that within the hour I would be enjo­ying a por­terhouse steak aged to ripe­ness, broi­led to per­fec­tion, and ser­ved right on time. My heart leapt at this news. My dreams would be rea­li­zed! I wan­ted to cry at the top of my lungs! I WOULD EAT STEAK TONIGHT!

The thought alone war­med me and my now fro­zen cap of hair but to ensure I was pro­perly tha­wed I hea­ded to the bar to order nothing less than my 12 year oldGlen­li­vet and await my turn. As luck would have it while I was wai­ting 2 gent­le­men wal­ked in and got in line behind me. Without a second thought I struck up a con­ver­sa­tion with them and within minu­tes you would think we had known each other for years.

By the time they called my name I had switched to joi­ning the two gent­le­men and we sat down together to enjoy the steak for 3. Now this res­tau­rant is known for many things but one of them is not cour­teous ser­ving staff. If there was any hesi­ta­tion at all you would go to the bot­tom of the route for get­ting your order in. As Michael and John(?) were old pros at eating there they knew exactly what to get the first time they came around. We got the toma­toes and onions for an appe­ti­zer, Crea­med Spi­nach, and home fries/hash browns with of course a Medium Rare Steak for Three Porterhouse.

They bring this steak sauce (why they call it steak sauce I don’t know. It should be ille­gal throughout the world to add sauce to a steak like that.) that we added to the toma­toes and onions. Ama­zing. Then the Crea­med Spi­nach came to the table. HOLY FREAKING COW! That was truly the BEST crea­med spi­nach I have ever eaten. Hence the capi­tals for the dish. The home fries were good but the main piece was still to come.

The steak arri­ved and they set it up so the jui­ces flo­wed to the end of the plate. That’s impor­tant because that was the true steak sauce. Not the other stuff. The juice of the steak that you spoo­ned onto the suc­cu­lent pie­ces of pre-cut meat from a glo­rious, almost devine cut of Por­terhouse steak that had been broi­led in an 1800 degree oven long enoug to pin­kify the cen­ter and slightly blac­ken the outside. It comes pre-cut so you just take a few pie­ces as you can. It’s so good that some of the cuts could be done with your spoon, because they don’t give you a knife for it.

My new found friends were slowly eating. They had not accoun­ted for the eating speed or capa­city of The Chi­ne­se­bob. I easily enjo­yed 30 of the 50oz steak in front of us. Not to men­tion most of the Crea­med Spi­nach. At the end I insis­ted on pic­king up half the check as with them I ate more and paid less than if I had been by myself so it was only fair. And they were extre­mely gra­cious in drop­ping me off at the sub­way sta­tion that would take me back to New Jersey.

As I rode the train back to my hotel I could only think. I have done something I only drea­med about doing. I took what should have been a terri­ble wee­kend and ins­tead tur­ned it into one of those rare life moments where you fight through oppo­si­tion to finish. I slept so well that night. Little did I know that the rest of the wee­kend would be more of these ama­zing adventures.