Replacing A Memory

Awaiting my train
to NYC last week

I last visited New York City in 1996.  It was not a pleasant experience. I vowed never to go back.

I wrote my annual Christmas letter on
the train to New York City

Having onion and cheese with my
beer at McSorley's Ale House

As the years passed, I listened to good friends wax poetic about their wonderful trips to New York City and all the remarkable sensations the mythical destination has to offer.  As a Maryland resident since 2001, my stance softened and I began to long for an opportunity to replace my horrid memory with a brand new experience.   

A few weeks ago, when my former husband and frequent companion, Jesse Turner, offered to show me around New York City at Christmastime, I jumped at the chance. Jesse knows the city well and has visited many times for both business and pleasure. We wouldn’t be foundering around like lost souls this time.

The lobby of the Paramount was
sumptuous, like the set of a
Hollywood movie

I'm no stranger to highrises,
but the sheer scale of the
city was breathtaking

On the Friday before Christmas we boarded a train from Baltimore to Penn Station in New York.  Along the way I typed out what would eventually be my Christmas letter to friends and family, an annual missive which goes out to 343 recipients in 24 states and six foreign countries.  It was cold in New York, but not the icy temperatures of my previous trip.  With roll-along suitcases trailing behind us, Jesse and I walked the short distance to the Paramount, a small but well-appointed boutique hotel in the heart of the Theater district. Newly renovated to play up it’s art deco charms, the Paramount's lobby dazzled with wide, tufted-leather settees and a ten-foot long fireplace.

These Salvation Army workers were
very  entertaining

This woman played a saw!

We quickly stowed our luggage and set out to explore the city.  A short subway trip to the lower east side took us to McSorley’s Pub, established in 1854, which boasts the distinction of being New York City’s oldest continuously operated saloon.  A request for one small beer brought two mugs full to the table, along with crackers, chunks of white cheddar, spicy mustard and slices of pungent onion, a McSorley’s tradition. 

The subway sported live entertainment on every level of every station, from full-on bands with amplifiers and speakers to single musicians playing an assortment of interesting instruments, including one woman who played Christmas carols on a four-foot long hand saw.  Two Salvation Army volunteers worked a crowd in front of Madison Square Gardens by busting dance moves to tunes blasting from a boom box.  People couldn’t help but fill their bucket with cash and coins, and I did likewise.

Our table at Shalel was in a
tiny, cave-like room beside
an underground waterfall

You can see rose petals in the
small pool of water at the base
of the waterfall at my feet

After exploring the restaurant options on 46th street, checking out the rickety wooden escalator still in operation at the original Macy’s department store on 34th street, and experiencing sensory overload from a dizzying array of gigantic screens casting high-definition images across Times Square, we headed back to the Paramount to ask the concierge where we might find an exotic dining experience for that evening.  Paul Kravitz was amazing. After printing out menus for no less than five delicious and unusual-sounding restaurants he personally recommended, the head concierge decided that the perfect venue for us was a subterranean restaurant serving Moroccan food at 70th and Columbus.  There was no sign on the building, he said.  They did not advertise.  There would be no way to make a reservation without going there in person.  We would know we were at the right place when we came to a wrought-iron staircase dotted with rose petals descending into a narrow, shadowy entrance beneath the street.  

Described as having a maze of small dining rooms lit only by candlelight, with barely one table or two in each cavern-like space, Shalel did not disappoint.  The word means “underground waterfall” in Arabic.  Since the restaurant was on his route, our wonderful concierge offered to stop there on his way home and make dinner reservations for us.  Upon our arrival at 8:00 p.m. we were warmly welcomed, then led through the labyrinth to the best seats in the house, a tiny table for two in a private room beside an actual underground waterfall.  Colorful rose petals littered a small pool of water at the bottom of the rivulets. The tinkling of water as it traversed its narrow banks created a melodic backdrop to the unabashedly romantic setting.  And the food!  Owned by a Greek family since the early 1970s, Shalel specializes in small plates and good wine.  Our lovely waitress, Irene, the 20-something daughter of the owners, was only too happy to bring us taste after exquisite taste of her family’s glorious food.  We felt as if we had been let in on a wonderful secret.  Our meal was memorable; the atmosphere downright magical.  And the weekend was only beginning!

The Cartier building was
wrapped in a red bow 

The Bulgari store sported a crystal
serpent

We spent the next day walking the length of 5th Avenue from 34th Street to 61st, gazing at department-store windows imaginatively decorated in holiday finery, each establishment seemingly trying to outdo the next.  Whole buildings were wrapped in decorative displays of lights and greens and colored baubles.  A number of them included interactive displays. At Lord & Taylor, for instance, we could press a button on a display window and have our picture taken and texted to our iPhones.  At Macy’s we could wave our arms and change the color and direction of an aurora borealis streaking across the display window “sky”.  And a window at Barney’s, the London purveyor of luxury designer handbags, shoes and clothing, featured a three-minute light-show past which a steady flow of people streamed.

Even Santa got in on the ice-skating
action at Rockefeller Center

A view of the city from our horse-drawn
carriage in Central Park.  You can
still see some snow on the sidewalk 

We watched as skaters glided across the ice beneath a gigantic tree at Rockefeller Center.  We munched on roasted chestnuts from a sidewalk vendor and treated ourselves to a horse-drawn carriage ride through Central Park.  We walked the length of Madison Avenue back to our hotel as daylight waned, changed for dinner and then walked across Times Square to Aureole, our highly-recommended destination for dinner Saturday night.  As we were led to our table, I marveled at the 20,000 bottle "wine tower" which dominated the main dining room.  Our three-course, price-fixe meal at this famous Charlie Palmer establishment was extraordinarily wonderful, made even better by several unexpected amuse-gueules and a small packet of cocoa-covered macadamia nuts and almonds gaily wrapped as a surprise parting gift for me at the end of the evening.  A 2:00 p.m. train the following afternoon delivered us safely back to Baltimore without a hitch, bringing to a quiet close a memorable pre-Christmas holiday.

Dinner at Aureole on my last evening
in New York City was absolutely
amazing

Cheers,

Lynell
"The riverbed, dried up, half-full of leaves.  Us, listening to a river in the trees." 
~ Seamus Heaney 1939-2013  (This tiny poem was printed on my subway ticket!)