I've taken my artsy-fartsy act to New York's Chelsea neighborhood, where I'm crashing at my friends' photo studio/loft while they're jetsetting in South America. It's awesome.
Done with being all dolled up and demure for my sister's wedding, I got a manicure. My color: MAC's Nightfall, which is dark gray with a touch of blue glitter.
I trekked down to SoHo to check out some boutiques, including Kiki de Montparnasse, a high-end lingerie store that tries to be the boudoir to Agent Provocateur's burlesque stage, and Space Mercer, where a skinny gray belt by Martin Margiela caught my eye with its blend of Old World leather craftmanship and techno steel ring. I passed the Chanel boutique that had the quirkiest window display. It was another example of the Old World meeting the Modern Age. In this case, the Parisian lady was reincarnated as a robot toy.
Back at the Chelsea loft, I had to be careful not to stand too long in front of the 9-foot-high window lest the livery drivers, who were waiting for their rich passengers to finish shopping in the multiple galleries on the block, think I was an installation piece.
The great thing about my street is that passersby don't even need to set foot inside a gallery to view some art. This videobox was installed outside of Whitebox Gallery, inside the brick wall facing the sidewalk.
My favorite cousin in the whole wide world, Peony, who now lives in Brooklyn, N.Y., came over for a snack. Unfamiliar with the grocery options in the neighborhood, I picked up some Stella Artois beer, Cheetos and baked potato chips at a nearby deli. After asking for my ID, the shop owner looked at me and said with amusement, "Oh, California girl."
After our Old World meets White trash snack, Peony and I headed to EN Japanese Brasserie for dinner with her boy. Earlier I dropped my cell phone and rendered it useful only as a paper weight, so I inculcated Peony in the ways of ghetto photojournalism by art directing while she snapped pictures on her cell phone for The Food and Music Club.
The yuba sashimi glistened. Peony thought it was sexy.
The shochu made of sugarcane was smooth going down our throats. I like shochu even though it is sometimes dismissed as the poor man's sake. EN attempts to elevate the stature of the low-grade distilled booze, offering shochu made of barley, sweet potato and sugarcane and even mixing it with green tea.
The grilled duck breast topped with shaved daikon was a house specialty.
The braised pork belly took Peony back to her childhood because it looked and tasted like our grandmom's specialty of caramelized pork with whole hard-boiled eggs. The big difference was that our grandmom's version is better because she fries the hard-boiled eggs for a slightly crispy texture. Peony reminded me that when she was little her Vietnamese nickname was "Baby Caramelized Pork" because she ate so much of it.
The coup de grace was EN's seared foie gras served atop a fat round of daikon. I think I'm going to hold the first East Coast eating meeting of The Foie Faction here.
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