Tonight is your big Top Chef Reunion show. (I am going to call it "your" like they do on local news... "YOUR forecast"... "YOUR reunion show".) All the chefs and judges are there answering YOUR questions, with never before seen moments from the series - plus we award ten grand to YOUR Fan Favorite. Plus Howie cries. Plus I am the host. Plus Padma looks hot. Plus hilarity ensues. Plus it's YOURS.
Last night, there was a bit 'o hilarity and plenty 'o pathos at the Atlantic Theater, where I caught my pal Kristen Johnston turn out a fierce performance in the searing play "Scarcity". Oh my. It's about a family with no money, class, boundaries, or hope. They're at the end of their ropes. It's funny and sad and deep and the cast is great. The New Yorker did a big piece about how great it is a couple weeks ago. It has a few more weeks in it's run.
After the play we went in the pouring rain for sushi on 7th Avenue at 21st Street to the place that used to be Meriken for years and years. Now it's new, better, clean, and fantastic. They're generous with their seaweed salad, unlike other neighboring restaurants. (Are YOU listening, Miyagi?)
OK I vowed not to start a sushiwar on this blog. And I won't. This morning is misty and drizzly (Mizzly?). And what better to go deeper than deep with on a mizzly day than Pink Floyd?
Maybe the Carpenters, but I was blasting "Shine on You Crazy Diamond" on Horatio Street this morning, and it did me good. Now I am at work and I have a shitload of work to do. Yes, a shitload. But I am looking forward to lunch at the Palm with Sir Tim Gunn.
What better break from a mizzly day? Don't forget YOUR reunion show!