The Return of Crunchy Flake

*blows dust off*

Why, hello. I did not intend to abandon you precipitously, but I began a new job, and was immediately forced to forgot there was anything else in my life. My air tank ran out a few days ago, though, and while I surfaced to exchange it for a new one, I thought I’d drop by.

Sushi, last night, again at our current favourite, Sushiya, on 56th St., which lately has had incredibly fresh fish. Saba (mackerel). Sawara (Spanish mackerel). Unagi (fresh water eel). Anago (sea eel). Hamachi (yellowtail). Ikura (salmon roe) with quail egg. Uni (sea urchin roe). The hamachi was rich and buttery. The anago had a mysterious, lightly smoky smoothness, less assertive than the unagi. The uni was ethereal sea custard. We drank smooth sake as accompaniment, and finished with a bowl of miso soup. At the end of the meal, Jim looked at me with a glint in his eye. "Let's go to the Rainbow Room for dessert and a drink," he said. We looked at each other. Back and forth. "Ok," he said. "If the check is less than $67.50 before tax, let's go." "Ok, you're on," I said. Wouldn't you know, the check was $67 flat before tax. Random guess, because we ordered most of it without looking at the menu.

So we walked down to Rock Center in the chill air. Walked into that marvelous Art Deco building. "May I help you?" the elevator attendant said. "For drinks," I said. Up the elevator whisked us, to the 65th floor. We were in luck, as a table with a front and center view of the Empire State Building opened up as we arrived. We settled in, and got two glasses of port and a slice of chocolate cake to share. Of course, each glass was nearly the cost of the bottle at a wine store, but we sipped it as we sat back and drank in the sparkling lights shimmering in the heat that rises from the heart of New York even on the coldest night.

When we left, we wandered through the lobby with its oversized, rough-hewn men, sketched in with the desperation and hope of the 1930s. We stood on the brass plate covering the hole for the Christmas tree, and leaned over and watched the few hardy souls skating round and round under the bright lights to tinny Journey. And then we walked, up Fifth Avenue, past the glittering stores full of Western wealth, the Weather Channel truck filming the cold night, past the churches with shivering souls huddled on the steps as their freezing streams of urine trickled and slowed across the sidewalks to the gutter.