vip in the city

A tale of two NoLItas

On the way to dinner this evening, I passed through the largest and most famous of the New York City street festivals: the Feast of San Gennaro. For eleven days in September, this sprawling, chaotic celebration — now in its 80th year — takes over Mulberry Street from Chinatown/Little Italy to SoHo.

Just two blocks east of the festival was an entirely different scene, as even the permeating scent of sausage grease seemed to fade from the air.

MB made our reservations for dinner at — where else? — our favorite temple of Australasian cuisine, Public. She and LW were already waiting at the bar when I arrived, and within minutes, our party was shown to a table on the open patio/loading dock. As these autumn days grow shorter and cooler, we won’t have many more opportunities to dine al fresco this year.

My pan-seared Tasmania sea trout was served on a tangy and refreshing bed of fennel, green apple and pistachio, to which MB contributed a robust, screw-capped red from her wine mailbox. Later, a quick perusal of the dessert menu and our choice was clear: the Hokey-Pokey, for which MB may be single-handedly responsible for bringing back to the restaurant’s offerings. Not the dance, mind you, but the ice cream from New Zealand (where, incidentally, that same dance is known as the “Hokey Cokey.“) Here at Public, the ice cream (a malted vanilla laden with crunchy bits of caramel toffee) is served with mango sauce and a ginger snap. Delicious.

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