First of all, let me just say Happy Friday! I won’t break into Rebecca Black — but she is bouncing around my head, it’s true (damn her). On to more important things.
Brunch. Boozy brunch, Sunday Funday brunch, brunkybrunk brunch — it’s all fantastic and, as you know, it takes only the slightest excuse for a New Yorker to partake in bottomless mimosas from 11am to 4pm. Even better when you get to celebrate a particular person’s presence in your world, like last Sunday. If you remember, Saturday was MF’s birthday party at Prohibition, a fabulous event from which I did not return home to my bed until the birds were chirping. I slept deeply for about 5 hours, and then hopped up out of my cozy bed, into the shower, and subsequently on the train toward Trestle on Tenth in Chelsea for Berg’s birthday brunch.
Grumble, grumble, tenth avenue, grumble, I thought as I made my way slowly to the subway. Should have brought my swim trunks — we’re practically in the Hudson River. But it turned out to be a really cute, chic little place! Not that I doubted Berg’s taste, but it was much better than I expected. Exposed brick (par for the course in New York), an un-used fireplace, a sleek bar, blonde open-face cabinets with wine and wine glasses. This is definitely my kind of place.
The drink of choice was a signature mimosa called Shades of Red, made with blood orange juice, grand marnier, and triple sec (I think). Aptly named, this beverage, because each time a fresh one came out it was a completely different shade. More orange, than red, they got progressively redder as the afternoon went on. Trestle, unfortunately, doesn’t have an unlimited mimosa special so you wind up paying for each shade of red. This worked in my favor, though, as I needed to A) save a little $$, and 2) give my liver a rest after the night prior. I only have one extra liver in my freezer — and I’m saving that for summer.
As for the food, well, it was fantastic. Being out so late the night before, my appetite wasn’t what it should have been, but my lemon-ginger scone had an amazing balance of the two flavors. Brunch Critic, upon discovering my check-in post to twitter, suggested the Duck Confit Hash — which the birthday boy ordered and was significantly satisfied with. I mean, a plate swimming with home fries, bits of pulled duck, a blend of herbs and a couple eggs on top? What’s not to love? I didn’t taste it, but it certainly looks delicious, doesn’t it?
Post-brunch wandering (ever the staple activity) was planned at some point, for the Highline Park, just outside Trestle. Unfortunately, I missed out on this lovely lazy Sunday afternoon activity — as a personal assistant I’m pretty much on call 24/7, and my office was calling with files to be filed, reservations to be made, and travel to be booked (boss actually flew to Jamaica, for a week, this morning). I gave the bday boy and some of the new friends I’d met at brunch (this is why I love bday parties — there’s always someone new) the New York bisous and schlepped off to my office 10 blocks up.
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