House Specialty

... and you don't get what you don't pay for. We don't take reservations for brunch. Most places don't for that matter and certainly none of the restaurants in our neighborhood do. It's like an unwritten code. Why don't we take reservations for brunch, you ask? None of your fucking business, I respond. But I will tell you anyway. Based on the observed habits of those walking in for brunch: ...

(this was originally published on the site several years ago but it's still relevant today)

The plight of the waiter has been getting a lot of press lately. From Frank Bruni’s insightful piece in the New York Times to CNN’s survery of server-run websites, the general public is getting more of an insight into the life of a waiter than they probably ever imagined. Or wanted. I mean, if you have to think of us as people, it’s hard to stiff us, right? Here’s a trick - ask a diner for their business card before you end the meal. Watch your tip go up.

So the public knows we work long hours, they know we depend on tips and they know that most of us are trying to do something else. Although I believe that last part is a crock of shit. Maybe we want to do something else, but trying it is entirely different. Many of us are complicit in the stagnation of our dreams. Or we re-write the scripts of our lives to accomodate the circumstances in which we have placed ourselves. That’s a topic for another day.
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Domestic tourists to New York often associate the city with Times Square. To them the noise, lights, congestion, and annual dropping of a pricy disco ball give credence to their media-conspired vision of the city. For their convenience, an Olive Garden has been added. It generally has a two-hour wait for a table.

To the foreign visitor, SoHo may best represent the city. Once the habitat of aspiring artists and despairing dot-commers, this increasingly congested pedestrian mall teems with high-end shops, all of which are readily found in the tourists’ native cities. A few blocks to the east, the small, bespoke and custom shops of local designers struggle to survive.

But to the local resident, the quintessential New York neighborhood is arguably the Upper West Side. Here, where the Avenues have shed their numbers, one finds a sort of Bermuda triangle conceptually anchored by Lincoln Center, Zabar’s and the Dakota Apartments – with a Filene’s Basement thrown in for good measure and for quality designer merchandise at discount prices.
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