Dining with Out-Laws
I’m finally turning this blog into what it was originally intended for. A blog about dining out. Not with your typical family or friends- but with a special group and a mix of the unwelcomed. The critics, the foes- the ruiners for some. For others- their words are captioned for decades long after restaurants receive their initial four stars with reviews immortalized, lamented, framed- then plastered all over the world wide web. It’s much easier to do the latter than the former. And no, I will never ever apologize for my reviews. I won’t take your money either. If you want to treat me to a free meal to write a review, invite me over to your house and we can talk over fluff while you make me dinner. But not in your restaurant. Although I welcome the offer for free meals via insta gift cards. I’m a bit of an Indian giver. A cheapie, and love re-gifting gift cards. So bring it on!
I was invited to visit Bao at 26 Greenwich Avenue a few months ago…I wanted to write about this place while it was still open- but felt bad, and would’ve been cursed if I’ld exposed the dump while Michael Bao was still here. Then Hurricane Sandy came along- and shut it down for good. Maybe it was intended to be that way. Who wants to have their last hoorah and leave the land of opportunity with their tails between their legs? The food was usually good, as always- the chef seemed to deliver. But the lack of decor- or shall I say: the recycled decor left over from the previous joint, along with French signage outdoors, floor cleaning products staring at our table kinda rubbed me the wrong way.
This dessert was pretty spectacular. The green custard above rubbed me the right way for some reason. The consistency of the chewy fresh ginko, married with the caramel sauce added a nice touch. It wasn’t too heavy nor sweet. It was just right. We didn’t care so much for the lettuce wraps with fried chicken- there was nearly not enough lettuce and the service wasn’t that great.
The most entertaining part of this meal- was perhaps the stripper look a like flashing her red brassiere under the sheer white blouse with fire red painted lips sashaying her way up and down the cramped space- that was indeed the highlight of the night. Now that’s all I remember from our meal together. Those two girls seemed to know the chef quite well- well enough to help themselves straight out of the rice cooker, practically licking the sauce off his lips in the open view kitchen, with the cleaning supplies staring at both our table and the kitchen staff. I hope he did it to get a rise out of us, and wasn’t being delusional about reality. But if I were in his shoes- I may have done the same. It’s hard to imagine spending a wonderful evening joined by some of the best art dealers from Beijing with designer friends and models at the former Bao joint- only two years earlier. A somber farewell to see a chef brought down like this. I might have seen the chef tremble for a second when Gael Greene yelled at him right before we left: “Who do these girls think they are- walking right into your kitchen and helping themselves to rice- do they work here?”…(and no they didn’t work there). Seriously- who were those girls?
Whoever they were- at least I’ll never see them again, unless Michael Bao moves back to NY from Vietnam and invites all of us for another opening in the distant future. Well, the show must move on, and Spring will soon be near, along will rise new restaurants, with new menus, new chefs, followed by more reviews. Take good care Chef Michael Bao. New York will miss your serial restaurant openings/closings.
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