Foodie Torture?

When a Foodie dreams of nirvana, that dream is set in New York City.  Every type of cuisine is available there, sometimes better than the original version.  Italian, French, Afghan, Szechuan, New American, Old American, Raw Food, Jewish, Indian, both Southern and Northern, etc, etc, etc.

So what happens when a Foodie goes to New York, but has to ignore the cup cake shops on every corner, the baskets of croissants left casually under her nose at breakfast, the platters of artisanal cheeses offered at dessert or the pistachio gelato gleaming green in the window of the shop she was waiting in front of?  What happens, what happens?  Salads, tuna tartar and omelets happen.  And thanks to the diversity that is New York, even eating the same foods multiple times  never feels, or tastes repetitive.

The fabulous meals at the Modern and Atlantic grill were mirror images of each other in name only.  Their own renditions were so different from each other that I felt as if my diet was as varied as the clothes on an Upper East Side socialite and a meat packing district drag queen.

The best find was the salad bar in Macy’s flagship store basement.  There amongst the fresh made manicotti and the hot pastrami sandwiches was a huge bowl of peppery arugula.  Thank god, a Foodie was so satisfied.